Eloise smiled. “Isn’t it delightful? Lotheil, I think we should plan on more fireworks for your birthday celebration. Everyone loves to see sparks flying.”
Ewan didn’t hear his grandfather’ reply, for Jasper was still jumping on Lily, his tongue all over her face and licking down her delectable body... something Ewan would have willingly braved the fires of eternal damnation to do... blast, the dog was lucky.
As for fireworks, he was as hot as any of those rockets. Hot and about to explode, though it wouldn’t be as pretty or delicate as those shimmering points of light. It would be hot and messy. “Miss Farthingale,” he said softly, Jasper still jumping and Jergens doing his best to drag the beast away, “you are a menace to this household.”
She smiled up at him, her hair a wild mess and her cheeks flushed pink as she wriggled against his body to shield herself from Jasper’s exuberance. “Thank you, Laird Carnach. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
CHAPTER 8
LILY WAS NOT SURPRISED when Ewan avoided her for the next few days, but he’d given her permission to join him, Laurel, and Uncle George at Tattersalls today—that permission bestowed despite Lady Withnall having seen them in what she’d called “a compromising position” and blabbed it about town with the efficiency of Napoleon’s army on the march—so Lily planned to be on her best behavior all day.
No controversy whatsoever.
She caught one look at Ewan’s frowning expression and realized he was still displeased about what had happened in front of Lady Withnall. Perhaps she ought to have begged out, but she had nothing to be ashamed of, and it seemed to her that hiding at home would only confirm to the London gossips that she did have reason to be ashamed. “It isn’t my fault that your dog jumps on me whenever he sees me.”
“Ye shouldn’t encourage the big looby.” His brogue was thick again, a sign of his vexation.
“Me? I didn’t... oh, what’s the use. You’re overset because everyone now believes we’re an item and the gossips have spread the news throughout London.”
“Throughout England,” he corrected, “and the outer reaches of the Antipodes.”
“You and I know it isn’t true.” She glanced up to smile at him, but the sun was in her eyes so she couldn’t see whether or not his expression had mellowed. Probably not. He wasn’t engaging her in conversation other than to blame her for his dog’s behavior.
The sun was a big, yellow ball in the sky, and the sky was one of those rare, cloudless blue skies to be savored while it lasted. Despite the sunshine, there was a distinct chill to the air having nothing to do with Ewan’s ill humor. A stiff breeze blew across the stalls and crowded footpaths of the auction grounds, carrying the scent of horses and horse manure along with the various perfumed scents presently favored by the gentlemen of fashion who sauntered along these paths looking for the perfect pair of matched bays to hitch to their sleek carriages and stylish phaetons.
Spiced cinnamon and an exotic fruity scent that someone had described as Chinese orange were the current rage among the younger gentlemen. The overpowering French perfumes were a favorite among the older men. Despite the years of war, those fragrances reliably managed to reach England’s shores.
Fortunately, the war was over and done for good now that Napoleon had been defeated at Waterloo. Lily’s sister Daisy, and Daisy’s brave and handsome husband Gabriel, had been involved in saving the day. Gabriel had been awarded an earldom for almost singlehandedly defeating Napoleon’s army. That Daisy had also played a role in the victory made Lily very proud.
Ewan nudged her along when she became distracted by her own thoughts. Ewan, of course, smelled of clean, rugged Highlands, a blend of clear mountain water and pine woods. He looked good, too. Whenever did he not? His clothes were simple but finely tailored, buff trousers, dark brown jacket, and a pine green cravat of finest silk that did not make him look at all like a dandy. He wore no cloak, obviously comfortable in the cold weather.
Lily wasn’t nearly as comfortable. Her ears and the tip of her nose were growing numb. “Did you know that horses were originally the size of dogs? And that they are closely related to zebras, though anyone looking at the zebras in the royal menagerie would have a hard time believing it. They’re both equines, but horses have long been domesticated while zebras remain wild and unpredictable. There’s also a creature known in ancient times to be part zebra and part giraffe.”
“What?”
“I’m not jesting. The animal is a mix of giraffe and zebra. I wonder how it happened. And why it happened. Perhaps a necessary adaptation to survive in the wild. That’s why I’m so keen on Ashton’s research on lemur populations in Madagascar. There are so many offshoots from the original lemur ancestor, it will make your head spin.”