He grinned. “Fascinating.”
“Rumor has it that the zebra-giraffe creature has been seen on the grass plains of central Africa. I saw a drawing of it in one of the books in your grandfather’s library, an ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic text depicting that very animal. I wish I could go to Africa one day to see all these odd forms of life in their natural surroundings. Don’t you?”
He paused a long moment, eyeing her warily and with great doubt. “Eloise warned me about you.”
“She did not. She adores me. She thinks I’m the cleverest girl she’s ever met.”
He arched an eyebrow and then shook his head and grinned again. “I suppose you are. But let’s concentrate on horses for the moment, just the breeds on display here today, and no more talk of zebras, giraffes, or other oddities.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to speak. “And no lectures on the baboon colonies of Madagascar either.”
She snapped her mouth shut. Tried not to respond. Counted to three, then spoke. “The baboons have established colonies in continental Africa. The lemur colonies populate Madagascar and have thrived on that island since the great rift that split it off from Africa. They’ve thrived because of the lack of natural enemies, but that’s changed recently as humans have settled in.”
He let out a laughing groan. “Lily, I think I’m going to miss you when I’m back in Scotland.”
Her heart sank into her toes. He’d only been here a week, and he was already itching to return home. He thought he might miss her once his time in London was over. She knew she would miss him terribly—not lightly or sometimes, but always. Of course, she could never tell him that. She’d already made a fool of herself by kissing him. Once. Briefly. He’d obviously put it out of his mind. She must have done an awful job of it.
She quietly followed her uncle, sister, and Ewan as they walked from stall to stall and browsed the pens inspecting prime stallions and gentle mares. Ewan pointed to an enormous, sinewed beast, a black giant that its owner called Hades, a brute that appeared capable of breathing fire out of its nostrils. Laurel stepped forward and ran her hands along the horse’s chest and withers. She inspected his teeth, felt along his forelegs, and inspected his hooves. Hades allowed her to touch him without so much as a whinny of protest. “You have a good eye, Ewan. He’s magnificent.”
He nodded and turned to Lily. “What do you think, lass?”
Her eyes rounded in alarm. “Why ask me? I only know what’s written in books. You’re the experts.”
“Still, I value your opinion.”
“You do?”
“Aye.” He shook his head and laughed. “Why no’? You seem to know about everything else.”
Not everything. She had no idea how to kiss a man and make him like it. She was a scholar, not a temptress.
“Well,” Uncle George said, eyeing her in that discerning way of his, somehow knowing what was on her mind, “we seem to be in agreement that Hades is for you. Let’s find a gentle mare for your sister.” He took Lily’s arm and strode ahead with her, leaving Laurel and Ewan behind to finalize their registration to bid on the magnificent specimen. “You’ve taken a liking to him, Lily.”
She knew her uncle was talking about Ewan, not Hades. “There’s nothing between us. You mustn’t pay attention to those silly rumors.”
“I never do. I hope you don’t either.” He gazed at her, his eyes filled with kindness and love, for he was quite protective of his nieces and not about to let anyone hurt her or her sisters. “He seems to be a decent fellow, but it’s obvious he won’t remain in London any longer than is necessary. He isn’t here to find himself a bride.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Just making certain you haven’t taken the whisperings of these bored gossips to heart. I don’t want you hoping for something more from the fellow. You have a way of looking at him, as though he makes the sun shine and stars glow brighter. I don’t see him looking at you the same way. Just be careful, Lily.”
She glanced back to watch Ewan and Laurel approach. They were smiling, both seeming at ease with each other, and engrossed in conversation. She overheard portions of their discussion as they approached and knew they were reviewing the quality of the horseflesh on display at the auction house. Her uncle joined in, and Lily felt a bit like a duck out of water, her knowledge gleaned only from books and not at all from life experience.
As the others walked ahead, she held back and strolled along a quieter pathway that housed the older, less desirable horses. She paused by one stall, drawn to it by the soft neighs of its occupant, a dappled gray mare. “Hello, girl. What’s your name? Mine’s Lily. You seem lonely.”