My Fair Lily(5)

“It isn’t a mere agreement,” Eloise reminded him. “You made a sacred promise to your father that the pair of you will reside with your grandfather these next three months. That your grandfather accepted the arrangement can only mean he bitterly regrets his actions toward your parents and seeks to make amends.”

Ewan doubted it. The old bastard’s agreement merely signified that he sought to control Ewan and his sister now that their father was out of the way to prevent it. However, Eloise meant well, and he was glad to call her a friend. Not wishing to overset her further, he allowed her to return their conversation to descriptions of those insipid society functions.

“Though your months here will be on the quieter side, it surely cannot hurt to attend an occasional soiree or musicale. There are several fine Scots families in town at the moment. Why, even my grandson is here with his wife. You remember Graelem, don’t you?”

He nodded. “A decent chap.”

“He’s married to Lily’s sister, Laurel.”

“Is she as… er, unusual as Lily?”

Eloise frowned. “There is nothing wrong with Lily. She’s a dear girl, and has been a good friend to me these past five years since they moved next door.”

“You mistake my meaning, Eloise. I meant to compliment the girl. She’s different, that’s all.” Ewan realized that the well-meaning old dowager was probably quite bored living alone in this grand home and eager for young company. He was glad that Lily often visited her. He hoped Meggie would make her as good a companion as that pretty bluestocking.

“I shall accept a few engagements on your behalf,” she continued, “but only those I think will best distract Meggie and allow for quiet amusement.”

“Very well.” His hatred for his grandfather had blinded him to the practical implications of their visit. How would he and Meggie endure all that time under the old man’s roof? Eloise’s suggestions had merit. “I’ll rely on you to guide my sister. Spare no cost to make her happy.”

“What of you?”

He laughed. “I’ll leave you ladies to the business of going about the shops. I’ll find other ways to pass the time.”

Eloise cast him another stern glance. “And abandon your sister? It is important for Meggie to have you close at hand. She can’t attend any of these social engagements alone.”

“She’ll have you.”

“As much as I adore her, I’m not family.”

Ewan scowled. “This isn’t some trick of yours to turn me into a proper English gentleman, is it?”

“Heavens, no. Even if I wished to, you’re far too stubborn for me to succeed. No, I quite like you as you are. You’re a handsome man, or rather, you will be pleasing to look at once you’ve properly cleaned up. At the moment, you look shaggier than Jasper.”

Ewan eased back, laughing softly. “Very well, but don’t you dare take your matchmaking aim at me. I will not have an English bride.”

Eloise’s butler walked in just then carrying a tray laden with cakes, a teapot, and the makings for a proper tea. Assuming the role of hostess with elegance and obvious ease, Eloise poured Ewan a cup of tea before resuming the conversation he preferred she would forget. “Well, you’re almost twenty-nine years old and have never been married.”

He dropped two cubes of sugar and a lemon slice into his cup. “Never found the right girl.”

She handed him a slice of plum cake. “What harm can there be in searching for one here? There are many young ladies who come down from Scotland at this time of year. Any one of them will make an excellent wife. And not all English girls are detestable. Take Lily, for example.”

“Her again.” Ewan let out another rumble of laughter. “She’s a pretty lass, but also very young. I do no’ rob from the cradle.”

“She’s almost nineteen.”

In truth, he’d noticed her womanly curves. How could any man miss the way she was put together? Slender waist, long neck… soft shoulders. Even softer lips. Nor could he overlook her nicely shaped breasts, not with Jasper’s paw prints clearly stamped atop them.

He shook out of his wayward thoughts. “She seems a very clever girl and a decent sort. I would have been ranting had someone—or someone’s dog,” he added, casting a scowl in Jasper’s direction, “dropped me into a puddle. But she did no’ get in the least ruffled and said it was no’ necessary to rectify the damage. I will, of course. So I’ll be needing the name of her dressmaker.”

“That would be the same as mine, Madame de Bressard. She runs the busiest fashion establishment in town.”