She’d done it for him.
“Jasper,” he said, turning to the lumpy beast stretched out beside the hearth, “you have excellent taste in women.” He walked over and scratched him behind the ears. “But I can’t marry her. It isn’t only that she’s English. She’s very close to her family. How can I take her so far away from her parents and sisters? And she’s a delicate thing. She’d never adapt to the harsh Highlands weather.”
Jasper didn’t seem in the least impressed or convinced.
“And I’m not about to take her into my heart while some unknown enemy is out there trying to kill me. What if he goes after Lily again? I can’t let the lass get hurt.” Which was why he’d instructed Homer Barrow to hire another of his Bow Street colleagues to watch over Lily.
Still unimpressed.
“Bah, what do you know, anyway? You’re just a dog.” He rose and walked across the room to dress.
Jasper began to howl at Ewan. Wroolf, wrooiditoolf. His dog voice had the oddest inflection. Sounded as though Jasper was calling him an idiot. Perhaps he was, but he wasn’t about to let a damn dog tell him so. “Shut up, ye hairy looby.”
Wroolf, wrooiditoolf.
Jasper had called him an idiot again. “Enough, Jasper. I need you to behave. And if you’re so damned smart, then tell me why this enemy of mine went after Lily? Not Meggie or any other Cameron. Lily. Why her?”
***
The Italian singer finished his third song to loud applause, and although Lily was enjoying the evening, she wished Ewan were here to enjoy the Simmington’s affair with her. Meggie was having a wonderful time, no doubt because Lily’s young and dashing cousin, William Farthingale, was paying her particular attention.
Also, Meggie had walked in on her grandfather’s arm and been introduced as his granddaughter, and any relative of a duke was certain to dazzle at any society gathering. The crowd mistook Meggie’s panic as delightfully sweet shyness. That, along with her pretty features, enhanced her reputation as a newcomer of note.
Lily wasn’t certain what to make of the old duke. He was a puzzle to her. Though cold and arrogant, he’d permitted Ewan, Meggie, and Jasper into his home without complaint and he was now showing off Meggie to his friends as though they’d been a close family for years. He’d even permitted Lily to visit Meggie at Lotheil Court (though she was still banned from the Royal Society), and he’d just dined with Eloise and the Farthingales in the Farthingale home.
The duke had said nothing about lifting the Royal Society ban and she hadn’t pressed him on the matter. It certainly was not a topic to be discussed at the supper table. Her mother had worked hard to make an elegant presentation, and Lily had possessed the presence not to ruin it by raising the volatile subject.
Everything in its own good time, her mother often said. Lily had to believe that kindness shown toward the duke would eventually be reciprocated. Not that she was expecting to improve her standing with the duke. Not at all. The point of kindness was to bestow it, not to expect or demand gratitude from others. Still, she hoped to mellow the duke by setting a good example. He didn’t need to bribe her to help make the Camerons a family. All he needed to do was ask. She was doing it anyway, for Meggie’s sake. “Affection has to be earned, not bought.”
“Did you say something, Lily?”
“No, Meggie. Just thinking aloud.”
“Mr. Giancarlo’s about to start singing again. We’d better take our seats. I’ve saved one for Ewan.”
Lily glanced around. “He isn’t here yet.”
“He will be. He said he’d attend and he always keeps his word.”
As if on cue, there was a sudden flurry of excitement by the doorway. Lily didn’t need to see Ewan to know that he’d just walked in. The expression on the faces of the females in the room gave it away. Did she look like that? All moon-eyed and breathless whenever he drew near?
He made his way through the crowd toward them. Oh, crumpets. He was wearing a kilt. Typical Ewan, making a scene... goodness, he looked handsome... looked better in a frock than she did. Looked more manly and rugged than any other man in the room, even though all the other men were wearing trousers. How did he manage that?
He’d done it on purpose, swaggered in dressed in his Highlander garb to purposely stick his Scottish thumb in his grandfather’s eye, as if to say “I’m a Scot and proud of it. I refuse to accept your Sassenach ways.”
Too bad. His grandfather had been on his best behavior this evening. Ewan was about to ruin it.
“Ewan, thank goodness you’re here,” Meggie called to him. “Come sit by us. We’ve saved you a chair.”