“Sorry I’m late.” He bussed his sister’s cheek, and then turned to Lily and grinned. “Och, lass. You’re scowling at me. You disapprove?” He glanced down at his kilt.
“Yes. No. You look wonderful, of course.”
He grinned again. “Of course.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “You could have worn trousers.”
“Aye, I could have. I didn’t want to.” He glanced at Meggie, who’d turned away to speak to some elderly friends of Eloise’s. “How’s my sister managing? She looks happy. Thank you, lass. I know it’s all your doing.”
She sighed, unable to remain irritated with Ewan while he gazed at her in that tender manner, as though her meager assistance meant the world to him. He was being polite to her, that was all. He was so sure of himself, so comfortable in his own skin. He had to be, or he’d never have worn the kilt, or managed to carry it off as though every other man in the room was improperly dressed. He fit in everywhere. She felt comfortable only around her family and books. She wasn’t all that good with people. “Meggie deserves all the credit.”
He was about to say more when someone called to him in a deep, Scottish brogue, the greeting filled with lots of rolling r’s. “Och, Ewan. Therrrre ye arrre, laddie.”
A big man with bright red hair strode toward him. Ewan seemed genuinely pleased to see the fellow, who appeared to be a few years older than himself. “Archie, I heard you were in town. Come join us.”
Archibald MacCorkindale turned out to be one of Ewan’s close friends, or at least Lily thought so by the hearty manner in which they pounded each other on the back. “Callie’s here, too,” Archie said. “She’s eager to see you.”
They had only moments before the singer resumed his recital, but in those few moments, Lily was introduced to Archie’s niece, Caledonia MacCorkindale, a beautiful blonde with gray-green eyes, a melodic laugh, and a cheerful outlook.
Cheerfulness was overrated, Lily thought.
And somehow, in the rush to take their seats when the bell chimed and the Italian singer began to clear his throat, Lily ended up seated in the front row, wedged between the elderly Duke of Lotheil and the young and rakish Duke of Edgeware, while Ewan ended up two rows back between Meggie and Caledonia, who was sitting unnecessarily close to him. She was all over him, to be precise.
“We hate her, don’t we?” Dillie said, leaning across the Duke of Edgeware to pat her hand.
Lily nodded. “Vehemently.”
And if Lily hadn’t been so distracted by petty jealousy—honestly, books were so much easier—she might have wondered how Ian Markham, the notorious Duke of Edgeware, came to be seated between her and Dillie. And might have wondered why Dillie felt so comfortable beside him when everyone knew that the dangerously handsome duke was not to be let near their unmarried daughters.
Lily hurried into the garden when the recital ended. Her head was pounding and her heart ached. Dillie followed her outside. “They’re merely friends,” she said, trying her best to be supportive.
“I have a headache, that’s all. I wasn’t thinking of Ewan’s friends.”
Dillie nudged her. “Yes, you were. Who could miss the way Miss Corkstopper was clinging to Ewan’s arm? I’ll put a laxative in her wine. That ought to keep her occupied for the duration of this party.”
“Don’t you dare!” Despite her desire to wallow in pity, Lily laughed. She knew her sister was capable of doing just such a thing. “I’ll be fine, Dillie. You needn’t poison Ewan’s sweetheart.”
“Who said she was his sweetheart? Did he say so? I’ll poison his wine too, if he’s so foolish as to be taken in by her outward appearance. I saw her eyes narrow when she looked at you. She’s a cat with claws bared and that merry politeness is just an act.”
Lily wished the evening would end. She’d lost the Royal Society. Never had Ewan to lose, that point made painfully clear by the arrival of the beautiful Callie. She wasn’t used to all this turmoil in her heart. How did others bear it?
“Seems Ewan’s smarter than you give him credit for. Here he comes. See, he’s looking for you and not that wicked Corky MacCorkstopper.”
“She isn’t wicked. And her name’s Callie MacCorkindale.”
“That’s what I said. I’ll leave you in his capable hands.” She slipped away.
Lily held her breath as Ewan approached. She pretended not to notice him, instead busying herself by gazing at the stars. It was a beautiful night. She would have noticed sooner if not for fretting over Ewan. The bright silver moon shone like a diamond amid a tapestry of sparkling stars. It was a perfect night for moonlight kisses.