began deep in her stomach, as though it housed a thousand dancing butterflies.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and inhaled Ewan’s scent, an earthy scent of pine forest, clean and pure and rugged. “Meggie’s been crying since she arrived,” he said in a whisper. “I can no’ make her stop.”
Lily’s gaze darted to his sister. Poor thing. But what could she do? “I’ll try my best to cheer her.”
Ewan tossed her a lopsided smile. “Och, lass. That would be grand.”
Oh, his smile! The butterflies in her stomach were now dancing themselves into a frenzy.
When he made quick introductions, Meggie graced her with a hesitant smile and Lily returned it warmly. She noted that the duke had not deigned to descend the few steps to greet them but was waiting for them to climb the steps to reach him.
Eloise walked up them assisted by Meggie, who had a hand on her arm. Ewan had tried to offer, but she’d dismissed him with some nonsense about not seeing Meggie for ages and wanting to catch up with all that had happened since Eloise’s last visit north.
Ewan was left with his arm sticking out conspicuously, so he offered it to Lily. “By the way, what’s a paffle?” she asked as they approached the duke, who had escorted Eloise and Meggie into the entry hall.
He chuckled. “A bit o’ land.”
She looked about, her gaze once more falling upon the ducal residence in all its white marble splendor. “Indeed, it’s quite a paffle.” The gleaming entry hall was two stories high and full of light from an elevated row of windows. The light reflected off the black and white marble tile floor. One wall of the sparsely furnished hall contained an enormous mirror edged in gold leaf and, under it, a mosaic table of Arabian design.
“May I present my companion, Miss Lily Farthingale,” Eloise said.
The duke regarded her with the same, dark emerald eyes as his grandson’s. “I know you. You’re that baboon girl, the Farthingale chit everyone at the Royal Society is in a fuss about. You don’t look like much.”
A soft growl emanated from the back of Ewan’s throat, and his hands curled into fists. “Insult her again and I’ll—”
Lily put a hand on his fist. “I am the very one, Your Grace. I’m glad to hear I’ve made you all take notice. Rest assured, you haven’t heard the last of me.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Against your male bastion?” She nodded. “And a promise. I’ll have your ancient walls crumbling before the year is out.”
“Gel, you’re fortunate you came here with my dear friend. Otherwise, I’d have tossed you out on your impertinent ear.”
“Lotheil! Really!”
“I beg your pardon, Eloise. Your young friend here ought to be taken to the woodshed and soundly thrashed.”
Ewan’s sister burst into tears.
Ewan groaned. “Och, Meggie. Will ye no’ stop crying?”
So much for introductions. Lily put an arm about Meggie’s shoulders. “Don’t you fret. You and I shall be great friends. Your grandfather and I are just amiably sparring. It’s all the rage in London to... er... engage in witty repartee. Do you like to ride?”
She sniffled. “I’m no’ very good at it. My brother is, though.”
Lily nodded. “So I’ve heard. Do you enjoy lectures? There’s a fascinating one tomorrow on Charlemagne.”
“Who?”
Lily exchanged perplexed glances with Ewan. “Never mind.”
The duke led them into his conservatory, where a table overlooking his impressive garden was set for five. Ferns in decorative pots stood at measured intervals around the room, except in one spot where there seemed to be a pot missing.
“Jasper broke it this morning,” Ewan whispered. “The big looby slid on his belly across the polished floor and next thing ye know, there’s a great crash followed by a whimper.”
She let out a laughing groan. “Poor Jasper.” The adorable beast did not walk or trot. He bounded, sprang, leapt. “Where is he now?”
“My chamber. Safest
She took a deep breath to steady herself and inhaled Ewan’s scent, an earthy scent of pine forest, clean and pure and rugged. “Meggie’s been crying since she arrived,” he said in a whisper. “I can no’ make her stop.”
Lily’s gaze darted to his sister. Poor thing. But what could she do? “I’ll try my best to cheer her.”
Ewan tossed her a lopsided smile. “Och, lass. That would be grand.”
Oh, his smile! The butterflies in her stomach were now dancing themselves into a frenzy.
When he made quick introductions, Meggie graced her with a hesitant smile and Lily returned it warmly. She noted that the duke had not deigned to descend the few steps to greet them but was waiting for them to climb the steps to reach him.
Eloise walked up them assisted by Meggie, who had a hand on her arm. Ewan had tried to offer, but she’d dismissed him with some nonsense about not seeing Meggie for ages and wanting to catch up with all that had happened since Eloise’s last visit north.
Ewan was left with his arm sticking out conspicuously, so he offered it to Lily. “By the way, what’s a paffle?” she asked as they approached the duke, who had escorted Eloise and Meggie into the entry hall.
He chuckled. “A bit o’ land.”
She looked about, her gaze once more falling upon the ducal residence in all its white marble splendor. “Indeed, it’s quite a paffle.” The gleaming entry hall was two stories high and full of light from an elevated row of windows. The light reflected off the black and white marble tile floor. One wall of the sparsely furnished hall contained an enormous mirror edged in gold leaf and, under it, a mosaic table of Arabian design.
“May I present my companion, Miss Lily Farthingale,” Eloise said.
The duke regarded her with the same, dark emerald eyes as his grandson’s. “I know you. You’re that baboon girl, the Farthingale chit everyone at the Royal Society is in a fuss about. You don’t look like much.”
A soft growl emanated from the back of Ewan’s throat, and his hands curled into fists. “Insult her again and I’ll—”
Lily put a hand on his fist. “I am the very one, Your Grace. I’m glad to hear I’ve made you all take notice. Rest assured, you haven’t heard the last of me.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Against your male bastion?” She nodded. “And a promise. I’ll have your ancient walls crumbling before the year is out.”
“Gel, you’re fortunate you came here with my dear friend. Otherwise, I’d have tossed you out on your impertinent ear.”
“Lotheil! Really!”
“I beg your pardon, Eloise. Your young friend here ought to be taken to the woodshed and soundly thrashed.”
Ewan’s sister burst into tears.
Ewan groaned. “Och, Meggie. Will ye no’ stop crying?”
So much for introductions. Lily put an arm about Meggie’s shoulders. “Don’t you fret. You and I shall be great friends. Your grandfather and I are just amiably sparring. It’s all the rage in London to... er... engage in witty repartee. Do you like to ride?”
She sniffled. “I’m no’ very good at it. My brother is, though.”
Lily nodded. “So I’ve heard. Do you enjoy lectures? There’s a fascinating one tomorrow on Charlemagne.”
“Who?”
Lily exchanged perplexed glances with Ewan. “Never mind.”
The duke led them into his conservatory, where a table overlooking his impressive garden was set for five. Ferns in decorative pots stood at measured intervals around the room, except in one spot where there seemed to be a pot missing.
“Jasper broke it this morning,” Ewan whispered. “The big looby slid on his belly across the polished floor and next thing ye know, there’s a great crash followed by a whimper.”
She let out a laughing groan. “Poor Jasper.” The adorable beast did not walk or trot. He bounded, sprang, leapt. “Where is he now?”
“My chamber. Safest
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