by Meara Platt
“You’re frowning. Why are you still angry with him?”
“I’m not... not really... not anymore. He’s definitely holding back about his family, but on the whole he’s been incredibly noble. It’s Meggie I worry about. I think of her as an unpainted canvas with all these lovely colors to be applied to create a masterpiece. But how can I paint a proper portrait if important colors are missing?”
“And Eloise won’t tell,” Dillie said, having already heard that complaint from Lily.
Lily rolled her eyes. “Can you believe it?”
“Then you’ll just have to work on Meggie.”
“I don’t think she knows the entire story.”
“So we’re back to Ewan. And that will only make you angry again.”
She slumped her shoulders and let out a sigh. “No, it won’t. I like him.”
Dillie grinned. “A little more than you’d care to admit.”
Lily nodded. “He melted my heart the other day, buying me flowers and offering encouragement, something I sorely needed after the humiliating set-down I received at the Royal Society.” She paused to glance at Dillie. “Not even Ashton stood up for me, though I wouldn’t have expected him to since he’s their newest member. I would never ask him to anger his colleagues, especially within a month of his admission. I’m sure he’ll say something in my defense at one of their private meetings. After all, I’m helping him with his latest monograph on the impact of earthquakes and other catastrophic events on the evolution of lemurs on the island of Madagascar.”
Dillie rolled her eyes. “I’m all agog. Can’t wait to read about his monkeys.”
“Lemurs aren’t monkeys, but I can’t either,” she said with enthusiasm, then realized her sister was merely being sarcastic. “Oh, but it is interesting. I’ve been helping him gather information on the various lemur populations in Madagascar. Never realized there were so many distinct offshoots, and—”
Dillie jutted her jaw, pounced on the bed, and began to make monkey sounds just as their mother swung open their door and dashed into their bed chamber. Sophie Farthingale came to an abrupt halt. “Lily, I warned you all that studying would damage your constitution,” she said, staring at Dillie, who had frozen in mid monkey grunt. “I do wish you’d take the season more seriously. Why can’t you behave like Dillie?” She mistakenly pointed to Lily and flashed her a warm, maternal smile. “Now you’ve made me forget why I came up here. Oh, yes! Eloise’s carriage is at our gate.”
“We promised to take Meggie Cameron shopping today,” Lily explained, though only she had promised to take Meggie, but to now reveal that she was Lily would only confuse her mother, who seemed to have raised confusion to an art form. Not that she was to blame. Anyone would be attics-to-let trying to manage a household full of Farthingales for the season. They’d descended on Number 3 Chipping Way from all over England. Yorkshire Farthingales. Oxfordshire Farthingales. Devonshire Farthingales. Dozens, possibly hundreds, swarming like bees about John and Sophie Farthingale’s London townhouse. Honestly, couldn’t they find residences of their own?
Her mother glanced at the box on the bed. “What is your riding habit doing in that box? Never mind. Make sure Sally brushes the dirt off it. Oh, perhaps she has. It looks new, as though it’s never been worn. Well, hang it up with your other gowns.” She turned on her heels and hurried out.
“Must I go shopping?” Dillie asked when they were once more alone. “I was going to visit Daisy.”
“I’ll drop you off along the way. Give her a hug for me.” Daisy was due to give birth soon, though the newest addition to the family wasn’t expected for another month yet. Which meant Lily and her sisters would meet at least once more before the baby was born.
She thoroughly enjoyed their monthly meetings. Laurel was to host the next one this coming Thursday, and Lily looked forward to it. Not only did she miss her sisters, but she also wanted to speak to them about Meggie and ask for their help in easing the shy girl into some of the smaller family gatherings.
She could also ply them for gossip. Laurel’s husband, Graelem, was a friend of Ewan’s. Perhaps he knew more about the Cameron family bitterness.
After dropping off Dillie, she directed the driver to take her to Lotheil Court. Meggie stood waiting on the steps. She cast Lily a sweet, sincere smile, entered Eloise’s carriage, and settled in. “Good morning, Lily. I hope I haven’t put you out.”
“Not at all. I look forward to shopping with you.”
“I’m so glad.” She nibbled her lip. “You always look so elegant and I know so little about fashion.”
“I’m sure I know even less. My sisters, Rose and Daisy, are far more capable. They helped my mother choose my wardrobe. I asked them to join us, but Rose is busy entertaining her husband’s family and Daisy is about to give birth. Laurel knows horses, not clothes, and Dillie promised to visit Daisy today. So, I’m afraid it’s just the two of us. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not. It’s just that—”
“You mustn’t fret,” Lily insisted when Meggie began to nibble her lip again. “Madame de Bressard knows what she’s doing. All you have to do is trust her judgment, and I’ll watch her prices.”
Madame de Bressard greeted Lily and Meggie with exuberance as they entered her salon, and then with a sharp clap of her hands and some hastily uttered orders in French, she had her staff scrambling for fabric samples. “See, I told you she’d know precisely what to do,” Lily said, watching half a dozen shop girls rush to obey those orders with the discipline and precision of the elite King’s Guard.
Meggie’s eyes brightened and she managed a genuine smile. “Oh, Lily! You’re right. This is going to be such fun.” Her trepidation now eased, she allowed Madame de Bressard’s girls to fuss about her. That freed Lily to listen to Madame’s design ideas—shockingly expensive ideas, all requiring exquisite fabrics—all of which were approved by Lily after a good bit of haggling.
After all, she would not allow Ewan to be duped. He was generous with those he loved—or those like her, to whom he felt he owed an obligation—but that didn’t mean she could spend him into the poorhouse.
“Lily, I’ve had such a lovely time,” Meggie whispered hours later as she was being fitted for the last of her gowns, an iridescent green silk that brought out the green in Meggie’s eyes and the reddish-brown of her hair. “I’m so glad Eloise introduced me to you. I can’t wait to meet the rest of your family. Are they as perfect as you?”
Lily cast her a warm smile. “I’m hardly that. As for my family, I think you’ll like them all, though the Farthingale clan can be quite overwhelming at times. They’re best taken in small doses, so I’ll have you meet my twin, Dillie, first. She’ll join us tomorrow when we return here to choose fabrics for your riding habit and morning gowns. After that, we’ll stop by my sister Daisy’s house. I’m hoping Rose and Laurel will be there, so you can meet all my sisters at once. They’re simply wonderful.”
“I can’t wait to meet them. You’re so fortunate to have such a loving family. We were that way once, but now both my parents are gone and my brother is doing his best to fulfill his promise to our father. Do you know about the promise?”
“Not really. I’ve only heard bits and pieces.”
“Ewan knows more about the family animosities than I do, but the situation is bad. Really bad, Lily. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that my father’s family wishes Ewan dead.”
Lily didn’t wish Meggie to upset herself, so she quickly returned the topic to her own family. “We have a large family, lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins, and many of them are in London for the season. At times, the house feels more like an army barracks. They’re meddlesome and boisterous, but they’re all well-meaning, so Dillie and I endure them. Usually we love them, even when we’re ready to pull out our hair in frustration. Dillie’s much better at handling the family than I am.”
“They sound delightful. Do they need handling?”
“Every
family does to some extent. Dillie is my savior. She keeps them distracted so that I can tend to my studies. I could never have finished a single research paper had she not... well, no point in discussing how she managed it. Though I’d never admit it to her, I think she ended up with the best qualities of us all—she’s smart, funny, caring. But don’t you dare tell her I said so! I’ll deny it.”
Meggie shook her head and laughed. “I promise you, I won’t. I feel much the same way about Ewan. He’s smart, loyal, and protective, and when he loosens up, he has a brilliant sense of humor.” She laughed again. “Don’t you dare tell him I said that. I’ll deny it, too.”
Madame de Bressard bustled in and gave her nod of approval over the green silk now beautifully draped over Meggie’s body. As the shop girls helped Meggie to remove the gown, taking extra care so as not to stick her with the pins, Lily made arrangements with Madame for tomorrow’s appointment. Everyone seemed pleased with the progress made.
Madame de Bressard left to mark down the appointment in her calendar. The shop girls slipped out of the fitting room to set aside the gowns for the seamstresses to finish. “Are you and Dillie really identical twins?” Meggie asked in the quiet of the moment. “Can anyone tell you apart?”
“Your brother can.” He’d proved it when they’d met the other day in the park, though he’d claimed Jasper had given her away. Lily knew his eyes had been trained on her before Jasper had loped to her side. She didn’t wish to think that a stranger could know her so well in so short a time. Especially not Ewan. The mere memory of his dark, emerald gaze raking over her body shot heat into her cheeks.
Meggie eyed her curiously. “You’re blushing.”
“It’s a little warm in here.” Blazing hot fires of hell warm.
“Ewan has that devastating impact on all the ladies,” she said with a knowing grin. “Very little gets past him. He’s the smartest man I know. He claims that you’re smarter. I think he likes you, even though you’re a Sassenach. I’m glad.”
“I’m sure you’re mistaken on all counts.” She didn’t like Ewan in that way. He didn’t like her in that way either. He couldn’t possibly. Men always ran from her and her overactive brain. Ran away screaming.
“I hope not. I like you, Lily. You’ve been wonderful to me from the first moment we met. And you’ve been beyond patient with today’s fittings. I’m glad we’re almost done here. I’ve had a grand time, but I’m getting a bit tired of all the poking and pinning.”
Lily waited in the salon while Meggie returned to the dressing room to don her clothes. Feeling quite pleased, Lily was about to compliment herself for a job well done when the little bell over the doorway rang to signal more customers entering the shop.
Lily turned toward the door. An exquisitely dressed young woman strolled in followed by an equally striking young man. Both were tall and golden-haired. “Good day,” she said, casting the attractive couple a smile.
They ignored her.
She shrugged in response and waited for Madame de Bressard to appear through the curtain separating the salon from the fitting rooms. The agile woman did so promptly and with a cheerful greeting for her new customers.
“Where is the wretched creature?” the female asked, cutting her short.
“We know she’s here,” the man snapped.
“My lord, I don’t know who you mean.” She turned to Lily, obviously seeking help, but Lily was as confused as she.
The man waved his ornate, silver-handled cane in front of her. “Margaret Cameron. The Scottish bitch’s offspring!”
Lily gasped. “Sir!”
She’d heard worse language spoken, but rarely so venomously. Her mind began to race, her first concern being for Meggie’s safety. She had to sneak Meggie out of the shop at once. Was there a side entrance? Who were these awful strangers, anyway?
Madame de Bressard shrank back against the hats counter, in her distress knocking over several hats and feathers. Her complexion was as ashen as the white satin fabric draped over one of the nearby armchairs.
Lily moved toward her, determined to get between her and this unwholesome pair before they frightened the woman into giving Meggie away. Though Madame de Bressard appeared to be made of sterner stuff, not the sort to toss a customer to the wolves, Lily couldn’t be completely sure, so she stepped forward, her chin raised high, and tried a little intimidation of her own. “I’ve waited months for an appointment with Madame and will not have it interrupted by pretentious commoners—”
The man’s lips curled in a snarl. “How dare you! Do you know who I am?”
No, but she hoped to find out. “I’m not in the least interested. You’re obviously not quality.”
“Wretched girl!” He raised his arm and struck her on the shoulder with his cane. She hadn’t seen that coming. He’d actually struck her! “I’m the Duke of Lotheil’s grandson! His one and only rightful heir.”
“An obvious lie, sir.” Ow, that hurt. “I doubt anyone secure in his standing would shout such drivel in a ladies’ dress shop. Now, I suggest you leave without further fuss or I’ll summon my footmen to toss you out.”
He raised his cane again, but as Lily turned to grab a hat pin off the counter to defend herself, the man suddenly moved away. Or rather, he was hurled away. Lifted off his feet and sent flying across the room by... Ewan!
The man landed with a crash atop one of the tables beside Madam de Bressard’s floral silk sofa. Lily watched in horrified glee (or was it gleeful horror?) as the table groaned and then cracked beneath this villain’s flailing weight. His companion rushed toward him.
So did Ewan.
Oh, crumpets! Ewan was going to kill the man unless she stopped him. “Ewan, help me! Please!” She pretended to swoon in that ridiculously theatrical way her mother and Aunt Julia had perfected over the years. She’d never tried it before. She hoped it would work on Ewan as well as it seemed to work on most men.
It didn’t.
Crumpets again! She scampered to her feet, determined to get between Ewan and the man before Ewan lifted him again and tossed him through the window onto the street, because she knew, as surely as she knew the orbits of the various planetary objects in Earth’s solar system, that Ewan was going to do it.
Fortunately, the man’s companion got to him before Ewan did. She leaned over the villain and promptly burst into tears. Loud, wailing, seemingly genuine tears. Lily knew that Ewan wouldn’t shove a lady out of the way, even if she wasn’t a very nice one. “It’s done. I’m fine.” Lily placed a trembling hand on his taut arm. “Let’s go. Please.”
She had to tug on his arm to gain his attention.
Ewan finally turned to her.
She tossed him a weak smile.
He glowered at her, not in anger, but in that man-protecting-his-woman sort of way, that strong, aggressive way a lion might look after chasing away male interlopers who’d wandered too close to the females of his pride. Not that she was one of Ewan’s lion pride. “I’m fine,” she repeated, her heart leaping into a happy dance at the hot, hungry glances he was giving her.
“Lass—” He stopped, his voice raw and rugged, for he could surely tell by the pain reflected in her eyes that she wasn’t fine at all. Her shoulder was throbbing, and the spot where the cane had struck now felt as though it were on fire.
Ewan clenched his hands into fists, obviously deciding that the villain hadn’t learned enough of a lesson and really needed to be tossed through the shop window. At that same moment, two burly men marched in. Madame de Bressard quickly identified them as Bow Street runners hired by the local shopkeepers to watch for criminal activity on the street. They were older men, their dark hair mingled with gray, and their dark eyes sharp and assessing. “We’ll take care of this unruly pair, sir. Sorry they frightened your pretty wife. Are you hurt, m’lady?”
“I’m not—” Lily was trying to tell them that she wasn’t Ewan’s wife, but they mistook her protestations.
“Now, don’t ye deny
it,” one of the men said, holding up a large, callused hand. “Just glad yer husband got here in time to prevent something worse. Now ye just forget this bit of nastiness and let him take care of ye.”
She sighed. “Of course.” And burrowed against Ewan so that he had no choice but to put his arm around her. Oh, he felt good. Warm and solid and good. But that wasn’t her true purpose in burying her body against his... crumpets, she had to concentrate on anything but that animal heat radiating off his body. Right, concentrate on her true purpose, which was to keep him from doing permanent bodily harm to this villainous stranger.
At first, she didn’t think her plan was working, for Ewan’s body grew tenser the closer she burrowed against him. However, when he finally spoke, he managed to speak calmly. First he thanked the Bow Street runners, and then he turned to the young couple. “Stop crying, Evangeline. I won’t kill your brother. Not this time.”
Evangeline? He knew this beautiful young woman? Not that she cared. Not that it was her business. But Evangeline’s brother had attacked her. Well, that made it her business.
Ewan turned to stare at the young man who was shakily rising to his feet. “Desmond, you bloody bastard. Set a hand on Lily again, and I’ll kill you. Come near Meggie, and I’ll kill you.”
Evangeline glowered at him. “Who are you to speak that way to my brother? You’re not good enough to polish his boots. Do you think you can come here and turn Grandfather away from us? You disgusting heathen. We all know you’re only after his wealth and title. You’re nothing but a filthy, Highlands pig. Grandfather couldn’t stand the sight of your mother and he can’t stand the sight of you, so go back to your Scottish hovel before you humiliate yourself. You have no place here among your betters.”
Lily’s fingers dug into Ewan’s hand with enough force to leave the imprint of her nails on his flesh. She was bracing herself to hold him back, for Evangeline was goading him. Especially the remark about his mother. She’d felt Ewan’s heart leap into his throat at that cruel snipe, but he’d surprised her by controlling his anger. He turned to the Bow Street runners. “Take them away.”