by Deborah Hale
Heavens! This dance had become more like a fencing match set to music. For all that, some traitorous part of Claire enjoyed their thinly veiled cut and thrust. She had not felt so alive in years.
“My sister may have a strong, even passionate preference for one man this week, sir, then be quite as smitten with another fellow the next. Did it never occur to you why a lady of her beauty and charm should still be unwed at the age of twenty-six?”
Ewan’s roving gaze flitted to Tessa as she danced by in the arms of Obadiah Hutt.
“A bit fickle in her favors, is she?” He did not sound as troubled by the possibility as he should be. “What about ye, Miss Talbot? Why is an attractive lady of fortune like yerself still single at the age of … ?”
“Twenty-eight.” Claire rapped out the words with perverse pride. “As well you know, Mr. Geddes, since my sister was sixteen and I eighteen during your last summer at Strathandrew.”
She let her reply sink in for a moment before she added, “I have not remained unmarried for lack of opportunity. Of that you may be sure. No woman with my size fortune has the luxury of going unpursued, no matter how great her deficiencies of beauty, wit or temperament.”
For the first time since they had been reintroduced, Claire sensed a change in Ewan Geddes’s manner. Gone was the antagonism disguised as affable banter. Something she’d said must have struck a nerve with him.
But what? And why?
For the first time since he’d met Claire Talbot, more than twenty years ago, Ewan felt a glimmer of sympathy for the woman.
In the past year or two, she’d been the target of several fortune hunters. It was not an experience he’d have wished on his worst enemy, let alone the sister of the woman he loved.
Around them, the music swelled to its dazzling conclusion. The dancers came to a stop and applauded politely. Some withdrew from the floor to rest or seek refreshment, while others lingered for the start of the next number.
Though he’d had every intention of escaping Miss Talbot’s company at the earliest opportunity, Ewan heard himself ask, “Shall we have another go, then?”
She seemed as surprised by the invitation as he. “Y-yes. I suppose. Thank you.”
Over her shoulder he could see Tessa staring his way with a look of puzzled annoyance. He tossed her a reassuring wink, hoping she’d understand that he was trying to jolly her sister around.
He was confident Tessa would break her engagement to marry him. But whether she’d stay the course against the disapproval of both her mother and her sister, Ewan wasn’t so certain. Some intuition warned him that he could never win favor with Lady Lydiard. But Claire Talbot might just learn to like him, if she’d let herself.
Perhaps he needed to take a different tack with the lady. Remember that he was no longer a nineteen-year-old gillie with a chip on his shoulder the size of a full-grown Scotch pine, and stop letting her gibes get under his skin. Lavish on her a little of the charm with which he’d won her sister’s heart.
“Only a rank fool would claim ye lack for wit, Miss Talbot.” He held her out at arm’s length and pretended to scrutinize her from head to heels. “And I can’t say I see any deficiency in yer looks, either.”
Nor did he.
Oh, she might not have the breath-catching beauty of his Tessa, but Claire Talbot was a bonny woman all the same. What her distinct, regular features lacked in softness, they made up for in character. Her eyes were not the warm blue-green of some southern sea, but the bracing blue-gray of a Highland loch. If he had not known her age, he would have guessed her to be several years younger.
His modest compliment seemed to fluster her more than any of his subtle digs. “You needn’t take pity on me, sir. I’ve lived with my sister long enough to recognize female beauty. And to know that I do not find it in my own looking glass.”
The music began again, this time a gentler melody that put Ewan in mind of a spring breeze whispering through the trees around Loch Liath.
He drew Miss Talbot toward him.
“Pity?” He stared at her as if he’d never heard anything so outrageous. “Ye’ll get none of that here, lass. For ye never had a drop to spare for me in the old days.”
And that, Ewan realized, was one thing he’d always liked about her. Oh, she’d taunted him, outright insulted him at times. Yet somehow she’d made him feel it was because she considered him an equal in character—a worthy opponent, not some poor soul she ought to patronize with gracious platitudes.
“I reckon there’s more than one kind of beauty, don’t ye?” he asked.
“What other kinds can there be?” She sounded dubious.
“Well …” Ewan scrambled for an example that would prove his point. “Plenty of folks think Surrey’s a beautiful place.”
“I am one of them.”
“Does that mean the Highlands aren’t beautiful, then?” He twirled her about so fast it made him a trifle dizzy. “Just because they don’t look like Surrey?”
“Well, of course not!”
The sincerity of her outrage touched him.
“There ye go, then. Perhaps Miss Tessa’s got a Surrey kind of beauty and ye’ve a Highland kind.”
“Harsh, rugged and cold?” Her eyes sparkled with triumph at having cornered him into a slight he hadn’t meant.
“If I didn’t know better, Miss Talbot, I’d swear ye were fishing for flattery.”
“You were once a gillie. Tell me, am I using the right bait?”
If he hadn’t known better, Ewan might have supposed she was trying to flirt with him. But Claire Talbot flirting? No, that was too outrageous.
“Ye shouldn’t have to speak ill of yerself to get folks to praise ye. I expect ye know yer own worth well enough, and I think ye know what I meant about Highland beauty, too.”
“Perhaps I do, Mr. Geddes.” She spoke in a soft voice, and for a moment, her face took on a pensive look. Then her guard went up again. “You’re a more skillful flatterer than most men of my acquaintance. You don’t make the mistake of laying it on too thick.”
Ewan laughed. “I think ye’ve given me an indirect answer to my question, Miss Talbot.”
“Pray, what question might that be?”
“The impertinent one about why ye hadn’t found a husband.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “With the equally impertinent reference to my advanced age?”
“Guilty as charged.” Ewan flashed her a rueful grin. “Dare I offer a humble apology and throw myself on the mercy of the court?”
“Anything is possible, though I doubt you have a humble bone in your body.” Her expression softened. “Very well, then, I accept your apology. I am not ashamed of my age, nor of being unwed.”
“No reason ye should be. I’d say ye’re not married because ye haven’t yet found a man who can give ye a good run for yer money.”
She considered his suggestion. “If one did present himself, I expect he’d be lost in the scrum of those anxious to chase my money.”
Again Ewan found himself laughing at one of her wry quips. He’d often thought something like that of himself.
That was why he’d decided not to reveal the full extent of his wealth until Tessa had formally accepted his proposal. Not that he had any fear she’d wed him for his fortune. How much sweeter his victory would be, though, if she had no idea how far he’d risen in the world, but agreed to wed him just the same.
The thought made Ewan anxious to get back to her as soon as this waltz ended. He nearly missed the words Claire Talbot murmured. Ones she might not have meant to speak aloud.
“I once thought I’d met a man who could give me a run for my money. It turned out I was wrong.”
Ewan forgot about not feeling sorry for her.
Little wonder she mistrusted his feelings for Tessa if she’d been sought after by fortune hunters and let down by the one man she’d cared for.
The music ended and once again the dancers applauded.
“Thank you, Mr. Geddes.”
Claire Talbot backed away from him. “You’re a fine dancer.”
He bowed to acknowledge the compliment. “I’ve learned a thing or two in the past ten years. Including that I’m the one who should thank ye for the honor of yer company.”
When she started to turn away, Ewan caught her hand. “I expect we’ve both changed a good deal in the past ten years, Miss Talbot. Maybe we should stop treating each other as though we’re the same folk we were then, and make a new start. What do ye say?”
Her gaze seemed to search his face, weighing his sincerity.
Ewan found himself hanging on her reply with far more suspense than it merited.
Then her face blossomed into a smile as sudden and unexpectedly bonny as the blooming of the heather. “Very well, Mr. Geddes. What you say makes a great deal of sense.”
Her agreement and the modest compliment elated Ewan far more than they ought to have.
“But,” she added in a tone that brooked no contradiction, “that does not mean I will surrender my sister to you without a fight.”
Ewan considered for a moment. “It doesn’t mean I’ll give her up without a fight, either.”
Strangely, the prospect of such a battle of wits and wills with Claire Talbot fired his blood.
Chapter Three
“Come now, Tessa, be sensible, dearest,” Claire begged her sister. “You can’t mean to jilt poor Spencer over a man you barely know.”
A few days after the Fortescues’ ball, they sat in the morning room of Lydiard House. Claire occupied an armchair opposite a matching settee that held Tessa and her mother. A tea tray rested on the low table between them.
This was the first time in the three years since her father’s death that Claire had paid a call on Lydiard House.
“I wish you wouldn’t use an awful word like jilt!” Tessa thrust out her full lower lip in a pretty pout. “It sounds perfectly heartless!”
Lady Lydiard set down her cup of tea, for once in complete agreement with her stepdaughter. “It is a rather heartless thing to do, dear, no matter what you call it. Especially considering how long poor Spencer has waited for you.”
“That’s part of the problem, isn’t it?” Tessa’s splendid eyes flashed with more green than blue, a sure sign of rough sailing for anyone foolish enough to oppose her. “If Spencer had been truly eager to marry me, I cannot believe he would have stood for so many delays.”
After the forbearance he’d shown her sister, Claire would not tolerate hearing Spencer Stanton abused. Not even by his own fiancée.
“Delays that were your idea, may I remind you! Spencer has only wanted to give you time to be certain of your feelings. Would you rather he’d blustered and bullied you to get his own way, like some men?”
“Of course not.” Tessa sighed. “Spencer’s been perfectly sensible and selfless, as always, and I feel ghastly about—” she hesitated over the word, then steeled herself and spat it out “—jilting the dear fellow. But I cannot go through with the wedding when I’m head over heels in love with another man, now, can I?”
It made a sort of topsy-turvy sense, though not a kind Claire could have much sympathy with. If she had given her word, and the gentleman in question had done nothing to make her change her mind, she could not have brought herself to break her promise.
“If you ask me, head over heels does not sound like a very balanced frame of mind in which to make such an important decision.” Claire reached across the low tea table to rest her hand on top of her sister’s. “For Spencer’s sake and especially for your own, please do not act in haste. How much do you really know about Ewan Geddes, after all?”
His name came far too readily to her tongue, curse him! It gave her a ridiculous little rush of pleasure to wrap her lips around it. And to hear it spoken by her own voice … as if that granted her some secret sense of ownership.
Worse yet, the sound of it conjured up a vivid image of the man, and a disturbingly intense memory of how it had felt to whirl around the dance floor in his arms, his voice beguiling her more deeply with every word. It was bad enough she hadn’t been able to get him out of her thoughts last night. If he was going to plague her during the day, as well, how would she get anything done?
“Claire’s right, dear,” Lady Lydiard chimed in, speaking those words for the first time her stepdaughter could recall. “I disapproved of this man when I believed he was simply a stranger from America. But when Claire informed me he was one of our servants … Such an alliance would be out of the question, even if you weren’t already engaged! Really, you might have told me.”
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d fuss. And why should it be out of the question, Mama? You always say what marvelous servants we have.”
Lady Lydiard’s patrician countenance took on a look of horror, like a fastidious clergyman listening to heresy. “Marvelous in their proper places, dear.”
“Proper places—tush!” Tessa sprang from her spot on the settee and began to pace the morning room, her delicate hands gesturing wildly as she spoke. “You know I have no patience with that kind of thinking. People are people.”
Where had Tessa picked up her egalitarian notions? Claire wondered. From reading Mrs. Trollope’s novels at an impressionable age? From the handsome but radical-minded tutor their father had dismissed after discovering just how revolutionary some of the young man’s views were? Or was it a natural expression of the rebellious streak her younger sister had displayed as far back as their nursery days?
“Besides …” Tessa made a dramatic sweeping gesture that almost spelled disaster for an Oriental vase perched too close to the edge of the mantelpiece. “Ewan Geddes is nobody’s servant anymore. He is a perfectly respectable man of business in a place called Pittsburgh. And quite prosperous, I dare say. He was able to afford a holiday in London, after all, and his clothes are very well tailored.”
The exchange between her sister and stepmother had given Claire a chance to rally her composure. Now Tessa’s words reminded her of something else.
“I’ve made inquiries about Mr. Geddes, as it happens.”
Tessa’s mouth fell open. “What gives you the right to pry—”
Lady Lydiard interrupted her daughter. “Do be quiet, dear, and listen to what your sister has to say. What did you find out, Claire?”
For the first time in her life, Claire wavered a little under her sister’s indignant glare. It was for Tessa’s good, she reminded herself, and Brancasters’. Yet, somehow, her own foolish partiality for the man tainted her sisterly concern.
“He’s staying at the Carleton, for one thing. A rather expensive hotel for a man who lists his occupation as marine engineer, wouldn’t you say?”
Her sister did not seem to draw the same conclusions as Claire had. Perhaps because Tessa had not been forced to guard herself against fortune hunters for so many years.
“How dare you set spies on Mr. Geddes, just because he and I are friends?”
“I’d call it a good deal more than friends,” Claire snapped back, “if you are thinking of jilting your fiancé for the man. I’ve also discovered that he is employed by the firm Liberty Marine Works.”
The significance of her sister’s words seemed lost on Tessa. She lifted her gracefully arched brows in an unspoken question.
“Liberty Marine Works is a shipbuilding firm.” A sinking sensation had gripped Claire when she’d first heard this incriminating piece of information from Mr. Hutt. Now it returned. “Like Brancasters.”
Leaning on one arm of the settee, Tessa brought her face close to Claire’s. “Then you and Ewan should have plenty to talk about at dinner parties, after he and I are married.”
“Teresa Veronica Talbot!” her mother thundered. “Don’t be impertinent!”
“Impertinent?” Tessa pointed an accusing finger at Claire. “Why don’t you lecture her about the impertinence of spying on a man who’s committed no crime other than once having been in our employ?”
Claire rose fro
m the chair, gathering her self-control around her as a buffer against her sister’s passionate outrage.
She was not proud of what she’d done, but she’d had no choice. Now her sister must face the unpleasant truth about Ewan Geddes, just as she had.
“Don’t you see, dearest? A man who lives beyond his means that way can’t be up to any good. Has it never occurred to you that he may be after your fortune?”
“What fortune would that be?” Tessa crossed her arms over her shapely bosom. “A minor interest in Brancasters and part ownership of Strathandrew?”
Claire bit her tongue to keep from reminding her sister that the Scottish estate had cost more in upkeep over the years than it was worth—an expense she alone had borne.
Perhaps Tessa sensed what her sister was thinking, for her lip curled in an unattractive sneer. “I consider myself fortunate not to have been burdened with great wealth. I am not forced to suspect that any gentleman who admires me has mercenary motives.”
“Well, I have.” Claire forced herself to speak calmly as she struggled to hide the hurt her sister’s words had inflicted. “So I must beg you to trust my judgment. Do you suppose there haven’t been times when I was tempted to trust the flattery of an attractive man? When I wanted to believe he would love me just as well if I hadn’t a farthing?”
The defiant glitter in Tessa’s eyes dimmed, and her pretty features crumpled like a child’s. “I’m sorry, darling!”
She dashed into Claire’s arms. “I didn’t mean to be hateful, truly! I just can’t understand why you’re doing this to me.”
Claire’s eyes prickled with tears she had forgotten how to shed. She couldn’t bear to push the matter so hard it caused an irreparable breach between her and Tessa.
She returned her sister’s embrace, then drew back, taking Tessa’s hands in hers. “I’m not doing this to you, dearest. I’m doing it for you. And for Brancasters. I truly believe Ewan Geddes means trouble for all of us.”
