Those same years had been unkind to him. They had changed him from a jovial youth to an embittered man. He felt as if he hadn’t laughed in years. Yet, just being in her company for moments had raised his spirits to a level they had not achieved in quite some time. In just the last twelve hours, Francis had felt the greatest of emotions. Emotions he had thought himself incapable of.
He was almost certain now that Eve was the only one who could save him from the bitterness that was starting to rule and ruin his life.
Chapter 15
Later that morning, Evelyn strolled arm in arm through the gardens with her friend, Moira MacKenzie, the final member of the quartet who had also attended boarding school with Evelyn, Kitty and Abby. As she listened with half an ear as her chum gushed about the ball and her dance partners of the previous evening, Eve couldn’t help but chronicle her own evening.
Francis MacKintosh! The name had plagued her all night.
Eve was yet wallowing in the humiliation of her behavior. Behavior that was well beyond her norm, despite Abby’s calming conversation. She hadn’t even been able to recognize herself in that series of rash behaviors. She had gotten so carried away last night. She had almost kissed him in public! She had actually slapped him in public! It was horrifying.
She hadn’t even let him explain that he was divorced! A divorce was scandalous, of course. It surprised her that she hadn’t heard anything about this before. Divorce at their level of society usually brought repercussions through an entire family and yet Sean and Colin were marrying very well and the ball had been well attended. Eve considered it surprising that the MacKintosh family had not become social pariahs. She had been willing to face a life of solitude to gain her freedom from William, yet perhaps in Scotland a divorce didn’t necessarily bring such a stigma. Or at least not to the husband.
However, if she were being truthful, she would admit the fault for her humiliation was her own. It had taken all her determination to don her cloak of cold civility and face everyone that morning, to ignore the gossip. Francis had not helped at all, sending that ridiculously large bouquet with his apologies for his lack of gallantry the night before.
His lack? What about hers? Eve could not fathom what had possessed her. It was as though something had been pulling her toward him. Silly, but true. She should never have danced with him. She was a respectable widow; proper and mannerly. Eve was starting to think that it was safer that way.
She was trying desperately not to dwell on the turmoil that the night’s embarrassment had brought and, as a distraction from the earl and a night of restless sleep, Moira was a miracle worker. This week’s end house party the MacKintoshs were hosting in the days following the ball was the first time they had seen one another in nearly nine years and they were anxious to catch up.
Moira was yet unwed, living in her family home, an ancient keep called Old Klebreck Tower near Loch Carron in the remote highlands of Scotland. Her father, Jamie MacKenzie, was the Earl of Seaforth and her maternal grandfather Neill Mercea, the 22nd Marquis of Landsdowne. One of the oldest titles in the land. As their only heir since the death of her brother, Moira was under constant pressure to wed and produce a future heir for the combined fortune that would fall to her.
Other than that single responsibility, Moira was, by her own admission, extremely spoiled, even more so than Evelyn and Kitty had ever been living under the rule of New York Society. In her six and twenty years, ‘no’ was a word Moira rarely heard. She was headstrong and a bit temperamental, but vivacious and so lovely with her vivid auburn locks and voluptuous figure that she attracted attention whenever she managed to get into a social atmosphere. Life, she claimed, with two old men did not lead to many outings beyond the local physician. So, hereto, was Moira without chaperone other than her great-aunt Edith who napped constantly. It gave them much opportunity to catch up with one another.
Moira was relating to her in a humorous fashion her most recent attempts to find a husband of whom her father and grandfather would approve. “His name is Philip Ahearn, he is the nephew of the bishop of Carron. I daresay he is the first eligible bachelor to make his way to our area in quite some time.” She squeezed Evelyn’s arm and leaned over to confide, “When new gentlemen are met so rarely, I suppose I cannot be too choosy. Unfortunately, Papa and Pops have not yet had that same realization. I haven’t been to Edinburgh in years, much less to London. I have no idea how I am to make an acceptable match under these circumstances!”
“Perhaps I could persuade them to let me sponsor you for a Season in London,” Evelyn offered. “I am sure you could make a good match there. And I would love to have you stay with me. It would be nice to have someone to talk to again.”
Moira grinned in her direction. “I think it would be like old times, do you not?”
“It would,” she replied returning the smile. “I think I shall write to your father this very afternoon and ask him if you can return to Edinburgh with me at the end of the party.”
“Brilliant!” Moira agreed. “We will have ever so much fun together, Evie! I do so want to get married. It’s time I move on…”
“Ladies!” Evelyn and Moira turned to see Glenrothes striding toward them, the morning sun shining on his dark, uncovered hair. Although his tie was neatly done, he was coatless and had left his waistcoat unbuttoned on the chilly April morning. His white shirt stood in stark contrast to his dark complexion and emphasized the width of his shoulders, his riding pants and boots hugging his muscular legs. Although completely taken aback by his utter lack of manner and dress, Evelyn was more undone by the raw masculinity she beheld. She caught her breath at the sight of him.
Apparently she was not the only one overcome.
“My Lord, those MacKintosh lads are divine looking,” Moira sighed under her breath. “Ach! But isn’t that a gorgeous man?”
Evelyn cut her friend a sharp glance, not at all appreciative of Moira’s reaction. Not because it was so close to her own or unwarranted, but because… well, she wasn’t sure why, but she just didn’t like it. “He’s mine,” she whispered forcibly.
Moira raised a brow at her friend’s tone. “I’d be jealous too if he were mine.”
“He’s not mine,” Evelyn returned harshly, embarrassed that her thought had emerged vocally. “Oh! Stop it!”
Her discomfiture caused her to snap coldly at the earl as he stopped before them. “My lord, I’m sure that even in Scotland the same rules of etiquette apply as in other civilized areas.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked in confusion. When he had seen the ladies out walking through the windows of his breakfast room, Francis had decided to take the first steps toward friendship with his Eden by joining them on their walk. An apology was in order and he had meant to deliver it first, but when faced with her pique, he couldn’t help but return to the lightness that her snapping eyes provoked in his soul.
“A gentleman never approaches a lady to converse unless she first indicates that she desires his presence,” she recited as if quoting from one of the dozens of etiquette books she’d read in her life. “And he certainly does not do so in a state of undress.”
“Undress?” Francis grinned without shame, spreading his arms wide to peruse his attire dramatically before looking back up at her, aware that her eyes had followed his and were now filled with a sensual awareness that had him rethinking his decision to bend to friendship. “Aye, I know that, Lady Shaftesbury. However, seeing as this is an informal setting of family and friends at a country home, I thought allowances could be made.”
“Proper behavior dictates that…”
“And it is my own house, of course. Evelyn, my lass,” Francis interrupted – another breach of etiquette, of course, to interrupt a lady – and moved between the two ladies, offering an arm to each. “Do you actually know every rule there is?”
“There are behaviors, my lord, that…”
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” He grinned down at Moira who had
readily taken his offered arm. “And you, brat, how are you today?”
Moira returned his smile with a sunny one of her own and fairly batted her eyelashes at him. “I’m very well, my lord. And you?”
“Call me Francis, darlin’.” He grinned devilishly at Evelyn with a wink, enjoying her gasp of surprise tremendously. He was determined to tease her from her prim decorum if it took him all day. “I suppose if I were wearing my best morning hat, I would tip it and offer you a good morning. But, I’m not, so I suppose I won’t.” He offered his arm again to Evelyn with a raised eyebrow. “Well, my lady?”
“I think that it would be best if we did not acquaint ourselves, my lord.”
“I do not agree, but be assured I will be a perfect gentleman.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I offer my word of honor, my lady, that I will behave.”
“Oh, come along, Evie,” Moira taunted her, “enjoy yourself for a change.”
Outdone by their show of alliance, Evelyn fell in… for a change.
The earl couldn’t help but notice that Eve looked conservatively lovely today in a very nice walking gown of dark green woolen with black cording and black short jacket that just hugged the sides of her breasts. The skirt was drawn up to drape in folds over a black underskirt and gathered up in the back of the tournure. The slim silhouette of the outfit enhanced her tall, willowing figure, showing the flair of her hips and fullness of her breasts to perfection. Just the sight of her stirred his blood beyond the polite boundaries of his vowed friendship. It was all he could do not to stare.
“What should we do today, ladies?” Francis asked casually, as they strolled from the gardens and across the lawns.
Moira tossed a coy look to Eve as she hung on Francis’ arm earning a stern frown from her friend. “Oh, Evie has events and entertainments planned for the rest of the weekend.”
“Do you now?” he asked with a raised brow. “Is there to be no spontaneity then?”
“Any hostess knows that in a large house party there should be plenty of activities planned to entertain everyone,” Eve lectured, while fighting back a blush as if she should be embarrassed by proper organization.
“It’s almost like you are reading from a book, my dear,” he lightly chided. “You should relax a bit. Everything will be just fine.”
“You don’t understand at all, my lord,” she rejoined.
“Francis,” he reminded. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“A hostess’ duty…” she began.
“Can be laid to rest when there is only family in residence. I understand from Abby that most everyone who is staying is a relation. Is that not so?” he asked.
“It is, my lord.” Francis scowled at her and she sighed in defeat. “Francis.”
He sent her a lopsided grin that made her heart skip a beat before it raced. “Well, family does not need to be constantly entertained. They can fend for themselves, leaving you free to also enjoy yourself.”
I was planning on enjoying myself, she insisted to herself, but didn’t say it aloud lest he tease her that she must need to plan time for enjoyment into her day.
“Evie planned for archery today,” Moira told him when Eve remained silent. “Of course, the only reason she did so is because she was always best at it and wants to show off her skills to everyone.”
“Moira! That is not true!” Eve’s cheeks warmed as she felt Francis’ teasing eyes on her face. “It is an enjoyable pastime for all.”
“That you happen to be very good at,” Moira added.
Francis looked at Eve, intrigued. Such a skill seemed much more like the Eve he had met years before. “Are you very good?”
“I have had my moments,” she shrugged modestly.
“Eve won the pin at some big summer tournament in Newport three years running,” Moira clarified.
Francis was impressed and gave a low whistle to signify that fact. “Is that so?”
“It is,” Moira answered for her. “Of course, Evie has always been something of an athlete. Very unladylike behaviors,” she tsked although her grin was wide and playful. “Tennis and golf, as well. Though Abby and I are the ones who taught her to play.”
“You play golf as well?”
“Probably better than you,” Eve amended primly.
“I would not be so sure,” he offered with a challenging glint in his eye.
“Perhaps then, my lord, you should try to do your best at facing me over a chess board, since I have no hope of besting you on a golf course?” A twinkle flashed in her eye before she glanced away.
“You play chess as well?” he asked though he supposed he should not be surprised.
“Ummm,” she hummed mysteriously.
Pleased that the countess was emerging from her shell more and more when challenged, Francis bragged in a way that was sure to prick at her feminine sensibilities, “‘Tis a man's game, you know. Strategy of war and all that. You can’t possibly beat me, you know. I am very good.”
“We’ll see, my lord. We’ll see,” she offered demurely but with a challenging gleam in her eye that gained a delighted grin from him.
“So I will, sooner rather than later, but I would like to see you play golf as well. I have a small country manor just south of St. Andrews that the family stays at when we play, you know. Perhaps we can go there sometime and play a round,” Francis offered. He imagined her swinging a golf club or chipping up to the green against the seas and sky of St. Andrews. It was a sight he truly wanted to see one day. However… he braced himself for what he was sure was coming, and he wasn’t disappointed.
“I am sure that would be completely improper,” was her stiff response as she closed up again. Getting used to this new version of Evelyn, he wasn’t surprised.
“Evelyn Preston, lighten up!” Moira chided suddenly. “You are acting as if you have never bent the rules before. My friend, you spent the majority of your formative years breaking more rules than you followed!”
“Did you indeed?” Francis asked. He was even more intrigued now as he realized how little he had known about Eve really. Sassy and athletic? “Do tell.”
Encouraged by the blatant interest in his eyes, Eve relented for a moment. “My Da always encouraged me to do what I wanted to do, not what others expected of me. I just wanted to travel, see new places, learn new things and meet new people. That’s why I went to university to study art and architecture. I speak three languages, did you know?” she bragged just a bit, though she winced in self-disgust the moment the words were out. She couldn’t comprehend that she was actually trying to impress the man.
“Indeed, I did not know.” He led them to a bench near the firth where Eve had sat the previous morning and brushed it clean before gesturing for them to sit for a moment. It might have been only April, but the sun had moved high overhead now bringing with it undeniable warmth. A few moments of rest were due to the ladies. The bench was in the shade of the large oak and the breeze across the water was cool.
They nodded their heads and thanked him.
“And I liked being an athlete,” she gave the word the same emphasis that Moira had, as if it were something naughty.
“Heavens, Francis,” Moira chimed in. “She wore crimson and diamonds to her debut! Even I was not so daring!”
Francis chuckled at the picture that came to his mind, so far from the standard whites and pearls of the debutantes he had seen, as he lowered himself to the ground at their feet and loosened his tie, thankful that Eve seemed relaxed enough now not to comment on his further bad behavior. “Did you truly?”
Eve shrugged, dismissing the moment, but again there was that glimmer in her eyes that told him she was enjoying the memory of her rebellious self. “Mother was aghast, of course. Da said to do what I want and damn the consequences. The Season we were here, he would always thumb his nose at the sticklers and give them a good ‘Cheerio!’”
Eve turned her face to the breeze, closed her eyes and thought fondly of her father. Despite their
standing in Society, Eve had always called him ‘Da’ rather than the proper ‘Father’ and he called Eve his ‘little sinner’; a nickname many considered common and not a little blasphemous. Kitty he called his ‘little kitty-cat’ showing, in the opinion of many, his distasteful heritage. The Prestons had laughed openly and showed affection for each other in public, which was nearly unheard of in their social set.
“Yet we were very popular here and at home as well, despite our unconventional ways,” she told him. Their popularity was the result of their wit and charm; their acceptance in Society the result of their wealth and connections. The combination of the two had forgiven the Prestons their regrettable Irish heritage and lack of proper form.
“Your mother must have quite despaired in you,” he commented with a chuckle.
Eve shared a laugh and a smile with Moira remembering some of the letters her mother had sent her while at school. “Indeed, she did,” she admitted.
“Well, she had Kitty anyway to mold into her image,” Moira laughed.
“Kitty?” Francis questioned.
“My sister,” Eve reminded, “the one who looks enough like me to be my twin?”
“Ah, I remember.”
“Kitty was always the one who did best following the rules,” Moira laughed. “The rest of us never did! I think Eve might have been the worst of us!”
Moira and Francis laughed over this together but for a moment Eve remembered how she used to be – a mixture of what was right and what was wrong. She and her father, as well, may have lived in a society of rules and rituals, but neither had been very good at consistently doing what was polite and proper, as she was now.
Was either way better or worse?
One did not need to be always proper to have friends and be accepted. She had already proven that. Perhaps she could find her way back to the girl she was without completely flouting the rules of Society. Perhaps there was a way to blend who she had been with who she was now without getting lost in between. The idea bore some thinking about.
Questions for a Highlander Page 33
