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,