Page 67 of Tempting the Highland Spy
Chapter Nineteen
Harrison’s expression changed so abruptly, Grace wondered if she’d trod on his toes. No, that wasn’t it. She certainly would have felt his heavy leather shoes beneath the kidskin soles of her slippers.
His mouth flattened, slightly tense. A heartbeat later, amusement flickered in his eyes. “You’re about to learn one of my darkest secrets.”
“Oh, how very scandalous,” Belle said cheerfully.
“I’m afraid it’s not anything so exciting as a scandal,” Harrison said. He raked a hand through his hair. “The truth of the matter is, I’m a hopeless clod on the dance floor. The skill is one I do not possess.”
“Don’t be silly, darling. There’s nothing to it,” Grace said. “You simply move to the music.”
His brows drew together. “When it comes to dancing, I possess the abilities of an inebriated mule.”
“Surely you exaggerate,” Grace said lightly. The man was athletic and agile. Certainly, he could master a simple dance step. After all, she’d learned the waltz in Aunt Thelma’s parlor, tutored by an arthritic old gent she suspected had fancied her aunt. Aunt Thelma had regarded the skill as a necessity for their line of work. After all, what woman worth her silk stockings didnotknow how to waltz?
One-two-three.One-two-three. The memory of her clunky lessons played in her head. Surely Harrison could not be less skilled than the creaky-kneed man who’d been her teacher.
“Sadly, I am not distorting the truth.” He offered a solemn shake of his head. “My sister, Maggie, tried to teach me. One lesson, and she limped off in frustration.”
As if she’d sensed Harrison was in need of a distraction, Mrs. Carmichael popped through the crush and headed straight their way. The woman had an uncanny sense of timing.
For once, Harrison smiled at the sight of her. “You’re looking well, Mrs. Carmichael.”
Indeed, she did look lovely that evening. She’d selected a gown of cobalt-blue velvet trimmed with hints of black lace and white chiffon that flattered her statuesque figure. Unlike the blue of Lady Sybil’s gown, this hue complemented the tones of Mrs. Carmichael’s complexion, bringing out an inner radiance. A single strand of pearls graced her throat. She was elegance personified.
“Thank you, Dr. MacMasters,” she said with a hint of a blush. Her gaze flickered to Grace. “The two of you make a striking couple, if I may be so bold.”
Sincerity infused her words. Either the woman was an excellent actress, or she meant what she’d said. Was it possible she was actually fond of Harrison?
Harrison took the opportunity to introduce Mrs. Carmichael as Grace’s social secretary. A little vee formed between Lady Edythe’s highly arched brows.
“A social secretary? What a charming concept,” she said as she studied the matron. “I simply must find one of my own.”
Mrs. Carmichael hiked her chin. The coolness in her eyes contradicted the thin smile on her lips. “I do not believe you’ll find hiring a secretary to be an overly challenging task, Lady Edythe. It’s not as if we’re a rare species.”
“Quite so.” Lady Edythe clipped the words between her teeth. Her attention shifted from the matron to a strikingly handsome violinist. She flashed Belle a knowing glance. “I really do need to mingle a bit. Aunt Sybil is having far too grand a time, and I cannot allow that crone to outdo me, now, can I?”
“Oh, no, you wouldn’t want that,” Belle agreed lightly.
“My aunt and I would enjoy a bit of time to discuss last minute preparations for the wedding. Might we sit down for tea tomorrow afternoon?”
Belle nibbled her lip, but when she spoke, her voice showed no trace of apprehension. “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”
“Marvelous.” Lady Edythe’s gaze darted to Grace. “I assume you will join us. As I understand it, you will be serving as a bridesmaid.”
“I look forward to it,” Grace replied.
“I do hope so. I eagerly anticipate learning your story, dear. After all, it’s not every day that an American heiress leaves behind everything she knows to marry a Highlander.”
With that, Lady Edythe took her leave, weaving her way around the dance floor with determined, graceful strides.
“Edythe takes a little getting used to.” Belle said. “She’s a bit prickly on the surface, but deep down, she’s a dear.”
Deep down?Grace could not imagine warmth beneath Lady Edythe’s imperious manner. She’d little choice but to abide the woman. But she’d reveal as little as possible to theladyand her aunt.
She slid Mrs. Carmichael a speaking glance. The matron’s mouth curved, an understanding smile.
“I do look forward to getting to know both Lady Edythe and Lady Sybil. If they are friends of yours, I am positive I will grow to cherish them.” Grace indulged in another sip of champagne, as if to wash down the words she’d spoken. “How did you become acquainted?”
