Page 72 of The MacGregor's Lady
Her mouth had a pinched look, not quite bitter, but thoroughly disillusioned. Her eyes were flat, seeing disappointment far more easily than hope. Her hands were no longer young and soft…
“We’re going back to Edinburgh,” Hannah said, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Balfour is declining invitations, and we’re to take a repairing lease among a fresh crop of bachelors.”
Enid stopped fussing her hair to scowl at Hannah. “That will not do. You cannot be seen to turn tail and run after tonight’s debacle. You must be seen out and about.”
And Enid must continue her flirtation with the redoubtable Mr. Trundle.
Hannah crossed the room, intent only on leaving. “I will accept Balfour’s guidance in this, Aunt, and so will you.”
“You must help me with this brooch, Hannah. I swear I shall tear it off if you don’t.”
The center of the brooch was a cluster of red gemstones, the intent to remind all and sundry of the biblical worth of a good woman, no doubt. “It’s paste,” Hannah said, hand on the doorknob. “Do with it what you must, but direct your maid to start packing in the morning. We’re going back to Scotland.”
***
Asher found his quarry easily enough, accosting her as she left Enid’s chambers and moved down the hallway toward her own.
The medical part of his mind noted that her complexion was back to its normal perfection, and her eyes had their customary alert snap. “You’ve eaten?”
“I had a very satisfying late supper, thank you, complete with cake.”
The consonants were bitten off, the vowels compressed with… not anger. Anger was the decoy, the distraction drawing notice from… her bewilderment.
Or her homesickness, possibly both.
“If you have some time, Hannah, I would beg a word with you.”
She arched a brow—likely at the word “beg”—then took him by the wrist and led him to her sitting room. Another private situation, but this time with Hannah being the one to determine their direction and destination.
And yet he was a little pleased when she closed the door behind them, sat herself down on the sofa, and crossed her arms. “You may have that word now, my lord.”
She’d closed the door, which meant he hadn’t had to see to it himself. “How are you?”
Some of the fight went out of her. She uncrossed her arms and picked up a blue satin pillow from a corner of the sofa. “I am so wroth with Enid I could howl. She had the modiste take in my waistlines, and the result… suffice it to say, I will not be wearing my most fashionable attire anytime soon.”
Asher ambled across the room and poked up the fire. “She means well. She wants you to make a good impression.”
“The better to marry me off to some fellow with a moldering estate in the Lakes, while the hapless Mr. Trundle stumbles about in Aunt’s gun sights like some penned hart at a Continental battue.”
The Lakes were beautiful. Now was not the time to make that point. Asher appropriated a seat beside the woman whose suffering he would alleviate by any means possible. “We have a greater problem than Enid’s just desserts.”
Hannah hugged the pillow to her chest. “How much worse can it be? I was found nearly undressed in your exclusive company by two of the biggest gossips in captivity, and all because Malcolm insisted on looking up some word or other at that very moment.”
“Quaquaversal. It means from all sides, or all about one.”
She closed her eyes and hugged the pillow more tightly. “I know my Latin, Asher MacGregor.”
That she was forgetting to my-lord him was a sign of her upset. What had been repugnant to her rebel sensibilities had become a means for her to keep distance from him, and now…
He tugged on the pillow. She didn’t give it up, but met his gaze for the first time since they’d closed the door. “We need to discuss tonight’s little drama, Hannah.”
Ian had certainly discussed it with Asher, at length and in volume, supported by Gil and Connor. At least Spathfoy hadn’t been in the room.
“I swear, Asher MacGregor, if you’re going to blame me—”
“I blame myself.” He tugged on the pillow, and this time, she let it go. “I should have done exactly as Lady Alcincoate said. Planted you in a chair in full view of the ballroom, let you catch your breath, and borrowed somebody’s painted fan to revive your flagging energies.”
“I fainted, Asher. I was not in need of reviving. I could not breathe.”
