Page 47 of A Rogue in Firelight
“There is more. He says women love to dabble in business, which they always spoil, and believe they are beautiful even when they are ugly.” He glanced up.
“What a hateful man!”
“None of this, by the way, applies to you.”
“Or anyone!” But her heart gave a little fillip with the sweet, casual compliment.
“Trust me, I disagree with Chesterfield in most things.”
“I should hope so. Give it here, sir.” She extended an open palm.
“One last piece of advice. ‘One must be careful never to laugh in company. It is rude and unfashionable.’” He looked up. “Do not dare laugh, Miss Graham—”
Too late, laughter bubbled up in her even as he waggled his finger like a schoolmaster. His lips pinched to suppress his laughter. “Such a rude wee lass!”
“Give me the book!” She took it with two fingers as if it were vermin and set it aside.
“It does not describe you,” he said, sitting back. “You are exceeding proper and very capable, it seems to me.”
“Not quite, though my father wishes so,” she said quickly. “Most of these other books advise that a woman’s chief purpose in life is to make a perfect and comfortable home for fathers, husbands, and children. I am not very good at that, I think.”
“You would be. But women are capable of far more.”
“We are as capable and intelligent as men, but do not always have the education or the chance to prove it.” She set her chin defiantly.
“I learned early from the example of my mother and sisters that the female is often superior to the male in common sense and consideration. If I have proper manners, it is due to the women in my life.” His eyes crinkled in a smile.
“Wise man.” She smiled, and felt as if the keen blue lights in his eyes saw straight through her somehow. If he knew about her hasty marriage, her dream of writing novels, and the low opinion her father held of her, he would not think her so worthy.
“What is this?” He plucked up a slim volume with marbled covers.
“Mr. Scott’s pamphlet of protocols for the royal visit. Lady Strathniven left her copy for you to borrow. We can discuss that book later.”
“And so we have survived our first lesson in etiquette.”
“We have. Oh, one matter before you go, Mr. MacGregor. I had a note from my father this morning when MacNie fetched the mail in Kinross. Papa says Lord Darrach will be invited to attend the royal levee. It is planned as a small gathering for gentlemen who are to be introduced to the king.”
He frowned. “Lord Darrach?”
“My father submitted that name. I suppose we should address you as such now.”
His curt nod told her he was displeased. “I doubt any of the events will be small.”
“This one will be hundreds of guests, I believe. Other gatherings are expected to number in the thousands. The invitations will be delivered a day or two ahead of the levee. The king’s secretary requests an address. Do you know where you will be?”
“Hopefully not in the subterranean accommodations of Edinburgh Castle.”
“Never that! You have a warrant of release.”
“Conditional, according to Mr. Corbie.”
“Accommodations are filling up quickly, Papa says. Rooms and houses are being rented for exorbitant fees. A tiny room for a week could cost the same as a year’s rent. Outrageous! Lady Strathniven mentioned that she would be pleased to have you stay at her home on Charlotte Square.”
“Very generous. I will let you know my arrangements soon. We must be certain of this scheme before too many plans are made.”
“It will succeed. It must,” she added, glancing down.
He stood. “Your father and your suitor may be disappointed to learn that I have not yet mastered forks and dancing.”
