Page 81 of When the Rogue Returns
“And if you don’t?” he asked.
“I’ll make youbanketstaaf,” she said with a smile.
“Will you lick your fingers when you’re done?”
Color rose in her cheeks. “Victor! Don’t be rude!”
But he saw her smiling as she began the long trek toward the other end of the course.
As she’d watched them banter, Miss Gordon had worn a guarded expression. But when Isa paused to look back, then stuck her tongue out at him, the young woman burst into laughter. It pleased Victor to see Miss Gordon coming out of her shell under Isa’s encouragement. She was even wearing those ridiculous purple walking shoes Lochlaw had bought.
“Can’t you do something about this?” said a female voice at his elbow.
Lady Lochlaw. Damnation.
He shot her a sideways glance. Though her evening gowns were provocatively low-cut, the baroness had the good sense to dress fairly modestly during the day. But she flirted so outrageously with the male guests that several of the wives were beginning to grumble. Even Isa had made a few arch remarks regarding the baroness.
Not that he blamed her. Lady Lochlaw was shameless.
“About what?” he said smoothly, though he had a pretty good idea of the source of her disgruntlement.
“My son. And that... that daughter of a tradesman.”
“Ah, you mean Miss Gordon.”
“Of course I mean Miss Gordon. Don’t be impudent.” She glanced over to where Lochlaw was showing Miss Gordon the proper way to hold a golf club, and Miss Gordon was gazing up at him adoringly. “It won’t even do me any good to hire you to find out all her dark secrets. A chit like that is too young to haveany.”
“I should hope so.” He watched as Isa disappeared into the woods after her ball. “I understand why you didn’t like your son taking up with an older woman you believed to be a widow. But why don’t you approve of a young, well-bred maiden?”
“Well-bred—hah!”
He decided to give Lochlaw a little help. “You do know that she has quite a substantial dowry, don’t you?”
The baroness blinked. “Isn’t she the granddaughter of your wife’s partner?”
“Great-niece. Her father, Mr. Gordon’s nephew, is Alistair Gordon.”
She gaped at him. “The coffee merchant who owns half of New Town?”
“The very one.” He suppressed a smirk at her astonished expression. “She’s merely very fond of her great-uncle, so she enjoys hanging about his shop.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Lady Lochlaw said with a sniff. “What is the world coming to? Young women ‘hanging about’ in shops, indeed. What is her family thinking?”
“That it’s better for her to make herself useful to her relations than to sit bored at home? I don’t know. You’ll have to ask them.” He cast her a covert glance. “But your son likes her. Shouldn’t that be all that matters?”
She stiffened her shoulders. “I can see that being related to a duke has taught you nothing.”
He chuckled. “Not enough to suit your ladyship, apparently.”
Waving away a midge buzzing around her head, she murmured, “How substantial is this dowry anyway?”
“Somewhere in the vicinity of twenty thousand pounds, I believe.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Thatisa nice dowry.” Gazing over at her son, she frowned. “Still, my boy could have any young lady of rank he wants. Lady Zoe, for example, would be perfect. Her father is the Earl of Olivier. Granted, she can be a bit too opinionated for my tastes, but she’s an even greater heiress than Miss Gordon.”
He glanced over to where the exotic-looking Lady Zoe was arguing about methods of crop planting, of all things, with some poor gentleman. “Ah, but does she know about atomic theory?”
“Pish posh,” the baroness said with a dismissive waveof her hand, “who cares about that?”
