Page 76 of Taming the Heiress
As the night went on, one acquaintance after another, both new and old, told him that he was admired by Lady Strathlin in particular. She had made it clear to many that she thought him to be a courageous man of integrity; she thought his skills and abilities beyond measure and his work of great importance to the nation of Scotland. And it came back to him, too, that she regretted any inconvenience to Mr. Stewart and his project through the overzealous efforts of her solicitors.
Graciously and quietly, he accepted apologies from businessmen who murmured that they had been misinformed about him and that they would indeed be interested in contributing funds to his lighthouse project, if he still had need of it.
He even, at one point, was approached by Sir Edward Hamilton, a gaunt and gruff gentleman, and Sir John Shaw, a portly fellow with a pair of eyeglasses set awry on his large nose. Dougal had earlier noticed the men in an animated discussion with Lady Strathlin and her private secretary, a tall dark-haired young man named Guy Hamilton.
"Mr. Stewart," Sir Edward said, tapping him on the shoulder. Sir John stood beside him, clearing his throat repeatedly. "Might we have a word with you, sir?"
"Mr. Stewart, we may have misjudged you," Sir John said.
"Indeed?" Dougal murmured.
"While the lighthouse remains a matter of debate and negotiation and should not be discussed here," Sir Edward began, while Sir John harrumphed, "it might have been hasty of us... of our associates... to imply that you might be unprincipled."
"Mr. Stewart, we hope for peace between our parties," Sir John said. "Lady Strathlin desires it, as well."
Dougal shook their hands solemnly, wondering if the lady desired it for herself or for her advocates.
Not once, throughout that long, lively, and surprising evening, did he speak again to Lady Strathlin. Not once did he dance with her or murmur to her or hold her in his arms and whirl her about the floor in time to the music. Not once did he touch her or kiss her hand or have the chance to thank her.
Now and again, he caught her gaze across the room, those luminous eyes hauntingly somber in the midst of gaiety. Once, as their glances touched, he gave her a subtle nod that he hoped she would interpret as his acknowledgement of gratitude. She paused in her conversation with Miss Lind to angle her head in silent answer with majesty and grace. His heart stirred and his longing for her grew intense, searing through him like a flame.
He turned away. While his appreciation was profound for the magic she had worked that evening, his pride was great. He loved her and could never doubt it, but he would not let it show.
* * *
Late in the evening, when most of the guests had gone, including Miss Jenny Lind and her husband, a soft-spoken Englishman, Meg turned to see a cluster of businessmen still surrounding Dougal Stewart, murmuring closely and privately, holding wineglasses that had been filled and drained repeatedly all evening. Dougal himself stood listening, no glass in his hand. He nodded intently, his hands shoved in his pockets and his coat draped back, one shoulder leaned against a doorframe, one polished boot crossed over the other.
He looked weary, she thought, for she saw the sag in his shoulders and the subtle drawing down of his mouth. As she watched him, he glanced up, and the magical shock of gazes touching, gentle as hands might do, sent a thrill through her. But he looked away quickly, as he had done all evening.
Sighing, she turned and saw that the conservatory door was open. Angela and Guy strolled in the shadows, she realized, deep in conversation, dark and blond heads leaned together. Angela's hand was wrapped around Guy's forearm. Seeing that intimacy and knowing the spellbinding effect of roses and darkness after a long evening of wine and good company, Meg smiled to herself.
"My lady."
She whirled. Frederick smiled down at her.
She had managed to avoid him all evening, with so many guests and so many interesting conversations, with dancing and music and supper all requiring her attention as hostess. He had been a dark and lurking presence, though at times she had almost succeeded in forgetting he was there at all.
But she could not forget that he expected an answer of her this evening. That much was evident in his dark eyes, which seemed hungry and eager.
"Might I have a word in private, madam?" he asked, and he placed a hand on her elbow. "We've not had a chance to talk as yet. I haven't even had the opportunity to tell you how truly ravishing you look in that gown."
"Thank you," she said, glancing around distractedly. Across the room, she saw Dougal listening to an elderly man rumble on about something. A sharp glance from the engineer seemed to register that she stood with Frederick. He frowned and turned his attention back to his gruff, gesturing companion.
"A walk in the garden on such a lovely night," Frederick said, "would be the perfect ending to a perfect evening."
"I must stay here to say farewell to my guests," she said.
"Madam, they have all departed but for a few gentlemen who cannot seem to stop talking business," he pointed out. "They will not even know you are gone. I ask your complete attention for a few minutes only. Indulge me, I beg you." He smiled and leaned toward her. The smell of wine on his breath was very strong.
"Perhaps tomorrow," she said, turning to step away.
"Margaret, dear—we can discuss our business here, I suppose, if you are so devoted to your company."
She exhaled, recognizing defeat. "Very well." Turning, lifting her skirt with subtle grace, she headed toward the conservatory door, which led out to the garden.
The conservatory was dark, hushed, and fragrant as she walked with Frederick just behind her, his hand on her elbow. Ahead, between an aisle of tall, dense ferns in huge pots, she saw Angela and Guy turn, their faces pale in the shadows. They murmured a polite greeting as Meg and Frederick walked past.
Reaching the garden entrance, Meg waited while Frederick opened the door, then passed through before him, entering a quiet moonlit world. Somewhere in the distance, she heard dogs faintly barking, and late-night vehicles rattled occasionally over cobbled streets, muffled by the peace of the enclosed garden.
