Page 20 of A Scot's Pride
Ashbury laughed harshly, wiping his face with his napkin before taking another gulp of cocoa that burned a little in his throat from the extra spike. “My god, man. And she’s the first woman you’ve taken an active interest in. Perhaps there is something to her sass.”
“I have no’ taken an interest, and I assure ye, her sass is most unbecoming.” But even he recognized his words for the lie they were.
Ashbury shook his head. “I think ye need to amend your list, my friend. Miss Freya Grysham may not be what you think you want, but your subconscious is telling you otherwise.”
The bit of toast in his mouth was hard to swallow as his friend’s words hit closer to home than he would have liked. “Ballocks.”
Ashbury grinned at him as if he’d discovered a deep dark secret. Then he pointed at Bryson, practically wagging his finger with glee. “You like her.”
Bryson straightened. “Rubbish. I do no’ like her at all.” Except that wasn’t true. He’d been unable to put the chit from his mind since his aunt had marched her up to him at the garden party. Every day since, he’d had her in his brain. Even now, over breakfast. What would she do or say if she encountered them in this conversation?
My god, what if Ashbury was right?
“Are you going to the ball tonight?” Ashbury asked, changing the subject.
Suddenly losing his appetite, Bryson set down his fork and wiped his mouth. “Unfortunately.”
“Well, then, I’ve got a test for you, my friend.” Ashbury scooped up a hearty bite and stared at Bryson as he chewed.
“I dinna want a test.”
“You may not want it, but you should take it.”
“All right. Give me the details of this ridiculous test.”
Ashbury chuckled. “Do not speak to Miss Freya. Not even so much as a good evening. Do not even look at her. See if you can last the night.”
“As I said, your test is ridiculous. Of course, I can last the night. I need never speak to her again. I told ye I wasna courting her.” But even as the words formed on his tongue and sounded out before him, his mind played tricks on him, letting in visions of her smile, the way her eyes twinkled when she looked at him with a challenge. The pert little tilt of her mouth when she was baiting him.
Bloody hell.
Bryson cleared his throat as if that would dissipate the confounding revelation attacking his mind. “Well, if I am to have an irritating test tonight, then I propose one of equal annoyance for ye.”
Ashbury pointed at him. “Deal. What is it?”
Bryson grinned. “Ye’ll be doing the opposite, my friend. Do not leave Miss Grysham’s side. Do not dance with anyone else. Cut in if she dances with another. Refresh her punch. Escort her outside if she needs some air. Don’t look at another woman. If she excuses herself to go to the ladies’ retiring room, ye will wait for her just beyond the doors so she canna escape ye when she emerges. If ye can last the night, then perhaps she is the one for ye.” Satisfied with his own test, Bryson sat back and folded his arms over his chest.
Ashbury did not seem in the least bit disturbed. “Easy. I’ve only ever had eyes for her. The only issue I see is if I dance with her more than twice, the tongues will wag.”
Bryson shrugged. “Fine. Let them. Ye are courting her, after all. Lay claim, man.”
“Not that easy.”
“Is it no’?”
“You’ve met her mother. She doesn’t make anything easy.”
“Ah, fair enough. All right, then two dances throughout, and save a third for the verra last, when you cut in on another, to give it a bit of an edge.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Am I? If ye’re serious about making Miss Grysham into Lady Ashbury, then what’s the harm? Declare yourself.”
Surprisingly, Ashbury’s face turned red. “I would declare myself before her right now if I could.”
Bryson spread his arms wide in question. “What is holding ye back, then?”
Ashbury flicked his gaze toward the dejected-looking baron, who happened to be the father of the two women in question. “I’m not entirely certain it’s what she wants.”
