“Hugo, you old dog! Finally returned from your Highland adventures, I see.” Aaron Haynes, the Marquess of Sarford, clapped him on the back before turning his charming smile on Lady Inverhall. “And who is this vision? I do not believe we’ve had the pleasure. But if we have, and I somehow forgot, you have full permission to strike me, madam.”
“Lord Sarford, this is the Dowager Marchioness of Inverhall,” Hugo said, his gaze sharpening slightly as his closest friend stepped forward to greet her. “Lady Inverhall, this is the Marquess of Sarford.”
“It is an absolute pleasure,” Aaron offered as he planted a small kiss on Lady Inverhall’s hand.
“Yes, you already said that—” Hugo started.
“It is worthrepeating,” Aaron cut him off playfully. “I’ll say it once more for good measure. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Inverhall.”
“I must say, the pleasure is entirely mine, Lord Sarford,” Lady Inverhall replied, her cheeks pink and her smile wide.
“Oh, Idolike the way that sounds,” Aaron drawled, letting a slow grin curve his mouth. “That accent of yours is downright dangerous. Tell me, were you born in the wild north of Scotland, or did you just make it sound that tempting?”
Hugo fought hard not to roll his eyes.
“I was, Me Lord. And thank ye for the compliment,” Lady Inverhall responded softly.
“You must get that all the time.”
“Actually, never. Nae once from an Englishman.”
“You jest, My Lady.”
“No, I daenae, Me Lord,” Lady Inverhall said, her voice quiet as she looked up at Hugo, who was not smiling.
“Well, if you’ve been spending time with this old codger, no wonder you are not accustomed to jokes, laughter, or any sort of levity,” Aaron snorted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I daresay I’ll have to make myself more available, if only to give you a proper education in the art of good humor.”
Lady Inverhall chuckled softly, her slender fingers lightly brushing her cheek.
Hugo’s gaze lingered on the delicate motion, and, to his surprise, his heart rate quickened.
“In fact, Your Grace, you look as if you’ve been wrestling a badger. Has the Scottish air finally gotten the better of you?” Aaron asked, giving her a cheeky wink.
Lady Inverhall chuckled louder. “Indeed, Lord Sarford. He was quite the crabbit on the journey.”
Their laughter grated on Hugo, and a flicker of something akin to jealousy pricked his insides as he drained his second champagne flute. He quickly set it on a nearby table.
It was absurd. Aaron was merely being himself, yet something about the ease between him and Lady Inverhall frustrated him.
Just then, Hugo heard familiar footsteps approach, and a feminine voice cut through the polite chatter. “Oh, it is true! There you are, my dear boy! So, you have finally decided to return to civilization! I am glad for once that the rumors are true.”
His maternal grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Tarwood, swept toward them and curtsied. She was a formidable figure in rustling red silk.
She straightened, her eyes sharp as she assessed him. “Two weeks, young man! Two weeks without a word! I was beginning to think you had been carried off by a Highland beast!”
“Good evening, Grandmother,” Hugo offered with a bow.
The Dowager Duchess turned her attention to Lady Inverhall, her warm expression tightening into a mask of formal scrutiny, almost intimidating in its cold precision. Her gaze swept over Lady Inverhall once more, judging and assessing.
“And who might this be, my grandson? Hm… You leave me to my own devices for a fortnight, only to return with a new acquaintance?”
“Duchess, may I present the Dowager Marchioness of Inverhall?” Hugo began.
But Elspeth, perhaps encouraged by Aaron’s earlier charm, cut in before he could finish.
“Yer Grace,” she said with a quick, confident curtsey. “A pleasure to make yer acquaintance, Yer Grace.”
The Dowager Duchess’s eyebrows rose in subtle surprise, clearly taken aback by the forthrightness beneath Lady Inverhall’s otherwise proper address.
