“You are speaking of your father,” Lady Maclean chastised.
“I’m speaking of my sire, Mother. But he was never a father.”
“Oh dear,” Lady Emma responded in an amused tone. “May I please have some morebread and butter?”
“She is jesting, Lady Emma,” Lady Maclean said. “Aren’tyou, Portia?” This was an unspoken command for Portia to mind her manners, but Portia Maclean was a rebel. She wasn’t afraid to call things as they really were. She ignored the command by suddenly becoming interested in what was in her teacup.
Her sister jumped into the sudden void of conversation by saying, “I understand it doesn’t grow truly wintry in Glenfinnan until around mid-January. Is that true, Lady Emma?”
“Yes, the days are mostly rainy but the temperature is generally mild until then,” Her Ladyship replied. “I don’t mind a bit of nip in the air.”
Lady Maclean started on about how perfect London weather was, but Harry was notinterested in conversation or anyone else in the room. He couldn’t take his eyes off Portia Maclean.
He knew she was aware of him.
When she thought the conversation had gone on, she slid a glance in his direction, noticed that his focus was completely on her. She started to turn away and then stopped herself. She met his gaze with a level one of her own. Her eyes were more blue than gray. Clear eyes that didn’t flinch from what was honest.
And then she looked away.
But Harry found himself unable to do so.
Her profile intrigued him. He liked her straight nose and flawless skin. Hers was a classic beauty such as that which could be found in Greek sculpture, a beauty that was often overlooked because of its serenity.
His musing was interrupted by a knock on the door.
Miss Minerva was instantly on her feet. “I’ll see who it is,” she said breathlessly as she almost ran from the room. She opened the door and then her lovely face broke into a wide smile. “Hello, Mr. Tolliver. Please come in.” Harry recognized the name as that of the man who was now her intended.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” Mr. Tolliver said.
“You could never do that,” she replied. “Here, let me take your hat.”
He handed a hat to her, but neither of them moved beyond that exchange. They stood staring at each other. They both had the silliest grins of pleasure on their faces, a sign that the couple was in love.
It was Miss Portia who gently reminded her sister, “Bring the man into the sitting room, Minnie. Or are you going to keep him all to yourself?”
Miss Minerva’s eyes brightened at her lapse of manners, and a dimple appeared in her cheek. “I might just do that.” Harry and Monty had both stood to greet this new guest.
“This is Mr. Oliver Tolliver,” Miss Minerva said, pride in her voice. “He is our local physician.”
Oliver Tolliver?What had his parents been thinking? Harry lowered his head to hide a smile, and then his eye caught Miss Portia’s, but instead of freezing up on him, an answering smile came to her lips. She thought the name silly as well.
“Yes, I know Mr. Tolliver,” Lady Emma was saying, offering her hand. “He was very helpful when I had the croup. Congratulations on your happy news.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Tolliver said. “I am pleasedyou are feeling quite the thing now.” He looked to Lady Maclean, who leaned back against the settee as if not wanting to be any closer than she must to him. “It is good to see you are in fine spirits, my lady,” he said, a hopeful note in his voice.
“Yes. I am,” she replied coolly—and Harry decided he really did not like her. He hadn’t thought much of her before, but to be so rude in the face of her daughter’s happiness? There would be no pleasing a woman such as Lady Maclean. Miss Portia had spoken truly when she’d advised him to warn Monty away. He would give his friend a good talking-to, as well as advising Monty to fall on his knees and thank the Lord he’d never married her. She’d peck a man to death with her tongue, and he now had some sympathy for Black Jack.
Harry moved forward to shake the physician’s hand. “My congratulations as well. We have not met. My name is Chattan, Harry Chattan, and this is General Montheath.”
But before anything else could be said, the screech of a cat filled the air, followed by a woof.
A white blur ran through the still open front door and into the sitting room, followed by Jasper, fast on the chase with every hound instinct he hadin him. He dashed right between Miss Minerva and Mr. Tolliver, almost knocking them over.
The cat raced for the safety of the settee and Lady Maclean. Jasper didn’t have enough sense to stop. He sent the table with the tray of refreshments flying into the air. The teapot landed right in Lady Emma’s lap. The girl’s cry of outrage was louder than the cat’s screeching.
But nothing was as loud as Lady Maclean’s furious demand to “Take that beast out of here.”
Monty jumped into the thick of things. He grabbed Jasper by the scruff of his neck and began dragging the dog out of the room, muttering, “I don’t know what has got into this dog.” Jasper clawed at the hard wood floor in an attempt to gain enough traction to pull Monty back toward the cat.
