Page 38 of The Tartan Trap

The man stepped forward as if to ask what Margaret needed, but Ettrick held up a hand and said quite clearly, “No assistance is required at this time, thank you.”

Margaret frowned over at him. “You prefer to carry your own chair?”

“No,” he said, his voice deeper, his accent thicker than before. “I prefer to sit right here and speak to the lady I intend to court.”

Margaret’s chin drew back. “What?”

Ettrick gently placed the bouquet back in her hands. “I came to visit you, Margaret, not your sister.”

CHAPTER 13- CALLUM

“Well,” Ellis said, “should I order a suit for a spring wedding?”

He was propped on the sofa in such an ignoble position that all Callum could see when he first entered the room were the tips of Ellis’s stocking feet propped up on a pillow.

“I hardly think such measures are necessary,” Callum said. “You already own too many suits as it is.”

Ellis deigned to put his feet upon the floor and sit upright. “That was not a denial. It must have gone well.”

Callum shrugged and sent the parlor maid scurrying for tea with a pointed look and a nod of his head. According to his father, there were none who feasted upon gossip like pretty parlor maids. Callum didn’t care to have the entire household know of his doings. After the rumors about the book, he had already replaced his valet with someone more decorous and discreet.

Once they were truly alone, Callum said, “I don’t know how well it went, to be honest. She seemed rather shocked to have me as a visitor.”

Ellis frowned. “You in particular, or a visitor in general?”

“I have no way of knowing.”

“Still, I suppose she warmed up to the idea as soon as you started complimenting her?”

Callum frowned.

Ellis raised his eyebrows. “You did think to compliment her, didn’t you?”

“It didn’t come up,” he grumbled, then shook his head. Of all the foolish things, to forget to tell her how beautiful he found her, how interesting! Then again, she had spoken very little. And how was Callum to compliment her wit if the lady wouldn’t speak?

“Well, there’s always tomorrow,” Ellis said in a conciliatory tone. “Did you at least bring her flowers?”

Callum nodded, grateful that he could answer in the affirmative, glad that he hadn’t bungled the thing completely.

“It’s far more stressful than I imagined,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair.

“It shouldn’t be,” Ellis said. “If neither of you fancies the other, there are dozens of other young ladies you could visit.”

Callum frowned. How was he to explain that Miss Margaret Preston was the only young lady who interested him? He couldn’t, not without revealing his secret. And hers.

“I don’t know,” he said falteringly. “I’m rather fond of this one.”

“Are you?” Ellis arched a brow. “I would have thought that her lackluster reception would have put you off of her.”

“Not in the slightest. If anything, her genuine modesty only intrigues me further.”

“There’s no accounting for taste, I suppose,” he mumbled.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Callum snapped, his eyebrow lowering.

Ellis gave a nervous sort of chuckle and held up both hands. “My, you really are set on her, aren’t you?”

“What did you mean about accounting for taste?”