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“Aye, I heard ye,” Edwina replied hastily. She had not, but she could guess what he had said. “Marry the first man who’ll have me, get out from under yer feet, give up everythin’ I’ve ever kenned, and be grateful ye’ve nae hoofed me out already as Beckingdale isnae me home anymore. Did I miss anythin’?”
Just then, footsteps echoed in the hallway, silencing what might have been another stern monologue from Kenney. A wave of relief washed over Edwina as she looked upon a friendly, familiar face, walking right toward her.
Tall in a more willowy manner than Laird Moore, with a lean figure that made him graceful upon every dance floor, Victor McAdams was precisely the person she had hoped to see. Considered handsome by many ladies, with his ash-blond hair, defined cheekbones, and irreverent green eyes, he was Edwina’s oldest and dearest friend. Almost like a brother she never had.
“I thought I saw ye headin’ this way,” Victor announced, casting a sharp look at Kenney. “I assumed ye’d be in the ballroom, showin’ all these stuffy folks how a lass really dances.”
Edwina sighed. “I would have been, if I’d found someone to dance with.”
“I’ve only just arrived, Lass,” Victor said jokingly, offering his arm.
She took it, trying not to give too smug an expression to Kenney. “I wasnae certain ye’d be here at all, but it has been such a long time since we have seen one another, that I lived in hope.”
“I can never find an excuse to come by Inverness. I promise ye, I’ll do better.” Victor smiled down at her. Grateful to have an ally, Edwina felt her entire body relax.
Kenney snorted. “There’ll be nay point in ye comin’ to Inverness, Victor. If I have me way, she’ll be wed before the seasons change.”
Before Edwina could reply, Kenney strode away, bringing all of that dispersed anger back into her veins.
“I daenae think I could detest a person more,” she muttered, glaring at the wretch before he disappeared around a corner.
Victor chuckled. “Ye’re nae the only one with that opinion.” He paused. “I’m sorry all of this is happenin’ to ye, Lass, and I’m sorry I wasnae there for yer faither’s funeral.”
“Ye’ve been toilin’ hard to improve yer own lands and title, which at least ye inherited with honor,” she replied. “I daenae blame ye. I’m happy ye’ve been occupied, even if it has meant me bein’ woefully bored most of the time.” She flashed him a grin, gradually feeling better again.
Five years ago, not long after Edwina turned eight-and-ten, Victor had discovered that he was to become the Baron of Reindell, up in the northernmost reaches of Scotland. Prior to that, he had been a ward of Edwina’s father, living at Beckingdale Manor as if he were part of the family. He had inherited his Barony in much the same way as Kenney had, but he had not been entitled and insufferable about it. Since then, they had only seen one another at feasts and gatherings throughout the country, and though they kept promising to write, both of them often forgot.
“Ye say that every time we see each other.” Victor nudged her lightly in the ribs. “Ye cannae be that bored with Kenney bein’ so dramatic that he belongs on the stage.”
Edwina snorted. “Och, he’d love that.”
“Shall we dance? I ken how fond ye are of it, though I’m surprised nay man has asked ye already.” Victor furrowed his brow. “It must be the masks. Ye should put yers back on before ye have the entire castle beggin’ for a whirl about the ballroom with ye.”
She smacked him playfully on the arm. “Daenae tease me, Victor. I’ve had a vexin’ evenin’ as it is.”
“Tell me everythin’,” he insisted, leading her back toward the wonderful noise and life and cheer of the ballroom.
* * *
To Edwina’s secret disappointment, they did not dance immediately. Victor fetched drinks for them and ushered her to the perimeter of the ballroom, where he seemed more interested in conversing than dancing. She did not mind, for there was much to discuss, but watching others whirl and jig about the room felt somewhat cruel. It was the sole reason she had attended, so she would be able to dance all night.
“Am I nae good company anymore? Have I been away so long that I daenae amuse ye?” Victor asked, making her realize that she had been watching the dancing couples so intently that she had not heard his last question.
“Hmm? Och, of course ye are!” she assured. “I’m so sorry, I’m still thinkin’ about all of that unpleasantness with—”
Her words died on her lips as she caught sight of the very wretch, striding into the ballroom with an arrogant swagger. He still had not bothered to don a mask, which now seemed even more deliberate to Edwina’s displeased eyes. Evidently, he wanted everyone to know that he was the host—the handsome, uncouth, wretched Laird of this Castle.
Ye’re like a mean trick, wrapped up in pretty paper,she remarked silently.
Apparently sensing that she was thinking of him, Laird Moore’s gaze flitted toward her. Even with her mask, it felt like he could see right through into the very heart of her. A smirk formed upon his lips, making her prickle with annoyance.
At that moment, to add insult to injury, the devil winked at her.
Ye beast! The audacity of ye!Her hands balled into tight fists, her bosom heaving with outrage. In all her three-and-twenty years, she had never encountered a more infuriating man. His handsome appearance only added to the irritation, for, with a face and figure like that, he should have had a pleasing character to match.
She watched him converse with a few guests, including two astonishingly beautiful women who wore the most exquisite gowns that Edwina had ever seen. The ladies were accompanied by two equally striking gentlemen, both of whom lavished the women with tender caresses. Subtle, but sweet to behold.
That is the way handsome gentlemen should behave,Edwina told herself, wondering how two such charming couples could entertain a conversation with someone as coarse as Laird Moore.
