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Justine kept her gaze on the bracelet she moved around her wrist. “You were saying why you consider Mr. Ashley a good match for me.”
“He’s rich, he’s educated and he is kind. I think he would like your drawing of a teacup very much.”
Justine laughed outright.
“He is a man in search of a woman who will share his view of the world. He does not want to be valued only for his name, any more than you want to be valued only for yours.”
Justine had never said that. It was uncomfortable that someone could read her so clearly. “If he is such a fine catch, why have I not heard of him?”
“You mean why hasn’t he appeared on your mother’s list?” Lila asked with a wry smile.
“I mean exactly that.”
“My list of names extends beyond those who have curried favor from your parents. The world of a sovereign can sometimes be a bit small. Isn’t it at least a little exciting that you’ve not heard of him?”
“Perhaps a little. He means to call today?”
“I’ve invited him to dine. With Lord Bardaline’s blessing, of course.”
“Then you will excuse me. I must see Amelia off for the weekend. And I’ve not seen my dog.”
“Of course.”
“And by the bye, I am attending the opera Sunday evening with Lord Douglas and his friends, Lord and Lady Grafton. Please do not think to introduce me to anyone then.”
“The opera. How lovely.” Lila was smiling like a fat little cat, obviously pleased that she had surprised Justine. Well, the feeling was mutual—Justine was pleased that she’d surprised her, too. But as she walked out of the room, her thoughts were not on what she would wear, but how disappointed she was William Douglas would not be here to see her newest, handsome and kind prospect. How disappointed she was that he’d not be able to find anything wrong with him, and therefore, would not have reason to bet her.
She would, of course, be delighted to tell him how wrong he was when she saw him in a few days for the opera.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MACDUFFWASLOSINGhis touch. He’d selected three neck cloths and none of them complemented the pale blue-and-black-checked silk waistcoat William wore. He held up a dark green neck cloth to his collar and turned to his valet. “Are you blind, then, Ewan?”
“No.” He squinted at it. “What color is it?”
William dropped his hand and stared at his old companion. “You’re color-blind? How has that escaped my attention all these years?”
“Och,”the big man said. “You donna care for things like colors. And I’m no’ blind toallof them.”
“This explains so much,” William said. He walked to his bureau and pulled open a drawer. He rummaged around until he found a plain black silk neck cloth and put it on. When he was finished dressing for the opera, he examined himself in the mirror. His waist was still fairly trim, but not as trim as it once had been. He was taller than most, a fact that had always pleased him...but not as tall as MacDuff. His dark hair could stand a bit of a trim, as well as his sideburns. He’d have MacDuff tend to that on the morrow.
He put out his hand, palm up. MacDuff put a top hat into it. The brim was felt, the crown black silk. It was an expensive hat. William donned it and turned to face Ewan.
“You look well indeed, milord.”
“No’ too long in the tooth?”
MacDuff grunted. “You’re a young man yet.”
“Still attractive to the fairer sex?”
MacDuff waved his thick hand. “Aye, milord, what your purse doesna catch, your face surely will.”
William grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s why you’ve remained in my employ all these years. Remind me to increase your wages, aye?”
“Aye, that I will.”
He wouldn’t. He once complained that he had more than enough, and any more would be an embarrassment. One had to admire a man who said such things.
