Lord Glendarril who’s to marry Amelia-Rose?” another of the lasses, a pretty, petite brunette with green eyes, asked.
“If we’re compatible,” Amelia-Rose put in swiftly, with a smile that to his eyes looked forced, especially since he’d been sporting one of those for the past thirty minutes, himself. “He’s been so busy; I’m looking forward to spending more time with him.”
He remembered the brunette lass’s name. “Aye. As Miss Baxter says, Miss LeMere.”
“And you have another brother?” Patricia LeMere went on.
“Aye. Aden.”
“Also unmarried?”
Ah, so that was it. “Aye. Nae a one of us is wed, yet.” He put on a thoughtful look. “And I do hear ye have some lovely soirees in London.”
“That, we do.”
By the time he’d heard about every ball, dinner, and dance held so far this Season in London, the pheasant came around. Niall wasted no time in polishing off his plate, despite the raised eyebrows around him. They could be dainty if they wished; he was hungry.
“Would the gentleman like more?” one of the servants asked, and Niall handed up his plate.
“Aye, the gentleman would.”
“You weren’t jesting about being hungry, were you?” Amelia-Rose asked from beside him.
“Since I arrived in London I’ve had one sandwich, some biscuits, a handful of fruit, one scrawny chicken leg, and this pheasant.”
“And you really do hunt your own deer and go hiking about on cliffs?”
He liberated a slice of roasted potato off her plate and popped it into his mouth while he waited for his second helping. “We all hunt; there’s a butcher’s shop at the village a mile down the loch, and a bakery, but we try to supply our own table. It’s a large household, Aldriss. What’s left over goes to the cotter widows and bairns.”
“Deer don’t generally graze on cliffs, though.”
Niall chuckled. “Nae. Birds nest there, though. A man tires of chicken eggs from time to time. And chicken.”
“What else do you do?”
“Do ye truly want a list of my chores? Most of them involve mud.”
She smiled. “Actually, I’m trying to find a way to inform you that my mother is determined Lord Glendarril will escort me to the Spenfield ball on Thursday. We’re to show well there together, after which my parents and your mother will be able to make our engagement known officially.”
Thursday. That would give them three more days to find Coll if Aden hadn’t already hunted him down. And three days to remind his brother that he’d lost the card cut more or less fairly, and that they all had a duty to see to the future of Aldriss Park. And for him to convince himself that Amelia-Rose was merely trouble where he was concerned, and trouble he didn’t need.
She might not be the timid wisp Coll had planned for, but she had a strong streak of logic, did Amelia-Rose. She might not disagree with being left behind in London, if Coll didn’t fall head over heels for her and hie with her back to Scotland. But the sooner Coll realized she was a good fit to be his viscountess, the better for all of them. Or so he would continue to tell himself until he believed it.
“I’ll see to it,” he said aloud, when he realized she likely expected a response of some sort.
“Amy, you already have one of them. Leave us the others,” Lady Margaret said loudly. It was evidently amusing, because half the lot of them giggled and snickered.
Amelia-Rose blushed. “Mr. MacTaggert escorted me here on his brother’s behalf. I have no wish to monopolize him, though. By all means, steal him away.”
Niall didn’t much like that, and he scowled. “Ye trying to be rid of me, lass?”
“I’m trying not to encourage gossip,” she retorted nearly soundlessly.
“Ah, the meek side. Cannae say I’m impressed with it,” he noted, rocking up onto his knees and making his way around her. “I’m all yers, lasses. Have at me.”
An afternoon of conversation with the other lasses did serve a purpose: It illustrated very clearly that he preferred escorting Amelia-Rose about to chatting with any one of these flighty things who’d realized he was marriageable. And he’d been telling her the truth: The meek side of her, the one Coll wanted, didn’t much interest him at all. The other side, the one she’d been trying so hard to stifle, near drove him mad. Until she decided which lass she wanted to be, he’d be much wiser to keep his damned distance.
Chapter Six
As the barouche turned up the Oswell House drive, a muffled bellow sounded from