A Scot to the Heart (Desperately Seeking Duke #2) - Caroline Linden Page 0,33

and frequently drawing her brother’s attention with a hand on his arm.

Ilsa settled herself on a chair with a good view of the proceedings. There was no harm in that, she told herself, nor in taking some enjoyment from the baffled expression on the captain’s face as his sisters nudged him into marriage. She had no right to expect any other pleasures concerning him.

“You look pleased with yourself tonight,” said a familiar but unwelcome voice behind her.

And just like that, her good mood curdled. Ilsa resisted the urge to get up and walk away. “I was,” she said evenly, “until you appeared.”

Impervious, Liam Hewitt plopped into the chair next to her, folding his arms across his chest. He worked in her father’s shop, Papa’s most trusted wright, but Ilsa found him deeply annoying.

There were many reasons why. He was smug. He was arrogant. He had a braying laugh. He was handsome and clever, but not nearly as handsome or clever as he thought himself. And for some bizarre and horrible yet unknown reason, he regularly inflicted himself upon Ilsa like a bad rash.

“I beg your pardon, sir, that seat is spoken for,” she said.

Liam smirked. “No, it isn’t. You just sat down—alone, as usual.” He bumped her shoulder with his, causing Ilsa to frown at him and turn away. “Old Fletcher is trying to get you wed again, ain’t he?” He shook his head with a tsk. “That’s a fool’s errand. Who’s the victim?”

She opened her fan and kept her expression serene. Liam would only get worse if she gave any sign of distress or anger. “I will be sure to tell Papa you think him foolish.”

He barked with laughter. “Will you! I’ll tell him to his face. You’re bitter medicine to force upon any man. He ought to spare himself the trouble.”

“By all means.” She gestured with her fan. “Go now. He is over there.”

Liam squinted across the room, toward where her father was flirting with Mrs. Lowrie, a handsome widow half his age. “Not while he’s at pleasure. I could hardly deny the man some sport, could I?”

“No, by all means insult his daughter instead,” she said coolly. “He will be so grateful to you.”

He scowled. “You’re as tart as a lemon, ain’t you?”

“More like hemlock.” She smiled slyly at him. “Best keep your distance, Liam.”

With a muttered oath he flung himself off the chair and into the crowd. Ilsa smoothed her skirts and tried not to give Liam the pleasure of ruining her evening. She was sure he disliked her as much as she disliked him, and her life would be vastly improved if he would have the courtesy to leave her be.

“How you put up with that man I shall never know,” whispered Agnes St. James, sliding into the seat as soon as Liam had disappeared. “What an oily little toad!”

Ilsa hummed in agreement. “He thinks himself more important than he is, which is never good for a man to think.”

Agnes glanced at her. “How can your father be so fond of him, when he’s so spiteful toward you?”

Ilsa shrugged. It was true, and she had no idea why. Papa called Liam his right-hand man, one of the most talented cabinet-makers in Scotland. Every time Ilsa said a word against Liam, Papa brushed it off and defended Liam. She had little choice but to put up with the annoying man.

She flicked away a bit of dirt from her glove, tired of discussing him. “Tell me something more intriguing. How goes Winnie and Bella’s plan to find your brother a rich bride?”

Finally a grin split her friend’s face. “Oh, splendidly. They’ve made him dance with Catriona Hill and Lady Erskine already, and now they’ve thrown him into Flora Clapperton’s clutches.” Agnes peered down the room, where Flora was still chattering away at the captain. “Drew will ask her to dance simply for peace and quiet.”

Ilsa laughed. “He’s very good-natured, then.”

“About Flora? Yes.” Agnes hesitated. “I think he might have liked Catriona, though.”

Ilsa kept smiling even as her stomach tightened. Catriona Hill was statuesque, witty, and intelligent. She and the captain would make a handsome pair. “If your sisters cannot have their Seasons in London, they could open a matchmaking service.”

Agnes laughed as Bella dashed up. There was a handsome young man on her heels, his cheeks flushed with drink or from dancing. Bella paused long enough to lean close to the two of them and whisper, “The hook is baited! Let’s see how long it takes him