A Scot to the Heart (Desperately Seeking Duke #2) - Caroline Linden Page 0,34
to bite!” before she whirled away in the arms of her partner.
Sure enough, the captain led out Miss Clapperton. She was still speaking, and as Ilsa watched—half amused, half unreasonably annoyed—Captain St. James looked up, right over Miss Clapperton’s head and into her eyes.
His beleaguered expression faded. For a moment their gazes caught on each other, his so fierce with pleasure that Ilsa felt it in her soul. Then the scoundrel winked at her before turning back to the girl at his side and sweeping her into the dance.
Her heart was jolting in her chest. Little shocks of anticipation tingled along her nerves. She plied her fan so hard her earrings trembled. How could he do that to her from thirty feet away?
“Good evening, Mrs. Ramsay. Miss St. James.” Barely a breath separated the names, but by the time Ilsa recognized the man in front of them, Agnes had shot to her feet.
“Good evening, sir,” she said coolly, and stalked away.
Felix Duncan watched her go, his eyes shuttered.
Ilsa also rose. “Miss St. James was just saying how thirsty she is,” she said lightly. “She must be on her way to find some punch.”
Mr. Duncan accepted the lie with a knowing quirk of his brow. “I wouldn’t dream of interfering with Miss St. James’s desires. I hoped I might beg the honor of a dance, ma’am.”
“Of course.”
Ilsa took his arm and they joined the long line of the Scotch reel. She loved a rollicking dance and soon was skipping down the set with her usual abandon. Mr. Duncan caught her and swung her around with cheerful vigor, and Ilsa grew breathless from exertion and laughter. When it ended, he offered his arm and they began a slow, meandering turn around the crowded room.
“I understand St. James has proposed an outing to Perth.” Mr. Duncan glanced at her. “He said you suggested I be invited.”
She gave a low laugh. “Goodness, he wastes no time. Are you displeased by the prospect?”
He grinned back. “Very much the contrary. I am in your debt.”
“Then I admit I did suggest it. I thought the captain might want support troops if he were to be confined in one house with his sisters.”
Mr. Duncan laughed. “Aye, he might! Not that he wouldn’t deserve whatever torment they inflicted.”
“Do they torment people?” She smiled artlessly at his guilty flinch. “You must know all three are my dear friends.”
He hesitated. “I did know that.”
“There aren’t better young ladies in all of Scotland,” she added. Her vow had been to not interfere in Agnes’s affairs—but included nothing about stirring the pot a little.
“I agree,” he murmured.
Ilsa heaved a sigh. “I shall miss them so, when they have all moved house to England with the captain.”
Her companion stopped short. “England! The devil you say!”
Ilsa studied him closely. He hadn’t known. “Didn’t the captain tell you? He’s considering removing there, to be near his future . . . responsibilities. Winifred and Isabella are enthralled by the prospect of a Season in London, as well.”
All humor had leached from his face. “When?”
Ilsa looked at him in sympathy. “I don’t know. Perhaps you should ask him, as his dear friend.”
His brooding gaze skipped across the room. Near the windows, Agnes was in merry conversation with Sorcha White and two red-coated soldiers from the castle garrison. “Perhaps it doesn’t much matter,” he muttered.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she replied, watching her friend. Unless she missed her guess, Agnes was stealing peeks at them.
He must have suspected as much, too, for he inhaled deeply before turning a warm smile on her. “Only time will tell, aye? And as long as you don’t say you’re leaving Edinburgh, I shan’t mourn. St. James was gone for years and I never once missed a minute of sleep over it.”
Ilsa went along with it, arching her brows playfully. Let Agnes see someone else basking in his attention for a moment. “Is that right? Then perhaps you’ll ask me to dance again, Mr. Duncan.”
He swept a lavish bow. “I desire nothing else in life, madam.”
“Life is full of disappointments,” said a familiar voice beside her. “Go on, Duncan, inflict yourself on someone else.”
“I apologize for this rude scoundrel,” said Mr. Duncan, turning his back to Captain St. James. “Pay him no mind.”
“Let the lady decide.” The captain stepped around his friend and made a bow. “Good evening, Mrs. Ramsay.”
He was dazzling tonight, in a vivid blue coat and green plaid. His dark hair fell across his brow in a thick wave, and when