“We have crossed paths at various gatherings,” Miss Gray replied. “He is a man of agreeable company.”
A voice interrupted, smooth and unmistakably confident. “Miss Gray, spreading your charm as ever.”
They turned to find Lord Cedric Blackwood bowing with polished ease.
Miss Gray greeted with a polite nod. “Lord Blackwood, may I introduce Lady Bridget McConnell?”
Blackwood inclined his head with a charming smile. “A pleasure, Lady Bridget. Lady Alastair mentioned your recent arrival from Scotland.”
Bridget’s gaze lingered on him for a moment. His smile was practiced. His manner was smooth, altogether too smooth. Her wariness was stirred, not by fear, but from instinct, honed by too many encounters with English charm that hid something less honorable.
Bridget studied him briefly before responding. She had met enough men like him to recognize the easy charm for what it was, a mask worn smooth with use. Still, she returned the courtesy with a slight nod. “Yes. I find Sommer-by-the-Sea possesses its own charm.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “Though I confess, nothing quite compares to the rugged beauty of the Highlands.”
Bridget’s interest piqued. It was rare for an Englishman to speak of Scotland with more than a passing remark about the unpredictable weather or wild landscape. Her gaze sharpened slightly. “You are familiar with Scotland?”
A flicker of something unreadable crossed his expression before he answered. “My family has ancestral ties to the region,” he explained. “Though circumstances have kept me away for some time.”
There was a careful neutrality in his words, a vagueness that pricked at Bridget’s instincts. Men who spoke fondly of Scotland usually did so with passion or nostalgia, but Blackwood’s tone carried neither.
“It’s refreshing to meet someone who shares an appreciation for my homeland,” she said warmly, though she kept her curiosity close. “Few speak of it with such awareness.”
Blackwood’s smile held, but there was the slightest pause before he replied. “One never truly forgets the land that shaped them.”
With amusement, Miss Gray gave a knowing smile and stepped back. “I shall leave you both to discuss the merits of the north. If you will excuse me.”
Bridget barely registered her departure. Alone with Lord Blackwood, her wariness sharpened. It was instinct, honed by years of watching charm wielded like a polished blade. He was articulate, refined, and just ambiguous enough to stir the caution her father warned her never to ignore.
Something about his words lingered, like a thread left dangling. She had spent her life learning to hear what was left unsaid. And Lord Blackwood, for all his elegance, was choosing his words with care.
Careful men often had something to hide.
“Miss Gray is a delightful companion,” Blackwood observed.
“Yes, she is.”
Blackwood’s gaze was thoughtful. “Tell me, Lady Bridget, what do you miss most about Scotland? Aside from your family, of course.”
She considered his question for a moment. “The vast landscapes, the sense of freedom. There is a spirit in the air that one does not find elsewhere.”
He nodded appreciatively. “Very true. The heather-covered hills and the mist over the lochs hold a certain magic.”
Bridget smiled softly. “You speak as one who knows them well.”
“I have spent sufficient time there to understand their allure,” he replied.
“Do you plan to return soon?” she asked.
He gave a slight shrug. “Duty often dictates one’s movements. But I hope to revisit when the opportunity allows.”
Before Bridget could respond, the butler’s voice carried across the room. “Lord Barrington and Captain Thomas Grenville.”
Her gaze swept toward the entrance at Mr. Simmon’s announcement. Of course it washim, the infuriating Englishman who had not only pulled her carriage from the mud but also managed to wedge himself stubbornly into her thoughts. Tall and composed, he surveyed the room with the ease of a man accustomed to command.
Lord Barrington stood next to him, poised yet undeniably imposing. Candlelight played upon his sharp features, casting shadows that accentuated the strong line of his jaw.
Her eyes met the captain’s, and for a fleeting moment, something unspoken crackled between them, a flicker of annoyance, she assured herself.
