He put down the ice he’d just picked up. Perhaps it was best not to leave it be for now. He’d had a sudden image of all the swooning mamas if their daughters suddenly appeared to be nude at Almack’s. But that wasn’t the point here. “I think a rose-colored shawl would make a nice contrast to the…unusual…color.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “When did you take such an interest in fashion?”
“I…I—”
“You do not like it!” She swallowed the spoonful of ice she’d just scooped up. “What is wrong with it?”
“Nothing.”Everything. She’d give him a well-deserved slap if he said the color made him think of her lying beneath him in bed, utterly naked. Her tongue darted out to lick ice off her lip and the urge to kiss her senseless right there and now was overpowering. Another action that would bring him a sharp slap. But he couldn’t resist leaning over and wiping a bit of ice that remained at the corner of her mouth with his fingertip. Her eyes widened and he felt, rather than heard, her sharp intake of breath. He contemplated brushing his finger along her lower lip…
“It’s not like the colors they wear in Covent Garden, you know.”
He blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in. He leaned back. “What do ye ken of Covent Garden, lass?”
“I…nothing.”
She looked away quickly and he knew she wasn’t telling the truth. “How do ye ken about the colors?” he asked again.
She shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. “Madame Dubois…mentioned most courtesans like the bright colors.”
It was plausible, he supposed, that the modiste might have mentioned it, but not probable. A dressmaker wouldn’t brag about outfitting the girls who worked in those houses nor would most of those women spend their money on custom-designed gowns. He scrutinized Lorelei, since she wasn’t looking at him, and a thought struck him with the force of a horse’s hoof.
“Have ye—and my sister—beento Covent Garden?” It would be just like Fiona to encourage that kind of thing.
She didn’t answer.
“Ye went there, didna ye? By Saint Bridgid’s cross! Do ye nae ken how dangerous—”
“We went during the day!”
He stared at her, trying to control his reaction.What in hell had possessed them to do that?And those shopping trips…
“Where else have ye gone off to?”
Her head jerked up then and she glared at him. “Nowhere that was not safe.” She lifted a shoulder. “Besides, Fiona carries a knife, you know.”
He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. While that was true—and his sister was very good with one—it still wouldn’t protect the two of them from being assaulted.
“I ken that, but ye doona realize how much danger ye put yourselves in if ye venture off. Ye willna do it again.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You cannot tell me—”
“We are back!” Louisa proclaimed it a little too loudly, and he wondered how much she’d heard. Luckily, Fiona was ordering an ice at the counter or he probably would have gotten his ears boxed.
The conversation had certainly taken a turn for the worse and he hadn’t even accomplished what he’d intended, which was to find out what Westwood’s intentions were.
And now he’d lost the opportunity and, from the way Lorelei’s eyes were flashing fire, it was just as well. If anything, he’d probably drive her right to Westwood if he even brought the subject up.
He sighed, wondering if perhaps the Fae were meddling again.
…
The first thing Alasdair noticed after Belton had admitted him on Friday afternoon was a huge vase of roses on the low table in front of the parlor sofa. It would have attracted attention even if it hadn’t been in the center of the room because the bouquet was massive and included roses of various colors: pink, white, yellow, and several shades of coral.
Whose were they? Or, more importantly, who had sent them?
He frowned at the flowers as he took a seat as far away from the display as he could. Fiona had sent him a note that she and Lorelei would be home this afternoon if he cared to call. Had she sent the missive because she wanted him toseethe roses that some swain had sent?
It would be just like Gavin Campbell to do something like this. None of the roses were red so it wasn’t a declaration of a specific intent to court, but it could be his way of niggling at Alasdair. Letting him know there was a possibility of attending his sister. Maybe trying to keep him off-balance enough so he couldn’t concentrate on the massive pile of land titles.
