Page 68 of The Last Debutante
“Jamie, I—”
“Will you introduce us to your guest, Laird?”
Daria knew the lilting brogue before she even looked. She turned around to see the beauty standing before her, interrupting her moment with Jamie. Isabella was smiling—or at least attempting to pretend that she was.
“Of course,” Jamie said. “Miss Daria Babcock, allow me to introduce Miss Isabella Brodie.”
“A pleasure,” Daria murmured, and dipped into another curtsy.
“No, the pleasure is mine, Miss Babcock.” Isabella extended her hand to Daria. To be kissed? Daria took it and gave it a small shake.
“I’ve heard quite a lot about you, aye?” Isabella continued pleasantly.
Daria’s gaze flew to Jamie, but Isabella laughed. “Not from the laird, Miss Babcock,” she said, as if that were preposterous. “From Robbie Campbell.”
She meant that she had asked Robbie about her. That’s what Daria would have done if the situation were reversed.
Isabella turned slightly and gestured to the three men with her. “May I introduce my father, Laird Brodie. My uncle, Seamus Brodie. And my cousin, Charles Brodie.”
Daria greeted each gentleman as if she were in a receiving line—a slight incline of her head, a remark about the pleasure of making their acquaintance. Young John appeared at her elbow, carrying a tray with filled wineglasses. Grateful for the wine, she turned to take one. But when she turned back, Jamie had moved a few feet away, in conversation with one of the men accompanying Isabella and some other men she hadn’t seen before. Isabella had shifted slightly, putting her back to Daria and herself between Jamie and Daria.
Daria sipped her wine, feeling so conspicuous standing there alone that she scarcely tasted it. A touch to her elbow almost sent her glass flying; she turned around to see Geordie.
“Geordie,” she said in a release of her breath. “What have I done now? I’ve scarcely stepped foot inside the room, so I don’t think I’ve had time to offend you.”
He wrote something on his slate and handed it to Daria.Look difernt.
“Me?” she asked, meeting the hazel eyes that were the twins of Jamie’s.
He nodded.
“I don’t know what you mean. I am the same as I have been for more than a fortnight.” She glanced up at him. “English.”
Geordie smiled. He rubbed the slate clean with his arm and wrote again.Bonny.
Daria blinked up at him; he gave her a charmingly subtle wink. She smiled. “Geordie Campbell, are you attempting to flirt with me?” she whispered.
Geordie responded with a smile.
Young John rang a bell and announced that supper was served. Jamie glanced back at Daria—a fleeting look—and then offered his arm to Isabella to begin the procession. Of course he would lead her in; she was an honored guest. But Daria’s heart sank nonetheless. She stood rooted as people began to file past her, following the Laird of Dundavie into the dining hall.
Remarkably, Geordie tucked his slate up under one arm and offered the other to her.
When Daria looked at him, he arched one brow, as if challenging her.
Daria put her hand on his arm. “I cannot say which of us has lost our mind, sir,” she said, smiling, “but I cannot thank you enough.”
They were the last to be seated, at the opposite end of the table from where Jamie sat with Isabella on his right. Daria told herself to look at Geordie. To remember that she would leave Dundavie very soon, and for God’s sake, whatever she did, to put this afternoon firmly out of her mind.
There was quite a lot of talking throughout the meal—all in Gaelic, of course, and Daria was surprised to realize she had begun to pick up a few words here and there. It had also ceased sounding harsh to her. Jamie tried to converse in English, but the Brodies refused it, responding only in Gaelic.
Halfway through the meal, Geordie slid his slate across to Daria.Donna lik er.
Daria studied it a moment, wondering if he was instructing her or informing her. She looked up at Geordie. He nodded in Isabella’s direction.
“What do you mean—you don’t care for her?” she whispered.
He nodded, then gestured for his slate. He wiped it off and wrote,evr.
