Page 22 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
Finlay raised his hands. “Knitting at home in the dark, while a monotone old vicar read from the Common Book of Prayers would be more diverting than an evening at Almack’s.”
“Soyousay.” Her tone could cut through iron. “As a viscount and heir to an earldom, who’s grown up in the bosom of thetonwith a silver spoon in his mouth, an evening at Almack’s would be a bore.” She jerked her head to Polly. “But for a girl from Derbyshire, an evening at Almack’s would be the closest she’d ever get to being a real lady.”
He watched in alarm as five pairs of feminine eyes glazed over and went positively dreamy. Obviously the gossip rags told an exaggerated tale of an evening at Almack’s.
Still, Finlay knew nothing of the lives they’d lived before finding themselves at Little Windmill House. The very fact they were there spoke of loss. If a night dancing at Almack’s brightened their faces, he would say nothing else to dim their misguided and misplaced excitement.
And yet, he noticed that tight lines fanned out from around Charlotte’s mouth. He guessed she wasn’t swayed by fairy tales. Age and the harsh realities of life made it painfully obvious how ridiculous such things could be.
Remorse pressed on his chest as he wondered what lesson had taught Charlotte fairy tales were make-believe.
“I’m convinced your dance card would be full within ten minutes of stepping through the hallowed doors of Almack’s, Miss Polly.” He raised his brows. “I just hope you would do me the honor of saving me a dance.”
He glanced up at her through his lashes, in a look he knew made women swoon. He was rewarded with her enthusiastic nod. Charlotte rolled her eyes, but her lips curled up ever so slightly. He fought back a grin.
“Would you dance with me, too, Lord Firthwell?” Meg’s small voice shocked him from his obsession with Charlotte’s luscious mouth.
Blinking, he nodded. “Of course.” He allowed his gaze to lock with each set of eyes at the table as he said, “It would be my very great honor if I had the opportunity to dance with each of you. Every bachelor in London would be jealous of my good fortune.”
When he turned to Charlotte, he wasn’t surprised to find her regarding him as if he were a strange creature she’d discovered on her travels. But she was no longer frowning, so he counted her consideration a victory, albeit small.
Finlay turned his attention to the girl sitting next to Polly. “Miss Agnes, do tell us how you’d spend your day.”
“I’d want to return to Dumfriesshire,” she said without hesitation.
“Is that where you’re from?”
She nodded, her face pale. Her lip quivered.
He felt a moment of panic. He was unsure of how to proceed, sensing the sprite was battling a siege of emotions. Suddenly, he thought of Alethea and heard himself say, “My mother was from Aberdeenshire. I’ve long thought it one of the lovelie—or rather, one of the bonniest places I’ve ever seen.”
Agnes glanced up, her brown eyes crinkling at his sudden correction.
Encouraged, Finlay continued. “And how would you fill your day if you were able to return to Dumfriesshire?”
Leaning forward in her seat, Agnes’s faced glowed. “I’d eat bannocks and eggs with my cousin, Ronan, before we raced our ponies to the loch. We’d skip rocks over the water before it became too hot. Then we’d swim.”
“I approve heartily of this plan.” Finlay nodded his head stoutly. “As long as the bannocks didn’t contain raisins.”
Agnes pressed her hand to her cheek, her mouth gaping. “But those are the best kind.”
Finlay looked down his nose at her. “I suppose since it’s your day, you can have raisins if you want.” Then, he feigned a shudder.
Agnes giggled, cutting it off by placing a hand against her mouth. After a moment, she grabbed the end of her braid and looked toward the window. “Then we’d eat at Ronan’s cottage before we’d stretch blankets out on the grass and watch the Mirrie Dancers.”
“I’ve never seen the Northern Lights, but my sister has.” He inclined his head. “I wasn’t aware they could be seen in the Lowlands.”
Agnes scoffed, her pert nose wrinkling. “Not all the time, but more so than not.”
He winked. “And seeing how it’s your special day, they had better choose that day to dance.”
She smiled shyly, although it seemed strained.
“Do you know where Ronan’s at now, dear?”Charlotte’s voice was low and soothing.
Color bled from the girl’s face.“He died of the fever before my parents did.”
Taking a punch to the face from Featherington would have shocked him less. Agnes was so young to have lost so much.
