Page 10 of A Bonny Pretender
“You can’t say words like that in mixed company!” Evelina gasped.
“Isn’t that what we’re practicing?”
“In a sense, but… you’ll be considered a hussy.”
The English were full of contradictions. Brigid understood what Evie wanted to teach her. She’d watched the other girls at the various dinners, dances, and events. As a child, she had been able to mimic others easily. This would be no different if she had to prove herself. But why put forth the effort only to lure some poor oaf into a dance? Worse, what if one of them wanted to court her? Brigid wasn’t mean-spirited. On the one hand, she didn’t want to add trifling with a hopeful dandy to her list of learned accomplishments. On the other, there had not been one man so far that had inspired her to attempt it.
“Perhaps I’ll just become the mute Scot. That would solve our problems.” She crossed her arms and scowled at an approaching rider.
Her friends laughed. And laughed. Evie dabbed at her eyes with a gloved finger. “Oh my, that was funny. You, quiet?” She hiccupped. “Now look what you’ve done.” Another fit of giggles.
A gentleman reined in his horse next to them, and Mr. Wilkens pulled the carriage to a stop. “Frank, it’s good to see you again,” he called and put out his hand. The stranger bent and gripped Mr. Wilkens’ hand, then took off his hat and tipped it at the ladies.
“This is Lord Raines, one of my oldest friends from Eton,” he told the girls. “You remember my cousin, Lady Brecken? This is Miss MacNaughton, visiting us from Scotland.”
“It’s a pleasure,” he said in a deep timbre that warmed her like a crackling fire on a winter’s night. “My congratulations on your marriage.”
Brigid turned to look at the newcomer. He was tall and lean, but not thin. A square jaw set above broad shoulders. His blond hair gleamed, and his clear gray eyes locked with hers. Heat spread over her face as he smiled and nodded at her. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t break his gaze, couldn’t speak.
She was lost in those orbs of molten steel.
