Page 63 of Dancing with an Enigmatic Duke
“But if you want flowers in vases, then you should put flowers in vases,” Nash said.
Lady Callum laughed. “And I more than likely shall, but I still like to get feedback. Are you going to be this impossible to live with?”
Nash started to retort but caught himself just before he said something that might give away that they both knew they would not be living together. He bit down on his comment and took a sip of tea. At length he said, “I do not think getting married will change me as much as you might be hoping, Lady Callum.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Callum chided. “I think you are a fine man as you are. True, we all have room to grow, but I see no reason to think you should do so more than others.”
Nash regarded the honey-haired woman with a slight smile. Her statement had come fairly close to a compliment and the woman rarely paid those to him outside of light-hearted banter. He supposed the words were mostly for her brother, but he still liked that she had said them.
His eyes were drawn to the sun streaking down from between fluffy clouds outside the large windows of the conservatory. “It really is a beautiful day. I cannot recall seeing a better one since I came to London,” Lady Callum breathed.
Nash glanced over at her. “With as much as it rains here in London, I am not at all surprised that you have not seen such a rare day. Are there many days like this in Scotland?”
“It rains quite often in Scotland too, but it feels different. Here it feels sad, somehow.” Lady Callum’s soft accent came through her words as she spoke of her home. There were times that Nash almost forgot the accent, so accustomed was he to the way she spoke that it was only at times when her accent grew thicker that he really noticed it.
Harcourt nodded. “It really does. I remember as a boy playing on the beach on an overcast day, the wind and sea spray coating me. Still felt better down by that sea than it does on a London street in a downpour.”
“I would not know,” Nash said, setting his teacup back down on the tray.
Lady Callum squinted at Harcourt. “I was beginning to wonder if you remembered anything of your time in Scotland.”
“I remember quite a lot, but I have more memories of England.” Harcourt gave a light-hearted shrug. “I do occasionally miss things from my childhood, but my duties keep me in London.”
Nash looked at Lady Callum. She missed her home. He wondered if she would find a nobleman willing to take on the idea of a property in Scotland, let alone a man willing to move to the northern coast castle that the woman clearly intended to return to.
“I write letters to the lady’s maid I had to leave in Scotland. She keeps me apprised of all the happenings back home.” Lady Callum seemed to be talking to her brother.
Harcourt shook his finger at Lady Callum. “I recall you riding to London without a lady’s maid.”
“There was no point in putting you out so that I could have a maid for the ride.” Lady Callum waved her hand at her brother as her eyes went to Nash as if for support. “Do you think it would have been a wise use of resources, Your Grace?”
Nash hesitated. “I have no sisters, but my mother never goes anywhere without a lady’s maid. It is apparently impossible to get dresses on and off without one.”
“That is true, it was a bit of a feat,” Lady Callum admitted with a smile that she did not bother to try and hide. “However, I survived just fine.”
Harcourt scoffed. “Your hair was a disaster when you arrived.”
“It was not.” Lady Callum glared at her brother for his preposterous claim. “Why must you insist on making everything such a fuss?”
Harcourt slapped his leg. “I swear, I just heard Father roll over in his grave.” He looked at Nash. “She literally used to raise a fuss about every tiny thing. She once even threw a fit about how many seeds a cake had on it.”
“That is a grotesque lie,” Lady Callum challenged. “I did not care about the amount of seeds, merely what kind of seeds they were. I had a reaction earlier in that season to some seeds that looked similar.”
Nash chuckled. “I think you two could pass for being related.”
“Funny,” Harcourt intoned.
***
On the night of the party, Lord Hawley put on a brand-new tailored suit. As much as his man had assured him he looked fit enough to steal any lass, Edward was only interested in one lady’s heart. He had a lump in his throat that he was sure all could see as he exited his carriage.
Pentworth Estate, thought Edward. He had never been to this place before but he had dreamed about it. He had dreamed of sweeping in and taking Lady Callum for his own lady. He walked up the steps, remembering at the last moment to bow his head to a passing cluster of ladies he vaguely recognised.
Inside, the house had been decorated with roses and lilies. The air was heavy with the fragrance of the flowers mingled with the powders that the ladies dabbed themselves in with such abundance that Edward wondered what they looked like without all of that pigment. He preferred the natural beauty standard of the day.
And there was a shining example of natural beauty, he thought wryly as Lady Callum came into view greeting guests. He moved along with the crowd until he came alongside her and her brother.
“Lord Pentworth,” Edward said cheerily, grasping the man’s hand in a firm shake. “Pleasure to see you tonight.” He turned his gaze on Lady Callum and had to remind himself to breathe. She looked ethereal. “Lady Callum,” Edward breathed in awe. “You look breath-taking.”
