Page 47 of A Scot's Pride
When Bryson handed her a handkerchief, Freya wiped at the water gathering in her eyes. She pressed it to her wet eyes, inhaling his scent permeating the fabric.
“I was merely surprised,” she said with a laugh, handing him back his handkerchief. “As if it happens, I am no longer in his purview, and he’s asked my sister Molly instead.”
She glanced to where the two of them were sitting in a corner. Cousin Arthur was in deep conversation with the air around Molly. Her sister nodded and didn’t offer up a single bit of conversation of her own. She also did not seem bothered. Molly looked more content than Freya had ever seen her before.
“Ah. Well, then, I wish them the best.” He handed her back her punch. “And this means ye are still…free?”
Freya’s hands shook a little as she retrieved her cup from his grasp. “I am.”
Bryson opened his mouth to say something else, but Leila approached with Campbell.
“Lord Lovat,” the younger man said. “I didna realize ye were in town.”
“Campbell.” Bryson didn’t offer any other pleasantries.
“Campbell was telling me that the two of you served together during the war,” Leila said, her girlish, bubbly voice making it sound as if the two men had spent time in a ballroom rather than a battlefield.
“Indeed, we did.” The side of Bryson’s jaw muscle was repeatedly flexing in a way that had Freya filling up with questions. His dislike of Campbell was palpable.
The other man took notice, shifting on his feet. “Leila, how about another dance?”
Freya sulked at the easy way he said her sister’s name and then again at her sister’s squeal as she leapt into the air and squeezed his arm, dragging him back toward the dance floor.
“You don’t like him at all,” Freya stated when the two had returned to dancing.
“No’ at all.” Bryson glanced toward her. “And if ye knew him as I did, ye wouldna either.”
Freya nodded because there was something off about him, even in the small interaction she’d had now with Campbell. Made her feel worried. “I’ll speak to Leila about him later. Warn her off.”
“That would be best for her and your family.” Bryson’s mood had darkened so much she wasn’t sure they’d be able to recover, which made her sad, given she’d been avoiding him for a week and had finally decided to stop sabotaging herself. Before Campbell, they’d been having a good time.
“I could use some fresh air. What about you?” she asked, hoping to salvage some of their earlier connection.
“I thought ye’d never ask.” Bryson gave their cups to a passing footman and held out his arm for her.
Once she wrapped her arm through his, there was no going back this time, and Freya was ready to jump into whatever was happening between them with both feet.
17
The Ladies’ Marriage Prospects Bulletin
Captain Euan Irvine of Scotland: due to inherit the title Baron of Drum. Castle in Scotland. House in Edinburgh. House in Mayfair. 10,000 per annum.
Freya avoided eye contact with everyone she walked by as she meandered toward the rear doors of the dance hall that led out to a patio. It was a difficult feat, considering that heads swiveled as she passed. She wasn’t sure what they could be looking at, but it felt as if she’d spilled punch down the front of her dress. Or maybe they could see Bryson behind her and were waiting to see what kind of shocking things they could whisper behind her back.
The brass doorknob was cool as she swiveled it and pushed the door open. The dance hall was mostly surrounded by countryside—different from the house parties they attended, where there were private gardens to meander. Beyond the edge of the patio were dark, grassy knolls and then the road.
There were no torches outside to light the patio, probably to discourage anyone from staying too long though the lack of light was more likely to create a scandal since it was also more enticing for assignations. Light from the candles within helped to make it not too dark but not enough to see much in front of one’s steps. Only a few other people were outside, their figures draped in shadow.
Bryson led her over to a corner that was not occupied, where there was a small table for two. But if they sat there for too long people would become curious, and she didn’t want any of their interactions to be spied on. Not that she planned on doing anything scandalous, but it was private and no one else’s business. Sauntering out here had been enough to turn heads.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather walk around,” she said, glancing back toward the dance hall, where there seemed to be more people milling about the windows than before.
“Of course.” Bryson held out his elbow, and she easily slipped her hand through as they roamed off the stone patio onto the soft grass.
Through his jacket, she felt the strength of his arm. Firm and muscled, she wondered what his arm would look like. She knew what her arms looked like. Much smaller and less formed. And of course, she’d seen other male’s arms when their sleeves were rolled up, but there was something far more interesting in imagining Bryson’s arm for some reason. A reason she didn’t want to ponder. The differences between them were marvelous, and she felt slightly wicked for wanting to examine him more thoroughly. She wondered if husbands and wives ever undressed in front of each other. Her cheeks heated at the thought. Of course, she had no idea and couldn’t imagine—didn’t want to imagine— her parents doing anything other than being properly dressed.
Oh boy. She needed to think of something else quickly. “How is Lucy? Did she not want to come tonight?”
