Page 9 of A Scot's Pride
“I think I felt a drop of rain,” Miss Grysham said, delicately unlinking her arm with Ashbury’s. “Freya, would you accompany me inside?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you for the walk, Lord Ashbury,” Miss Grysham said without making eye contact.
“It was my pleasure,” Ashbury said, his voice so soft it might have been butter in the sun melting down his chin.
Bryson looked up toward the sky, not a cloud in sight, and he’d certainly not felt any rain. Was this some sort of female code? Not that he was at all interested in decoding the female language.
When the ladies had walked off, he turned to his friend. “What are ye doing tomorrow mid-morning?”
“Besides my usual duties to the title? Nothing.”
Bryson clapped his friend on the shoulder. “We’re taking the two Miss Gryshams for a ride in Hyde Park.”
Ashbury couldn’t hide his smile. It crinkled his eyes and mouth, and he stared in the direction the ladies had disappeared. “Ah, then I am free to do that. I will clear my schedule.”
Bryson nodded. “She seems shy, Miss Grysham.”
Ashbury agreed. “And sweet as dew on the flowers in the morning.”
If Ashbury were female, he’d be picking at the petals of the nearest flower counting off “love me” and “love me nots.”
“Are you considering becoming a poet, mate?” Bryson teased.
Ashbury laughed. “I can’t help it. Love makes me want to recite poetry.”
Bryson rolled his eyes. Lord help him if he ever became that sappy.
4
The Ladies’ Marriage Prospects Bulletin
There are approximately twenty-three ladies vying for sixteen of the most eligible bachelors this season.
“Darling girl, would you come to my study?”
Freya peeked up at her father, who stood in the doorway of the breakfast room. His features were tired seeming, his skin sagging against his cheeks, and dark circles beneath his eyes. The only thing that looked put together about him was his clothes, probably because her mother would lose her mind if any of them showed out of place should a caller come unannounced. They’d all long ago had it drilled into them that they must be ready for a visitor at all times.
At one point, the lectures had been so frequent that little Grace and Leila had been going to bed in their Sunday best.
“Of course, Papa.”
“When you’re finished is fine,” he said, nodding toward her half-eaten toast.
Freya had only taken a bite of her breakfast, the toast tasting like dust despite the butter and strawberry jam she’d spread liberally. She blamed her nerves on the guests descending upon them soon. Well, only one guest in particular.
Bryson Fraser, Lord Lovat.
“I’m not that hungry. Besides, it’s already gone cold.” She gave a short laugh, for it was true. She’d spent so long staring at it that it no longer held any appeal.
She glanced at the wall clock, seeing the second hand move as if it were taunting her about the imminent arrival. Lord Lovat would knock on the door of their house, and she and Riley were going to have to go out on horseback in Hyde Park with him, and there was no way to get out of it now. And she’d have to ride like a lady, prim and proper, and not at all how she enjoyed.
But she would do it for her sister. That was what she had to remind herself. This was all for Riley, so she could finally be courted by the man she’d loved for over a year. And a small part of her had to admit it was possible because of Lord Lovat.
Freya followed her father into his study, where he shut the door and melted into his chair rather than sitting. She wished there were something she could do to lighten his load.
“I do hate to bring this up and wish it was something that never had to be said,” her father began as soon as she’d taken a seat opposite him.
