Page 38 of A Scot's Pride
14
The Ladies’ Marriage Prospects Bulletin
A lady must always know her place in society and within the household. Remember, husbands don’t want a wife with an opinion or one who is overly loud or educated. Being docile and obedient is the best way to win your perfect match.
From where Bryson was sitting, he had a perfect view of Freya Grysham.
Prim and proper in her light yellow dress, her back straight while she nibbled on the snacks her mother had silently told her not to eat. That was a fascinating interaction to watch. And she’d won. If one were to glance at her and take the measure of her from the outside, one would see a suitable lady. But Bryson knew what lay beneath the surface of prim and proper.
Freya was all fire.
And the more Bryson thought about her, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was preposterous. And he was hooked.
It had been rash for Bryson to hop on his horse and ride over in person with an invitation to tea for the Grysham ladies. But it seemed as if his better sense of judgment had been tossed aside ever since he’d been introduced to Freya. And in place of the old him stood someone he didn’t recognize or could control.
Perhaps it was an improved version of himself. He hadn’t quite determined that yet, but he recognized that he felt immeasurably better—was that the word—when he was around her. Madness, he knew, but there was something about her.
Aunt Simone was being her usual grumpy self and taking it out on the Grysham family. Riley didn’t seem to notice as she was in a full cloud of love with Ashbury, and the younger set was enjoying Lucy, which made Bryson happy. The only two truly suffering were Freya and her mother, the latter of whom could take a little humbling, though it wasn’t kind of him to think it. But after he’d witnessed the silent bullying of Freya, well, he thought he was entitled to an opinion.
Freya, however, did not deserve the dressing down she was getting in measured snippets from Aunt Simone. The old bat seemed to think she had something to prove. What, he had no idea. Perhaps she was of better bloodstock? Hard to say what exactly they were thinking when it came to women. And really, he didn’t care. He just wanted it to stop.
Bryson stood and bowed to his father’s sisters. “If ye wouldna mind, my ladies, I would like to show Aunt Simone’s delightful gardens to Miss Freya.”
Aunt Simone pursed her lips, perhaps taking her time to come up with something waspish to say, but Aunt Bertie nodded vigorously, a little twinkle in her eyes. She liked the idea of him going off with Freya. He felt he was playing right into her hands, but he wasn’t sure how that had come about when Freya wasn’t on the eligible brides’ list.
A sudden and quite devious thought occurred to Bryson at that moment. Had Aunt Bertie not put Freya on the list because she hoped to tempt him with the lass outright? For him to decide on his own? Had the list been merely a distraction? Bryson squinted at his aunt as if taking her measure would give him the answers, but she only smiled wider.
Interesting and clever.
“Would ye care to see the gardens?” he asked Freya.
She set down her unfinished plate and wiped her mouth delicately at the corners. “I would.”
Bryson held his hand out to her, and she easily slipped hers into his, a marked difference from a few days ago when she’d stared at him as if he might burst into flames. When she stood, he glanced down at her, subtly inhaling the scent of vanilla and flowers that followed her.
They walked outside. The air was fresh, and the sun peeked through the clouds.
“Thank you,” she said softly as the glass doors closed behind them.
“For what?”
Freya laughed. The sound was like a caress he couldn’t get enough of. “You’ll think me rude, but I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”
Bryson chuckled as he led her down the patio stairs and onto the graveled path that took them through a maze of a rainbow of flowers and well-placed bushes. The fragrant night air was almost as pleasant as Freya’s scent. “I dinna think ye rude at all. Aunt Simone was sucking all the air from the room.”
“I can’t say that I disagree,” Freya said with a tight laugh. “Tea plus the carriage ride to this lovely estate has left me quite in need of air. I’m not looking forward to climbing back into the carriage for the ride home, to be perfectly honest.”
Bryson couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. “Would ye prefer to ride back rather than sit in the carriage?”
Freya glanced up at him sharply. “On horseback?”
“Aye.” He grinned, then raised a brow. “Unless ye’ve forgotten how to ride?”
“Oh, I have not. But I don’t have a horse here. I’d be fine walking, even if it took me the rest of the day.” To this last part, she let out a little chuckle. “Mother would have a fit.”
“Perhaps there is a way to accomplish what ye want without your mother’s ire?”
She pursed her lips at him. “Such as?”
