Page 17 of The Scot's Perfect Match
A lady must never arrange flowers too boldly; blossoms, like virtues, should be displayed with modest restraint. Do not place more than one kind of flower in a vase, for too much variety betrays a restless nature.
Lady Ava was more than a little bit excited about having a new friend come over this afternoon for tea. She had pulled out all the stops, gorgeous flowers arranged in cut-crystal vases, fresh tea steeped to perfection, a mountain of sugar in the silver bowl, and the freshest cream delivered that morning from the farm. Even Cook had outdone herself with delicate cucumber sandwiches, spiced shortbread, and lemon cakes dusted with sugar so fine it looked like the first frost of winter.
The drawing room was warm with sunlight spilling in from the tall windows, glinting off the gilt trim of the chairs and catching in the soft folds of the pale blue drapes. The scent of roses and lilies filled the air. Ava had chosen this room deliberately to give her guest a sense of warmth and ease.
When Moira arrived, she was escorted in by a footman, her steps light and purposeful. She wore a gown of soft green with cream accents, her bonnet perched at just the right angle, her curls shining in the afternoon light. She had a happy smile and a glow about her, brought on no doubt by a successful ball, or a charming suitor perhaps.
“Moira, darling, I’m so glad that ye were able to join me.” Ava rose gracefully, smoothing the folds of her pale lavender day dress as she crossed the room to greet her guest. “Ye look absolutely lovely this morning. Anything, or anyone, in particular being the reason why?” Her tone was teasing, but she leaned in slightly, hopeful.
Ava was half hoping that Lachlan had been so taken with Moira the night before that he had already paid a visit. That would be a promising sign.
“The freshest flowers arrived this morning,” Moira said, pressing her hands to her heart with girlish delight. “Ye would no’ believe it, bouquet after bouquet. I have four different beaux from the ball calling on me this week!”
Ava blinked in actual shock. “Four?”
“My cousin is almost apoplectic.” Moira giggled, looking equal parts pleased and scandalized.
Ava, too, felt, unmoored. One was all they needed.
For a gentleman who was usually so steady, Gavan’s reaction didn’t surprise Ava. But she didn’t like the thought of him fussing, especially if it meant he’d try to interfere. This was going to put a dent into her plans, and she’d have to move forward more quickly if she was going to make sure the match with Lachlan happened.
She would also need to put some space between Moira and the other three suitors. If Lachlan was going to stand out as the clear choice, then the competition needed to fade into the background, preferably without Moira even noticing it was happening. Perhaps she could nudge the others toward different prospects, steer them toward more fitting partners. Three additional matches. Her lips twitched at the thought. My goodness, her little hobby had practically just become a career. At this rate, perhaps she should consider charging fees. What a tidy sum of pin money that would be.
“I dinna know two of them, I never met them, they just said they saw me last night,” Moira continued, “but there was another gentleman, Mr. McRae, and he was such a delight to dance with. I dinna think anything of it until I got his flowers. To be quite honest, I thought he was bored. Or maybe just a little shy.”
Ava mused, tapping her finger against her teacup. “Ah aye, Mr. McRae is quite handsome. A scholar. Comes from a good family who has a farm nearby.” She tilted her head, pretending to weigh the gentleman as a suitor. “He could be promising. But…” She leaned in and gave Moira a secretive smile. “I think we both know who truly dazzled ye.”
Moira’s blush was exactly the answer Ava was looking for. Thank goodness.
“Well, we must certainly plan a party,” Ava declared. “I think a garden party would be perfect, do ye no’? Something lively but intimate. We can invite everyone, your admirers, the other young people in the area, and of course…” She trailed off deliberately, letting Moira fill the space.
“Mr. Ferguson?” Moira asked, her voice light but hopeful.
“Exactly.”
“I love a garden party. I think that would be quite fun. Thank ye so much, Lady Ava,” Moira said, her smile broadening.
“Oh, pish posh, call me Ava. You dinna have to call me Lady Ava. We need no’ be so formal as we’re going to be such good friends.”
“Right, Ava.” Moira’s smile grew even brighter as she stared at her. “Thank ye ever so much. I’m no’ sure that I would’ve found a match as quickly as it seems I might with ye around. Gavan seems happier to keep me locked up inside.” Moira laughed, waving away her cousin’s antics.
And Ava pretended not to bristle at how involved evidently Gavan wanted to be.
“I’m sure he only has your best interests at heart,” Ava said carefully. She, of course, didn’t want to think that Gavan would try to keep Moira from attending her events. But the thought nagged at her. Why should he always be the raincloud at every garden party?
“I’m sure ye’re right. He is ever such a gentleman and so kind to let me come stay and sponsor me for the summer.”
“Indeed he is,” Ava said with a polite but tight smile.
They settled into their chairs, the delicate china clinking softly as Ava poured the tea. The granules of sugar chipped from the sugar loaf tumbled like little white jewels into Moira’s cup, followed by a generous splash of cream. The sandwiches were small but perfect, the crusts neatly trimmed, each one arranged like a work of art.
While they drank their tea and ate the sandwiches, Ava listened to Moira’s chatter with interest, occasionally steering the conversation with an expertly placed question. “And what is it ye enjoy most? Books? Riding? Music?” Ava feigned casual curiosity as she mentally took notes.
She was fishing for details, hints she could pass along to Lachlan. It would help him in getting to know Moira better, give him easy openings for conversation, and, if Ava had her way, make Moira fall for him even faster. She’d done this before, carefully nudging two people together until they thought the entire thing had been their idea.
Of course, she wouldn’t share these things with the other men who had sent flowers. They didn’t need to know anything about Moira. They weren’t part of the plan. In fact, Ava was already considering how to redirect them, perhaps a carefully worded note here, a whispered suggestion there. An invitation for one of them to escort a shy widow to the next assembly. A subtle mention to another about a wealthy young heiress recently returned from Edinburgh. Little nudges, nothing Moira would notice, but just enough to keep them occupied elsewhere.
“What about ye?” Moira asked suddenly, tilting her head. “Do ye have a gentleman that ye’re interested in?”
