Chapter 3
“Ye’re looking better than I’m feeling.”
At Lysander’s words, Max scrambled for a towel, but none was in reach of the bathtub. “Don’t you know how to knock?” he growled, instead cupping his hands in front of himself under the water.
“I did,” Lysander declared cheerfully, as he plopped down on one of the benches in the bathing chamber and eyed Max in the tub. “Was yer head underwater?”
“Possibly.” Max had to admit that having a separate chamber for bathing—with real, hot running water—was a major improvement over his room at the inn. No wonder he’d agreed to spend the night at Dumpkins before heading back there.
He might’ve spent some time submerged, just for the fun of it. “What do you want?”
“Tsk-tsk. That’s no’ verra welcoming.”
“I’m lying here in rapidly cooling water, holding my own genitalia. How do you expect me to act?”
Lysander made a show of leaning forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and craning his head sideways, as if trying to catch a glimpse under the bubbles. “I suppose ye’d rather someone else hold yer—what did ye call yer bollocks? Och, aye—yer genitalia.”
Max glared. “You’re not offering, I hope?”
Chuckling, Lysander smacked the side of the tub, then sucked in a breath and cupped his forehead. “Ow.”
“Headache?” It was still early enough in the day, was it possible Lysander had overindulged the night before?
“Too much brandy. It doesnae sit as smoothly in my stomach as good Highland whisky, aye?”
Max had to agree with that. “I know what you mean. I had a bit too much myself.”
“I ken it. That’s why ye stuck around last night, remember?” Smirking, Lysander stretched his feet out in front of him. “Ye sure we cannae talk ye into staying for the rest of the house party? Dumpkins is even nicer than Newfincy, and much finer than yer inn.”
Allowing himself to relax a bit, Max rested his head against the edge of the tub, but didn’t un-cup his hands, just in case Lysander could see through the bubbles.
“I’ll admit you Scots know how to live life.
Now don’t get me wrong, we’ve got some nice bathing chambers back in America—I’m sure your cousin Andrew Prince can afford one—but I’ve just never experienced it, and I’m glad I accepted the opportunity to enjoy it. ”
“Ye mean ye were just too drunk to make it back to the inn last night, so ye gave into my nagging.”
“Possibly.” When Max shrugged, a bit of the water spilled over the side of the tub, and he resisted the urge to wince.
Here in the Highlands, he was allowed to make messes—and demands—without feeling guilty.
Lysander rolled his shoulders with a groan. Then, straightening, he arched his back, as if stretching out the discomfort. “Ye mean that the Oliphant Inn doesnae have hot running water?”
“Some of the suites do, and the ones that don’t have pretty serving girls to fetch it.” Max winked, thinking of the serving lass he’d run into—literally—yesterday afternoon.
But he should be thinking of the mysterious lady he danced with at the ball, shouldn’t he? The intriguing lady with the even more intriguing shoes…
“Damn.” Lysander slumped. “I suppose that means ye’ll want to stick around here to enjoy the tubs, eh?” To Max’s surprise, his brother didn’t look happy about that idea, even though it had been him who’d been constantly bugging him to do that very thing. “I need an excuse to visit ye at the inn.”
“Really?” Max’s brows shot up. He hadn’t spent all that much time at the Oliphant Inn in the last few weeks, only returning there to sleep. And Lysander had only visited him a few times, like yesterday, when he’d come to fetch Max. “Why?”
His brother seemed hesitant to answer at first. “Did ye see the pink angel I danced with last night? The one with the fancy shoes?”
The mention of shoes drew Max’s attention to the dressing table across the room, and the object nestled in the top drawer. But he merely said, “I remember seeing the two of you together.”
“Aye, well, she didnae tell me her name, but I want to see her again. She told me I could find her at the inn.”
Max frowned. The woman Lysander had danced with had worn her blonde hair up in a fancy style, and there wasn’t much else to use to identify her. “You think visiting the inn will allow you to find her?”
“Maybe she’s a guest?” Lysander shrugged.
“The inn proprietress, Lady Machara Oliphant, has two daughters. The older of the two has lighter hair. She’s attended the house party events—you haven’t met her before?”
Lysander sat forward; his eagerness plainly written across his expression.
“Really? What’s her name? There’s got to be two dozen young ladies who attend various events, and I’ve missed plenty of them up ‘til now, with estate business.” His grin was huge.
“I think I remember meeting the baroness’s daughters and thinking they were both beauties, but last night… ”
As he blew out a fond breath, Max was surprised to feel…jealousy? Was he jealous that his brother had enjoyed so much success with his lady?
He’d seen Lysander dancing with the lady in pink, seen the two of them laughing together, and had even seen him pull her aside for a private conversation. He hadn’t seen what had come of it, but it had been clear Lysander had enjoyed himself at the ball.
And Max? Well, he’d danced with an absolutely intriguing redhead, who wore unusual footwear…but had then run from him. Not just from him, but from the ball, and from the castle. What had he done to warrant such an escape?
Uncomfortable, he shifted in the tub, the water spilling over the side once more. He couldn’t shake the idea she might’ve been in trouble and needed help, but he was unlikely to find her again, right?
Although…
His gaze cut to the dressing table again. She’d left something of hers behind, and if he were ever offered the chance to return it, he would. And he’d thank her for the most delicious dance and ask her about the business proposition she’d mentioned.
“Max?”
He started, remembering his brother was waiting for a response. “Aye, the older daughter’s name is Tiffany, I believe. I remember thinking she was a bit prideful, thanks to her beauty.”
“Haughty?” Lysander hummed. “Aye, that could be my angel. I’ll have to call on Baroness Oliphant at the inn and inquire after her daughter.”
Max sunk lower in the tub, aware that his bubble cover was diminishing as the water cooled. “So that’s where you’re off to today?”
His brother chuckled. “Nay, although I wish. I have to spend some time at my estate for a change, then back here for another of Lady Dumpkins’s grand hunts.
Da is insisting I attend—since he’s sweet on the widow, he needs an excuse to stay at the house party.
I told him ye were likely no’ to miss me. ”
“I’ll miss ye terribly, deeply!” Max sighed with over-dramatic sorrow. “But somehow, I’ll console myself with the mountain of work I’ve got waiting for me at Oliphant Engraving.”
“Aye, that’s what I meant.” Lysander grinned.
“Phin willnae be at the party much longer—he’s just waiting for Olive’s family to arrive so they can marry and head off to Egypt or China or wherever the Society is sending him.
” With a flick of his fingers, Lysander dismissed what Max would have called the trip of a lifetime.
“Lyon escorted Athena back to Newfincy last night, then went and hid himself at the auld estate. So I dinnae care if ye stay here in my absence, or move into yer own house, but when I get back, I’m dragging yer arse to the inn for an introduction. ”
“Deal. Now go away.”
Lysander grinned. “I’m waiting to escort ye down to luncheon. If I have to sit around too many loud people with a headache, I insist on ye going with me.”
“I’m not getting out of this tub until you’re gone!”
“Why?” Lysander stood, making a nonchalant show of peering into the tub as Max sunk his chin below the water. “Ye havenae got anything I havenae seen already, do ye? I have more than one brother.”
Spitting water out of his mouth, Max glared. “Yeah, well, I’m new to the idea of having more than one, and the one I grew up with was an asshole. So hand me that towel and get out!”
Chuckling, Lysander snagged a towel off the top of a pile of fluffy white ones and tossed it underhanded toward Max’s head. Max had to scramble upright—more water splashed on the floor—to keep it from sailing past the tub.
“Thanks,” he muttered sarcastically.
“Dinnae mention it!” Lysander was on his way out the door. “Put yer trousers on and come downstairs to see me off, or I’ll believe ye’re pining for me.”
Max snorted and waited for his brother to close the door behind him before he stood. Pining for Lysander? Unlikely. He’d spend the next week getting comfortable at Oliphant Engraving, settling into his new role, and he’d likely not think of Lysander a bit.
But he had to admit, there were others occupying his mind, as he used the towel to sluice water and bubbles from his skin. Such as that flustered serving girl in the ugly cap he’d bumped into yesterday at the inn. Or the redhead with the intriguing mask and shoes at the ball.
One was a lady and one was a servant, but they both had captured his attention.
Maybe it was because, for most of his life, he’d been little more than a servant himself, but now he was rubbing elbows with lairds and Earls and dear God, he’d only narrowly missed having to socialize with the Duke again, hadn’t he?
With a sigh, Max stepped from the tub, careful to drip onto the towel he’d placed down for just that reason. He hung up the wet one he’d used, then grabbed a fresh one to wrap around his waist, tightening it securely, with a suspicious glance at the door, just in case Lysander returned.
Then he crossed to the dressing table and pulled open the top drawer. There, beside a guest shaving kit, lay a bundle wrapped in cotton.