Chapter 1 #2
Mother rallied and glanced around. “I was rather hoping your brothers might join us. The Earl’s heir or…the other one.”
Lysander made a show of following her gaze—the curtains, the stairs—as if his brothers might be hiding. “Alas, neither of my brothers were available.”
“Phineas is preparing for his wedding with Miss L’arbre, Mother,” Bonnie murmured, sending Athena a little smile.
“Aye, ye are stuck with me,” Athena declared cheerfully.
Through the awkwardness, Tiffany had found herself gripping her skirts. Not because of her mother’s rudeness—she was used to that—but out of nerves. Lysander hadn’t bowed over her hand, and she was terrified she knew why.
When he finally turned to her, she was quick to arrange her expression into the smile she knew made her look beautiful, yet approachable. He studied her for a moment longer than was necessary, making her feel as if he weren’t quite impressed with her efforts.
Finally, he inclined his head, and Tiffany felt herself begin to breathe again.
“Miss Oliphant,” he murmured politely, as he took her hand. “We meet again.”
It wasn’t a “I’m so glad we’ve met again,” or “Of course we’d meet again, since I invited ye after all,” or even a “What in the hell are ye doing here, so that we could meet again?” It was just a simple statement, and Tiffany found herself floundering in intentions.
“Yes, milord.” She remembered to keep her voice breathy and alluring, the way Mother said men preferred. “Thank you so much for having us. This is the highlight of our week.”
He straightened but didn’t release her hand.
His touch, the way it had in the past, sent little shivers of delicious warmth through her, and she felt as if she could spend the rest of her life holding his hand, despite the layer of soft glove she wore.
When she felt his thumb trace a small circle across the backs of her fingers, she wanted to drop her gaze to confirm, but couldn’t seem to stop looking at him.
And the way he was looking at her.
Despite the warmth of his touch, his hazel gaze was…closed off. Not at all the open and laughing young man she’d danced and flirted with at the ball. But at least it wasn’t the icy anger she’d felt from him when he’d come to the inn for tea.
“Aye,” he finally murmured, and when she shifted frantically through her memory to the last thing said, she bristled at his agreement. As if this should be the highlight of her week.
With a faint sniff and telling herself it didn’t matter how nice his touch felt, she pulled her hand from Lysander’s and straightened her shoulders. Surprisingly, his lips curled upward at her haughtiness, but it wasn’t a warm smile.
He inclined his head once more. “Tea, Miss Oliphant?”
When he gestured to the collection of chairs where Bonnie and Athena were already speaking animatedly about something-or-other, she lifted her chin and swept past him, her stomach all in knots.
Why was he acting this way? She studied him surreptitiously as she poured the tea and was disconcerted to find him watching her. Oh, she was used to men looking at her, but Lysander was studying. Noting her every move…judging. She could feel his regard and didn’t care for the sensation.
Mainly, because she was worried he might not like what he saw.
“We Oliphants need to preserve our history,” Athena was saying to Bonnie, who nodded along. “For some of us, it is the only clan history we will have. And so much of it is disappearing.”
Bonnie was clearly enjoying the discussion, whatever it was. “The next generation will thank us for ensuring their children will be able to enjoy it.”
The redhead’s expression had tightened at the reference to the next generation, but now she nodded. “Aye, exactly. For the bairns born into the clan, and those who will no’ claim their father’s clan, this is vital work.”
They all knew to whom Athena referred, which is likely why Bonnie’s tone was encouraging when she said, “I have heard that your family’s collection is quite extensive.”
“It is impressive indeed,” Athena agreed.
“Indeed,” murmured Lysander, still staring at Tiffany.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “More tea, milord?” she asked, trying to distract him.
“Nay. Mine is delicious.”
He hadn’t touched the cup she’d been forced to set in front of him.
Willing her hands to stop shaking, Tiffany carefully leaned forward and placed her own cup and saucer on the small table across from his.
Then she smoothed her palms over her skirts and told herself there was no reason for a man’s scrutiny to make her feel so—so—bare.
She was beautiful, was she not? It was no wonder he would stare at her so.
But the truth was, she was afraid he was studying her for another reason entirely. The same reason his hazel eyes were no longer warm and full of laughter when they met hers.
When he and Mr. DeVille had taken tea at the inn, Tiffany was rather afraid of what they might’ve overheard.
It had been only a week after the ball, and Bonnie had been teasing her about Mother’s plans. Mother had always dreamed of Tiffany becoming Lady Oliphant—not a Lady Oliphant, as Mother herself was, but The Lady Oliphant, married to the next laird—and Tiffany was horrified by the prospect.
Not just because it would mean not being able to marry Lysander and live Happily Ever After, as the heroines did in Bonnie’s books, but because of who the heir was.
It wasn’t just his scars which made Lyon Oliphant unapproachable, but the fact he treated everyone so coldly since the death of his wife.
He was filled with a harshness which scared Tiffany.
She would rather be married to—to anyone than to the Beast of the Oliphants.
Unfortunately, when Bonnie had teased her about such a possibility, Tiffany had snapped back rather cruelly.
She hadn’t just insulted the man’s appearance—which he couldn’t control, not really—but his cold heartlessness.
She hadn’t been overly loud, but she’d insulted the heir quite thoroughly until Bonnie understood the depths of her dislike.
And then, when they’d stepped farther down the hall, they’d realized the door to the parlor where Lysander sat had been propped open.
She wasn’t certain he’d heard any of her words, but the guilt had been eating at her since that day.
When they’d received the invitation to tea with the Oliphant gentlemen, she’d spent the day rejoicing, believing that meant Lysander was still very much interested in her.
But now, seeing his neutral regard, she wasn’t sure what to think.
Bonnie and Athena were still chatting animatedly about clan history—well, Tiffany supposed Bonnie was excited about the history, and Athena must be passionate about the Oliphants.
Mother was stewing because, as Athena was one of the hosts, she couldn’t very well suggest a change of subject which would appeal to her more.
Tiffany was content to listen to their discussion, as it gave her a chance to look somewhere besides Lysander.
And despite Mother’s teachings, she was pleased to not be the center of attention for once.
“—determined to add to Father’s library, so my—” Athena bit off her words and smiled tightly. “So the next generation of Oliphants can study their past.”
“I agree completely.” Bonnie slid a Significant Glance toward Mother. “I was recently considering such a thing, while reading that book in the carriage, Mother.”
“Oh delightful,” murmured their mother, sipping her tea archly.
How did one manage to archly sip tea? Well, however Mother had done it, she’d done it smashingly.
“Now that Lysander has Blah-blah-blah—” Athena began, and her brother corrected, “Blabloblal,” as if it were instinctual. But she merely grinned behind her teacup. “He is no’ as worried about the Oliphant library.”
“I think it is a fine goal.” Lysander’s words were stiff, and he hadn’t looked at his sister. No, his gaze was still coldly locked on Tiffany. “One that my brother—the Beast—shares.”
Tiffany swallowed and dropped his gaze.
Had she called Lyon that? Everyone referred to him as the Beast of the Oliphants; besides his scars, he’d become harsh and distant since his wife’s death. While Tiffany had no desire to spend her days married to a man whose barked orders made her flinch, she shouldn’t have called him that out loud.
“Yes, well, Lyon has been less than helpful when it comes to my quest.”
“Quest, Lady Athena?” Bonnie prompted, thankfully turning everyone’s attention back to the conversation at hand.
Athena leaned forward to set down her tea.
“Father—at my urging—has been collecting everything we can about the clan’s history.
It is our goal to have it in one place, so that it might be preserved.
Art, manuscripts, records—I find the little fiddly bit of handwriting to be difficult to read, but Da assures me that marriage and death records are important. ”
“Oh, they are!” Bonnie enthusiastically launched into a list of things which could be learned from such information, but Mother interrupted.
“Bonniebelle, do not monopolize the conversation.”
Bonnie froze, then dropped her gaze to her teacup, Athena’s brow rose in challenge, and even Lysander shifted his cold stare to Mother, who didn’t notice.
Lady Athena’s lips twitched. “Da has sent out collectors and couriers across the Highlands, and he has pulled together an impressive library of medieval Oliphant manuscripts. He is paying quite well for anything written by an Oliphant.”
Finally, Mother seemed interested. “Quite well, you say?”