Two #2
Mistress Hillary forced a smile. “My pupil was feeling a bit faint but she has recovered completely, haven’t you, my dear?”
Constance Cameron murmured an unintelligible answer. Her side glance toward the others standing close by told Gordon that she did not appreciate so much unwanted attention.
But he had what he wanted. “Please, Headmistress, may I beg an introduction?”
Headmistress Hillary frowned, but did as he asked. She had no choice. “Miss Constance Cameron, may I introduce to you Mr. Gordon Lachlan of Speyside. His father was an important magistrate in this country. Miss Constance is related to the Duke of Colster.”
He had the right woman. “Miss Constance,” he murmured with a slight bow.
She didn’t want to play at manners. Her hands stayed at her sides. She was angry that her desire to go outside had been thwarted, and he wondered what waited for her there. Most likely a gentleman. All of London knew the Cameron sisters were opportunists.
Now, how could he play this to his own advantage?
“Miss Constance?” Mistress Hillary prodded. “Perhaps you are not feeling well and wish to be sent to your room?”
A reluctant gloved hand came up and was offered to him. “It is a pleasure, sir.” She even bothered to give him a curtsey, although it was the very swiftest bob of her knees.
Gordon wanted to laugh. Now that he had her, he wasn’t going to let her go. “Please honor me with the next dance,” he begged.
A frown formed between her brows. She blamed him for her being caught, but before the word ”no” formed on her lips, she cast a swift glance at Mistress Hillary and changed her mind. “I’d be honored, sir.”
Thomas and the lads would be proud of him, Gordon thought. Now all he needed was to discover why she wanted to go outside and promise to escort her. This was going to be far easier than the original plan of scaling a wall and stealing her from her bed.
Gordon offered his arm. She accepted it with all the grace of a princess being paired with a peasant, not even bothering to meet his eye—and he felt challenged.
Women chased him. It was rarely the opposite.
“If you’ll excuse us, Headmistress?” he said.
The headmistress nodded her assent, her lips pursed in concern.
Gordon waited until out of earshot of the headmistress to confide, “She is not happy with you.” Offering sympathy was often the easiest way to a woman’s heart.
“She rarely is.” Miss Constance kept her gaze forward, her back stiff.
And Gordon realized he was going to have to work harder. His sister Fiona had often said that women came too easily to him. He wondered what she’d say now.
“I’m sorry I upset your plans for a lovers’ tryst,” he said, taking a stab at her motive for going out into the garden.
Her chin lifted. “I wanted a breath of fresh air. Nothing more.”
“Liar,” he said.
Her head whipped around and her gaze met his. “Snitch,” she responded.
Startled, Gordon came to a halt.
He reassessed his original impression of Constance Cameron. She was young but not defenseless. He’d best be on his toes.
“You are a bit older than the other girls, aren’t you?” he said.
“You are a bit rougher than the other gentlemen, aren’t you?”
“I know my manners,” he said.
“I do, too,” she answered, but then capitulated with the truth, “Well, sometimes I do. It seems every time I turn around, Headmistress Hillary makes up new rules for me to obey. And I fear I’ve been a bit gruff. It’s not your fault I received a dressing down.”
Her directness, her honesty, caught him off guard. She wasn’t like the other preening women in this room.
And for a moment he could imagine himself in another time and place. For a moment he found himself wishing he was nothing more than a country gentleman come to flirt a few hours away at a dance. For a moment he wanted to live in those precious carefree days of what seemed to be long ago.
“Let us start this again,” he offered. He bowed. “I’m Gordon Lachlan of Speyside.”
Her clear eyes searched his face before dropping to the ungloved hand he offered. He gave no apology. Not for not having gloves nor for the calluses there, a sign that he was accustomed to hard work.
She placed her gloved hand in his, and this time her curtsey was flawless. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Miss Constance Cameron, formerly of the Ohio Valley.” She said this last with pride.
“I had thought your family was from London.”
“My sisters chose to live there. I’m an American.”
It was as if she was declaring herself and daring him to find fault.
Gordon didn’t. As a Highlander, he understood being an outsider. “I understand American women are of an independent spirit.”
“Yes,” she said, her lips curving into a smile. “We are.”
And for a second Gordon was transfixed.
No one smiled like Constance Cameron. It lit her face. Her skin even seemed to glow. A man would perform any feat to see such a smile, especially if it was directed toward himself—
“Are you two joining the dance or not?” Lady Mary Alice interrupted. “We are waiting for you.”
Her shrill voice broke the moment between them.
Miss Constance—Constance, he amended, dropping the fussy “Miss” from his mind, because her name sounded more independent, more American, without it—broke away as if suddenly realizing they were not alone.
She hurried past him to take her place among the line of women ready for a lively reel.
Gordon moved to stand across from her, finding himself between Captain Ardmore and the young lieutenant. He could feel the tension in both men. They wouldn’t look at him, but were aware of him.
Across from them, Lady Mary Alice and Miss Heloise were giving Gordon their best dimpled smiles. He couldn’t help but savor the moment, capping it off with a wink at Lady Mary Alice.
Constance’s stomach hollowed with disappointment.
Mr. Lachlan had winked at Lady Mary Alice, her nemesis, and he’d done it right in front of her.
The music started. She moved her feet with the rhythm. She was too proud to let anyone know she’d witnessed the wink.
Of course, what bothered her most was that Mr. Lachlan almost had her fooled.
Yes, she found him physically attractive—what woman with two eyes wouldn’t?
—however, in those brief, private moments between them, she’d thought she’d discovered something more in him.
He’d not looked down his nose at her as so many others did when she mentioned her American upbringing.
He’d actually appeared to respect her for it, to understand her pride in it… to accept her.
Unfortunately, that wink evaporated all goodwill she had toward him.
And when Captain Ardmore and Lieutenant Nelson sought retribution for Mr. Lachlan’s flirting in the form of a well-timed shove out of the line, Constance didn’t bat an eyelash as the captain took the Scotsman’s place.
She even smiled brilliantly at Ardmore as they reeled their way down the center of the other clapping dancers.
Mr. Lachlan was left to partner Lady Mary Alice.