No, that wasn’t who he’d been thinking of at all, but rather the blond man she’d greeted with such affection at the Gould soiree. Was he courting her as well? Or was he a lover? Did she welcome it in either case? He shouldn’t care and he certainly couldn’t ask. It would be beyond the pale to pry into her private affairs.
CHAPTER 7
I won’t be protected. I will choose for myself what is ladylike and right. To shield me is an insult.
~ E.M. Forster
Prim had to give him credit for his perception. It had never occurred to her that her family coddled her so because she was all they had but it made so much sense. They needed to wed, every last one of them.
They needed a project greater than the only one currently available to them. Or perhaps if that job were already done…
Or if they thought it done…
Prim looked up at Mr. MacKintosh, considering. He was a nobleman if not a true lord, brother of a British earl. Wealthy by all accounts, no one could accuse him of being a fortune hunter.
He seemed inclined to…what? Woo her in some fashion, even if it was only into his bed.
His gaze flashed with interest as he looked at her now. The way his mossy green eyes focused upon her, so warm they made concentration difficult.
What if…?
What if she allowed Mr. MacKintosh to court her?
If the impression were given that he was pursuing her—with marriage in mind, of course—perhaps it might allow her a respite from Mr. Leachman pressing his suit.
Leachman was Declan’s candidate. Her brothers supported it because they saw few other options for her. If she proposed one of her own…
No. Her brothers would never allow him to seriously court her any more than she’d believe herself courted in all seriousness. Shane had made that perfectly clear. They saw in him a reputation, either deserved or not.
However, if she could convince them of his superior business acumen and make them realize that he was better qualified to oversee the fortune her husband had left in her care, then she might be set free of Leachman’s courtship.
All she had to do was ask.
Her hand was on his arm, her lips parted before she even knew what she was about. “Mr. MacKintosh…”
Just that. Nothing more.
“Aye?”
No, she simply could never be so brash. Still…
“M-Mr. MacKintosh…”
“Mrs. Eames…?” His deep brogue held a hint of exaggerated patience. His disposition nothing but amusement.
Prim looked over at the men still watching them. She was so weary of their attempts to govern her life. If she wanted to fight for the rights of her gender, she first needed to find some for herself. Think for herself. Fight for herself, even if it were a fight against good intentions alone.
“You seem a bit of a brawler.”
His eyes widened, no doubt the rushed words had come as a shock. She was more than a little taken aback by them herself. But then his eyes began to sparkle once more and a corresponding lightness soothed a fragment of the tension that wound her so tightly.
“I’ve been known to brawl.” His voice was bursting with amusement. “Every now and then, of course.”
“Of course.” She nodded, casting a glance back at her father-in-law. Her resolve fortified. “Might I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“You see, I’m not above admitting there are some things I cannot accomplish on my own.”
