“Your uncle is merely being neighborly,” she said. “Tell me, did you introduce yourself to Hope?”
“Nay.”
“Well, then you'll have an opportunity to do so at dinner,” Lady Belle said. “But really, MacKinnon, you should know I've never been mistaken in matters of the heart. I genuinely believe you and Hope would do very well together.”
Graham snorted. Even if they did get along, it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't marry a woman simply to gain property, especially when it should already belong to him.
“It wouldn't be fair to her,” he said. “Even if we did suit, Lismore Hall would always be between us. You've tainted it.”
“So, I should have kept my mouth shut and hoped that you two would just naturally come together?”
He shrugged.
“Perhaps.”
“Well, I haven't the time to wait around hoping for you and her to come together on your own. Especially since you seem so determined to not start a relationship with anyone until you possess this house. Aren’t you lonely?”
“I have company enough,” he said, knowing he was barely telling the truth.
Graham had cavorted with a number of women over the years, but they had been entirely casual affairs, focused on the physical rather than the emotional. He had never considered any of them a potential life partner—he had barely even considered any of them to be friends.
“You have bedmates,” she corrected him.
“Same thing. And why don't you have the time?”
Lady Belle's face became shuttered and she pivoted around so that she no longer faced him.
“No one does, MacKinnon. Tomorrow is never promised. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to finish before attending dinner.”
She left the room, leaving Graham to wonder what she had meant. She acted as though she knew for a certainty that time were running out. Possibly at her age, it could be. But as far as he could tell, she was perfectly healthy and only wanted to use him to make a match for one of her spinster nieces.
Although, spinster was hardly the word Graham would use to describe Hope. It was anybody's guess why the dark-haired beauty hadn't found a husband yet. She certainly stirred his curiosity, which irked him even more. Why was she unattached?
He stood up and walked toward the drink cabinet in the back of the room. Perhaps Hope was sharp-tongued or lacking in some inane talent that gentlemen of first society focused on. Or perhaps the Englishmen she had been accustomed to simply had terrible taste.
After withdrawing a bottle of scotch from the cabinet, he poured himself a draught and sank onto the settee positioned before the fireplace. Though the summer season had just begun, a fire blazed as Lismore Hall was often cold.
Taking a sip of the peaty scotch, Graham couldn't shed his curiosity when it came to Hope. A beauty like she should havebeen plucked from the marriage market years ago. Why was she still unattached? It was something he planned on learning, along with all the stipulations of Lady Belle's will.
Just then, footfalls and feminine chatter echoed throughout the outside hallway. Graham turned towards the doorway as two ladies entered, smiling, and talking to one another before they spotted Graham. They halted in their tracks.
A stilted silence followed before Graham raised his glass and nodded.
“Hello,” he said, guessing these must be Hope's sisters.
They had the same dark hair as Hope, though their features varied. One had blue eyes and wore a violet day gown with white stripes. She had a straight nose and did not smile at him. The other wore a rose-colored tiered dress. She had amber color eyes, with a more defined brow than her sisters and a slimmer mouth. She gave him a cheerful grin.
They were both quite attractive, though Graham believed Hope was the most pleasing to look at. Her dark hair matched her eyes in a way that made her skin glow with a beauty that neither of her sisters could match. Still, he couldn’t understand why none of them had been married.
The one in rose regarded Graham with a smile while the one in violet pinned him with a suspicious stare.
“Hello,” the smiling one said, coming forward. “Are you a guest of Belle's?”
“A permanent pest, more like it,” he said, standing. “You must be two of the three Sharpe sisters.”
“We are,” she said. “I'm Grace Sharpe. This is my sister, Faith.”
The suspicious one nodded but made no attempt to come closer.
