“How do you do?”
“Fine,” he said, winking at the quiet one. Might as well have some fun with them before Hope arrived. “And you?”
Faith frowned while humor appeared in Grace’s eyes as she looked back at her sister. Graham got the impression that Faith didn’t appreciate teasing and that Grace was rather entertained by her discomfort.
“We’re very well, thank you,” Grace said, beaming at him. “Have you seen our Belle? We were told it was nearly time for supper.”
“She's gone to finish some correspondence, but I'm sure she'll be done soon enough,” he said, nodding towards the door. “The dining hall in just to the left, across the hallway. Her dining etiquette is quite casual, so if you wanted to meet her there, you should feel free to go ahead. She will not be offended.”
“Are you attending dinner, Mr… ?” Grace let her last word linger so that he might introduce himself.
“Graham MacKinnon. And I'm still debating if I should subject Lady Belle and the rest of you to my presence.”
Grace angled her chin, frowning. Just then, another set of footsteps sounded from behind them. Before Grace could inquire as to him what he meant, Hope entered the parlor, dressed in a pale pink evening gown. Graham noticed her slight breathlessness, as if she had rushed there.
Upon seeing him, she stopped short, her dark eyes focusing on him and demanded, “What are you doing here?”
“Hope!” Grace chided, glancing between her and Graham. “Have you met Mr. MacKinnon?”
Graham watched to see if his name sparked any sort of recognition in her, but she showed no signs of being familiar with it.
“Who?”
“This is Mr. Graham MacKinnon. He's a friend of Belle.”
“A friend?”
“I wonder what sort,” Faith said beneath her breath.
“I must apologize, Mr. MacKinnon,” Grace began, glancing between Hope and Faith. “My sisters do not seem to be themselves.”
“It's no trouble to me,” he said, though his eyes remained on Hope.
It seemed to Graham that none of the Sharpes knew who he was. Grace glanced between him and Hope for a moment, as if waiting for something. Finally, when no one acted, she spoke again.
“Well, I suppose we should find that dining room,” Grace said. “Mr. MacKinnon, have you decided whether you will be joining us for dinner?”
“I think I might,” he said, having made up his mind to at least garner some information from the women. “Follow me.”
He held out his arm. As they were all the same social rank, the honor of his escort fell to the eldest. Hope hesitated for a moment, as if disbelieving that she was to be escorted by a man she had assumed was an intruder. Still, she gingerly placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.
The warmth of her small hand sent a warning throughout Graham's body. An image flashed in his mind of that same small hand moving over him, exploring, and learning the anatomy of his body. He cleared his throat and struggled to banish the image from his mind as they walked.
“So, you are not an intruder?” Hope asked softly enough that her sisters couldn't hear.
“No,” he answered gruffly. “Far from it.”
“Then who are you to my aunt?”
“A friend,” he said, giving her a side glance. “For nigh ten years now.”
“Ten years?” Hope repeated. “She's never mentioned you before.”
Graham’s brow lifted. Surely Lady Belle had informed her niece about him if she wanted them to marry.
“Hasn't she?” he replied.
“No,” she answered. “Why would you believe otherwise? Should I know who you are?”
