“So tell me,” Megan continued. “Have you met anyone yet that you might be interested in?”
“John Kent.”
That answer came too quickly, surprising Megan. “Well, yes, a fine young man he is. Conservative. Comes from excellent—are you quite sure? Don’t misunderstand, but he seems a bit stuffy to me.”
Kimberly couldn’t help herself. She laughed at that description, which she’d noticed for herself. “Ah, but you see, I’ve lived all my life with a—how shall I put this? Highly emotional parent.”
“A bit hot-tempered, your father?”
“Yes, exactly. So for me, stuffy isn’t so bad, it’s actually refreshing.”
“Never say so,” Megan said in mock horror. “My Devlin has occasional bouts of stuffiness, nothing like he used to have, mind you, but still every once in a while that old stuffiness comes through and drives me up a wall in no time a’tall. If you want a change from hot tempers, you’ll want a quiet sort, or better yet, someone with a nice sense of humor who’ll make you laugh a lot.”
They both glanced furtively at Lachlan at that point, who was whistling quietly to himself as if he hadn’t heard a word they’d said. Kimberly was flustered as usual, having him near. And he was sinfully handsome tonight in his black formal wear, which made it even worse.
She had tried to concentrate on the gentlemen she was meeting, but it was next to impossible with Lachlan MacGregor in the same room. And she was disappointed too. For some reason, she’d actually expected him to ask her to dance—at least once. But he hadn’t. He’d been dancing with Megan or not dancing at all.
“There was also Howard Canston,” Kimberly mentioned. “I found him quite interesting.”
Megan frowned without realizing it. The trouble was, there wasn’t a single thing she could think of that was wrong with Canston. He was athletic, yet also active in the House of Lords, where he had taken over his father’s seat since old Canston had become ill. The family was wealthy, owning some prime properties right in London. No scandal had ever been associated with their name. And Howard was due to inherit the title of marquis as soon as his father passed on, which rumor had it, wouldn’t be much longer.
No, Viscount Canston was one of the prime catches of the season, ideally suited for any young miss, Kimberly included. He was also quite good-looking, if one liked those golden Adonis sorts.
Meganwishedshe could say something disagreeable about the chap, simply because she already had it set in her mind that Lachlan was the man for Kimberly. But she couldn’t, and to be fair, she supposed she ought to at least invite Canston to Sherring Cross in the coming weeks. And if shehadto be fair, she might as well invite Lord Kent too. Actually, if she was going to go that far, she might as well give Margaret the go-ahead to invite some of the young women she had come up with who would be suitable for Lachlan.
Megan sighed to herself. There were times when fairness just went against the grain, it really did.
And this was definitely one of those times. She forced herself to say, albeit a bit tersely, “Howard will make a fine husband. Anyone else?”
It wasn’t all that surprising, at that point, that Kimberly mentioned three other names. The girl was here to get married, after all, and apparently, wasn’t going to waste any time just enjoying herself.
Megan would really like to know, though, why, with such a prime specimen of manhood on hand from the very beginning, Kimberly didn’t seem the least bit interested in Lachlan. And if she was interested and just wasn’t letting on, well then, it was certainly a well-kept secret.
But that wasn’t something that could be asked at the moment, much as she wanted to. Not with Lachlan barely pretending not to be eavesdropping on their conversation.
It was a moot point, at any rate, as the balcony doors opened again to reveal Devlin standing there, filling the space. He didn’t have to look far to find them, and he was there with a purpose. Cupping a hand to his mouth, he imitated a whisper, which in fact had no trouble reaching all three of them.
“Megan, love, I need you to rescue me from Henrietta Marks, who is determined to espouse her husband’s political views to me, which all and sundry know I don’t agree with one little bit. Be quick, she’s right on my coattails.”
He sounded huffy and expectant all in the same breath, and the expectancy won out. He didn’t give Megan a chance to answer either way, nor make the appropriate excuses to her companions. He stepped forward, gave Kimberly a generous smile, gave Lachlan no glance at all, and abruptly whisked Megan back into the ballroom.
And the first thing Megan noticed was no dragon breathing down his back, which she immediately pointed out. “I don’t see Henrietta anywhere.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” he replied as he patted her hand, grinned at her, then gathered her in his arms to finish the current dance in progress. “The Markses never come to these fancy affairs.”
She was surprised for all of five seconds, then she was smiling up at him. “That was brilliant timing, if I do say so myself, allowing me to leave Kimberly and Lachlan alone out there.”
“Yes, I know,” he said rather smugly.
She raised a brow at him. “You mean you saw us go out to the balcony?”
“My dear, I am always aware of where you are and what you’re doing.”
To that she made a face. “I don’t know whether I should be extremely pleased about that, or wonder whether or not you trust me.”
“Since I trust you implicitly, I suppose you will have to settle for being pleased.”
She smiled again. “Yes, I suppose I will.”
