Callum looked up. The two women approaching were indeed Penelope and Selina. He was more concerned with the former, noting her fair hair fashioned in ringlets that peeped out from under her bonnet and danced about her lovely face, while her silver eyes were narrowed against the sun. Or perhaps... were they narrowed because there was something abouthimshe disapproved of?
He admitted he wanted Penelope to approve of him, but at the same time he enjoyed unsettling her. She was so calm and composed that he longed to cause her eyes to narrow as they were now, or even to flash. He wanted to dig beneath her unruffled exterior and reveal the real woman he knew was hiding there. He wanted to see her smile as she had yesterday.
As for what else Callum wanted to do to her... well, they were the sort of ungentlemanly thoughts he should not be having right now.
When the two parties met, Penelope held out her hand to Callum. “My lord Marquess,” she said, and gave a little curtsy.
Callum bowed. “Miss Armstrong. What a surprise! What are you doing here this fine day?”
She blinked. Her gaze dropped to his kilt and he waited for some pithy comment, but instead she said, “Shall we go for a stroll? Please, will you join Selina and me?”
“With pleasure.” He turned to Angus, who was observing them with amusement. “Angus? Will you stroll with us?”
Penelope arched a fair eyebrow. “You have not introduced us to your companion, MacKenzie. Who is this fellow?”
Damn, she was good!“This is Angus Grant, my manservant, bodyguard, and friend. Angus, this is Miss Penelope Armstrong, and Miss Selina...?
“Halliday,” Selina said, with a glance at Penelope. “I am Miss Armstrong’s maid, and although I would like to claim I am her bodyguard, I’m not sure what that entails.”
“You are my friend, too,” Penelope said quickly. “And I don’t think I need a bodyguard.”
“You never know,” Angus replied, with a wink at Selina. He gave a bow to them both. “Miss Armstrong. Miss Halliday.”
“Mr. Grant,” Penelope replied serenely.
Selina said nothing, seemingly fascinated by Angus’s legs. Callum could see that they were particularly hairy but surely not so different from anybody else’s. Hadn’t she seen a man’s legs before? But then he remembered how she had seemed fascinated by his bare chest and thought that perhaps she had not.
The formalities over, the four of them set out for their stroll, Callum and Penelope in the lead, and Angus and Selina following behind.
Callum tucked Penelope’s gloved hand into his elbow, and she didn’t demure. He also made sure to shorten his steps to match hers, ignoring the rude stares they were garnering. These were the sort of courtesies he would have shown back home at Bonnyrigg, and nothing to do with learning to be a gentleman. Perhaps he wasn’t such a brute after all.
“Is your family close by?” he said, thinking of his own. He couldn’t imagine not living near to his own family.
“No.” She gave him a sideways glance as if judging whether to share a confidence with him. Callum waited, hoping she would trust him. When she spoke, her voice was cool and matter-of-fact. “I am an orphan, MacKenzie. My parents were killed in a coach accident just over ten years ago.”
That shocked him. He tried to imagine it, his parents gone in a moment and him left alone in the world. The Scottish slang word slipped from his lips before he could stop it. “Jings!”
“I hope that wasn’t profane,” she said gravely, but her lips twitched as she restrained a smile.
“No, no, I was just surprised,” he assured her, recovering himself. “And you have no one else? No other family?”
“My brother, and I have an uncle.” Her expression altered slightly, and he thought that fact did not give her pleasure. Secrets. Penelope had secrets, and Callum wanted to know what they were. But he understood that quizzing people, unless you knew them very well, was impolite.
“Were you in the coach with your parents?” he asked instead, bending his head to listen to her reply. The feather in her bonnet tickled his nose and he tried not to sneeze.
“No. They were visiting friends, and my brother and I were at home. Mortimer was eight years old, so I took over his care.”
Her voice wobbled a little, and suddenly he longed to wrap his arms about her and hold her fast. To comfort her. But she recovered herself quickly, and he knew better than to persist with questions that she found distressing.
“Perhaps we should speak about your stay in London,” she said briskly in her teaching voice. “I want you to wax lyrical about the sights, MacKenzie. Pretend I am a possible wife and impress me.”
Callum smiled, but the trouble was he did not have to pretend. He wasn’t such a fool as to tell her so, but knowing how he felt confused him and worried him a little.
Wax lyrical . . .?
He did his best. As yet, he had not seen many of the popular sights, but he spoke of the ones he wouldliketo see. He was in the middle of a possible visit to the Tower of London, when a shout interrupted him.
“Damn it,” Penelope murmured irritably.
