Leonidas, his oldest brother and their father’s heir, who’d lost his love and nearly his life in the fire which scarred him horribly, and who rarely left the ancient ruins of their ancestral home. The dobber had become cold and reclusive, and Phin hated how little they saw of one another these days.
Lysander, the oldest son of the laird’s second wife, and thus a viscount in his own right. He was charismatic and suave, andprided himself on not only his fashion sense, but his charm and appeal when it came to the ladies.
“And of course ye’ve met Athena—she’s no’ attending the house party with Lysander and me, but she’ll pop over every once in a while for specific events. She doesnae like to leave—” Phineas bit down on the wordswee Callan,and substituted, “Newfincy Castle for verra long. Da’s estate isnae too far from here, so she can travel back and forth in an hour or so.”
Olive had been nodding along, as if she recognized—or at least understood—the descriptions of his siblings. “And this newest brother of yours? Is he attending the house party?”
“Max? Nay, he is busy working.”
Phin found himself telling her how his father had called them together near the end of spring, to introduce them to the man their third cousin once removed, Andrew Prince, had hired to run Oliphant Engraving, a young American with a quiet strength, bold language, and eyes and features which matched Da’s.
“Max isnae the first surprise brother to pop up, ye understand,” he said in a low voice to Olive, “and it’s obvious the only thing he wants from us is acceptance. Easy enough to give.” He shrugged. “What’s one more brother? I’m lucky to have so many to love.”
She was watching him from the corner of her eye. “What a truly unique perspective, Mr. Oliphant. I have five siblings, and sometimes cannot stand any of them. Your acceptance of this Mr. DeVille speaks well of you.”
A little embarrassed, Phin found himself shrugging off her praise. “He’s an easy man to like, and I’ve enjoyed speaking withhim. His plans for the factory are interesting, and he’s no’ a bad dancer either.”
Her chuckle was encouraging. “Truly the worth of a great man. Your father—he is lord of the Oliphant clan?”
“Laird,” he corrected gently, leaning slightly so his dish could be removed and the next course placed before them. “In Scotland, we have lords—mostly Earls—and lairds. Da happens to be both, but there’s so many bloody earls up there—pardon my language—that it’s impossible to keep track of which one is which.”
“Earl Somebody-or-Other,” Olive offered with a shy smile. “I can see why ‘Laird’ is a more convenient title. My father is a mere baronet, granted by the Queen after he impressed her with a rose he named after Princess Beatrice.”
“A botanist named L’arbre…” Phin frowned thoughtfully as he reached for his wineglass. “Yer surname means ‘tree’, does it no’?”
To his surprise, her lips pinched together in displeasure moments before she snapped, “Huzzah for you; you speak French!”
He blinked, and she winced. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she offered a quick apology. “I am sorry, Mr. Oliphant. That was rude of me. I am just used to being defensive when it comes to my name.”
He liked that she owned her mistakes. “Why?”
“You would be too if your father had a terrible sense of humor and your mother indulged him,” she said with a rueful smile. “My brothers are Rowan, Ash and Cedar, and my sisters are Willow and Hazel.”
Ah. He was beginning to understand. “And Olive. Ye’re all trees then?”
“My father, the lucky blighter, is a William.” She sighed. “I have always disliked my name. Willows are—well, willowy—and hazels are strong. Olives are…what?”
Without thinking, he answered with a grin. “Delicious.”
By Zeus, but he was coming to love the way her eyes—a warm dark brown a man could get lost in—widened whenever he said something mildly shocking. She was a delight to gently tease, and each time she sucked on that bottom lip, his cock stirred.
“Mr. Oliphant, I…”
He wanted to tell her to call him Phin, but he also wanted to set her at ease, so he shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “I love to travel, Miss L’arbre. Some of my favorite cuisines of the Mediterranean involve olives, so ye’ll forgive me if I disagree with ye. Olive trees are among my favorites.”
“Oh,” she breathed, looking at him with something akin to wonder, and he wasn’t certain if it was thanks to his compliment or some other reason.
“Well,” he said briskly, toasting her with his wine glass, “we’ve exhausted our families and the weather. What should we speak about next?”
“Roman architecture,” she declared promptly.
“I— What?”
“Earlier, I was trying to decide what would be the best topics of conversation, and I made a mental note of Roman architecture.Since you seemed to know something of— Oh dear. Am I blabbering?”
This last was said in response to the expression on his face, which Phin was certain was one of incredulousness. What a remarkable young woman. She thought things through so thoroughly and even made mental lists of things as simple as topics of conversation at meals.
How rather likehim.
