Lysander sat forward; his eagerness plainly written across his expression. “Really? What’s her name? There’s got to be two dozen young ladies who attend various events, and I’ve missed plenty of them up ‘til now, with estate business.” His grin was huge. “I think I remember meeting the baroness’s daughters and thinking they were both beauties, but last night…”
As he blew out a fond breath, Max was surprised to feel…jealousy? Was he jealous that his brother had enjoyed so much success with his lady?
He’d seen Lysander dancing with the lady in pink, seen the two of them laughing together, and had even seen him pull her aside for a private conversation. He hadn’t seen what had come of it, but it had been clear Lysander had enjoyed himself at the ball.
And Max? Well, he’d danced with an absolutely intriguing redhead, who wore unusual footwear…but had then run from him. Not just from him, but from the ball, and from the castle. What had he done to warrant such an escape?
Uncomfortable, he shifted in the tub, the water spilling over the side once more. He couldn’t shake the idea she might’ve been in trouble and needed help, but he was unlikely to find her again, right?
Although…
His gaze cut to the dressing table again. She’d left something of hers behind, and if he were ever offered the chance to return it, he would. And he’d thank her for the most delicious dance and ask her about the business proposition she’d mentioned.
“Max?”
He started, remembering his brother was waiting for a response. “Aye, the older daughter’s name is Tiffany, I believe. I remember thinking she was a bit prideful, thanks to her beauty.”
“Haughty?” Lysander hummed. “Aye, that could be my angel. I’ll have to call on Baroness Oliphant at the inn and inquire after her daughter.”
Max sunk lower in the tub, aware that his bubble cover was diminishing as the water cooled. “So that’s where you’re off to today?”
His brother chuckled. “Nay, although I wish. I have to spend some time at my estate for a change, then back here for another of Lady Dumpkins’s grand hunts. Da is insisting I attend—since he’s sweet on the widow, he needs an excuse to stay at the house party. I told him ye were likely no’ to miss me.”
“I’ll miss ye terribly,deeply!” Max sighed with over-dramatic sorrow. “But somehow, I’ll console myself with the mountain of work I’ve got waiting for me at Oliphant Engraving.”
“Aye, that’s what I meant.” Lysander grinned. “Phin willnae be at the party much longer—he’s just waiting for Olive’s family to arrive so they can marry and head off to Egypt or China or wherever the Society is sending him.” With a flick of his fingers, Lysander dismissed what Max would have called the trip of a lifetime. “Lyon escorted Athena back to Newfincy last night, then went and hid himself at the auld estate. So I dinnae care if ye stay here in my absence, or move into yer own house, but when I get back, I’m dragging yer arse to the inn for an introduction.”
“Deal. Now go away.”
Lysander grinned. “I’m waiting to escort ye down to luncheon. If I have to sit around too many loud people with a headache, I insist on ye going with me.”
“I’m not getting out of this tub until you’re gone!”
“Why?” Lysander stood, making a nonchalant show of peering into the tub as Max sunk his chin below the water. “Ye havenae got anything I havenae seen already, do ye? I have more than one brother.”
Spitting water out of his mouth, Max glared. “Yeah, well, I’m new to the idea of having more than one, and the one I grew up with was an asshole. So hand me that towel and get out!”
Chuckling, Lysander snagged a towel off the top of a pile of fluffy white ones and tossed it underhanded toward Max’s head. Max had to scramble upright—more water splashed on the floor—to keep it from sailing past the tub.
“Thanks,” he muttered sarcastically.
“Dinnae mention it!” Lysander was on his way out the door. “Put yer trousers on and come downstairs to see me off, or I’ll believe ye’re pining for me.”
Max snorted and waited for his brother to close the door behind him before he stood. Pining forLysander? Unlikely. He’d spend the next week getting comfortable at Oliphant Engraving, settling into his new role, and he’d likely not think of Lysander a bit.
But he had to admit, therewereothers occupying his mind, as he used the towel to sluice water and bubbles from his skin. Such as that flustered serving girl in the ugly cap he’d bumped into yesterday at the inn. Or the redhead with the intriguing mask and shoes at the ball.
One was a lady and one was a servant, but they both had captured his attention. Maybe it was because, for most of his life, he’d been little more than a servant himself, but now he was rubbing elbows with lairds and Earls and dear God, he’d only narrowly missed having to socialize with the Duke again, hadn’t he?
With a sigh, Max stepped from the tub, careful to drip onto the towel he’d placed down for just that reason. He hung up the wet one he’d used, then grabbed a fresh one to wrap around his waist, tightening it securely, with a suspicious glance at the door, just in case Lysander returned.
Then he crossed to the dressing table and pulled open the top drawer. There, beside a guest shaving kit, lay a bundle wrapped in cotton.
Last night, after his intriguing dancing partner had run away, and he’d chased after her, she’d lost a shoe. And he, naturally,had picked it up. But with nowhere to put it, and unwilling to hand it over to a servant, Max had returned to the room he’d been loaned and had hidden it in the drawer.
Now, he withdrew it and carefully unwrapped the bundle. The shoe gleamed against the white cotton as he turned it first this way, then that. The lady Lysander had been dancing with—his pink angel, he’d called her—had been wearing unusual shoes as well. Butthisunusual?
This shoe was covered in red silk that had matched the lady’s hair. That, in itself, would’ve been unusual, but it was theheelwhich made it so intriguing. It had been made of metal and was engraved with intricate, perfect little gears.
