Angela tilted her head. “Can I help?”
“I must puzzle it out on my own.” She thought of Dougal walking the machair of Caransay deep in the night, puzzling out his theorems as well as his feelings for her. Seeing Angela’s keen glance, Meg smiled brightly. “You are always a help. We had best hurry. We are expected at the opening of the new exhibit at the National Museum of Antiquities. They have some recently discovered Celtic treasures which I hear are quite stunning.”
“I am looking forward to it. The museum directors are delighted to have you attend, madam, since you and MathesonBank are major contributors to the museum. They may ask you to say a few words.”
“I shall decline, but I will sponsor their work most generously if they allow me anonymity.”
“Some members of the bank’s board plan to attend the exhibit’s opening, as well. I know that Sir John Shaw and Sir Roderick Matheson are both invited.”
The rhythm of Meg’s step faltered slightly as she walked arm in arm with Angela. “How nice it will be to escape from the concerns of the party for a little while.”
*
“Lady Strathlin, whata joy to see you again,” Sir Roderick said as he stepped out from behind a stone column. The museum’s bright, spacious foyer was crowded with ladies and gentlemen attending the opening. Sunlight beamed over golden stone, green ferns, and the cheerful colors in the ladies’ dresses and bonnets.
“Sir Roderick,” Meg looked up at him from under the brim of her dark-blue bonnet. “I did not expect to see you here.”
He doffed his top hat politely. “I am here to represent the bank. And glad to have a moment to speak with you. Have you thought about my proposal?”
She stared up at him. In the shadow of the huge column and lost in the noise of the echoing room, their conversation was private. But she stepped away from the column, looking around for Angela Shaw or any other acquaintance nearby.
“I have given your suggestion some thought,” she said carefully. “But I am not ready to talk about it. Certainly not here,” she added, waving a hand toward the crowd admiring the contents of a series of glass display cases containing artifacts in stone, silver, gold, and enamel.
“Of course not, my dear,” Matheson said. “I only wanted to remind you.”
“How could I possibly forget? Ah, Mrs. Shaw!” she called. Angela turned to glide toward them, her black bombazine skirt and purple-and-black bonnet a somber note in the bright, sunny foyer.
“My dear Margaret, I look forward to hearing your answer.” Roderick then took Angela’s gloved hand cordially. “Mrs. Shaw, how delightful to see you.” He turned to Meg. “I so look forward to your soiree, Lady Strathlin. We are to attend in grand full dress following Miss Lind’s concert, I take it?”
“The details of dress are on your invitation card.”
“Indeed. Please accept my apology, for I must run. I have an appointment with Mr. Stewart this afternoon. I believe you know him, madam.”
Meg smothered a gasp. “Mr. Dougal Stewart? I do.”
“He and I have some business matters to discuss, now that he finds himself in a state of near ruin. I understand that he is coming to your soiree. That should prove interesting.”
“Near ruin?” Meg stared up at him.
“Thanks to you and your solicitors. I suppose your advocates work independently for your benefit, sparing you the details. He needs funds for his project.”
“I hadn’t been told yet.” Meg felt Angela watching her with a slight frown. Meg wondered in a growing panic what her solicitors had done.
Roderick tipped the brim of his hat again. “Your lawyers have triumphed over Mr. Stewart at last. We shall talk further, dearest Margaret,” he said, taking her hand and bowing. “Mrs. Shaw.” He turned away to stride through the crowd.
Meg watched his tall black form as he cut a path through the bright crowd. She looked at Angela.
“I despise that oily snake,” Angela murmured. Meg blinked, surprised to hear that from her demure friend. “I hope you will not consider marrying him. He tells everyone you are head over heels in love with him.”
“I am not,” Meg said firmly.
“I did not think so.” Angela took her arm. “Have you seen the beautiful jewelry in the exhibit? You must come look. And I’ve found Mr. Hamilton, who is talking with the antiquarian who discovered some of the artifacts herself. She is lovely and delightful. Her name is Mrs. Christina Blackburn. Mr. Hamilton can introduce you. The Blackburns are rather famous as an artistic family, although she is not an artist.”
“Ah, yes. Her father was a brilliant painter. I own a seascape by him.”
“Her late husband was an artist as well. She is the lovely brunette standing over there with Mr. Hamilton and the tall blond gentleman. That is Dr. Connor MacBain.”
“Oh I know the name,” Meg said. “He has an excellent reputation, but we have never met.” She remembered Dougal once mentioning a cousin was the wife of Dr. MacBain in Edinburgh. Her heart beat faster. Dougal’s cousin. “Is there—anyone else here whom we should see?”
