He eyed the silver platter with the little fancy sandwiches that were hardly more than a bite. “Are there callers?”
“Just Miss Winslow. She and Miss Barclay are in the front parlor.”
“I will take the plate in.”
Her eyes widened. “Mr. Givens will not like it.”
Jamie laughed. “I left him a wee bit disheveled in the courtyard. I’m thinking the mon will nae want to put in an appearance at the moment.”
He picked up the platter before Una could protest further and headed toward the parlor. Mari would probably make some remark about being improperly dressed again, since he wore only his shirt, trews and boots. His mouth twitched at the thought of showing Mari whatundressedreally meant. He was half tempted to remove his shirt just to catch her reaction, but Miss Winslow was present. While it might be fun to rile Mari’s temper—he enjoyed the heated looks she probably didn’t know she was sending when she was angry—there was no point in having her friend swoon from shock.
Both girls looked up from the sofa as he entered, stopping their chatter abruptly. Mari’s mouth opened and then snapped shut.
Miss Winslow giggled. “Are you playing butler, Mr. MacLeod?”
He set the sandwiches down and took a seat across from them. “Givens is…indisposed.”
“Have you made the poor man practice swordplay again?” Mari asked, apparently having found her voice.
“He is getting better. He dinnae drop his sword this time.”
Miss Winslow giggled once more, but Mari shot him an annoyed look. “As I have explained before, Givens is not only a house servant, but as butler, he is in charge of the household staff. It is demeaning to expect him to engage in physical combat.”
Jamie lifted an eyebrow. “Mayhap I should take him to Gentleman Jack’s—”
“The pugilism place?” Mari stared at him. “You cannot be serious.”
“Why not? A mon should ken how to fight.”
“Really.” Mari’s eyes flashed blue flames. “Why do you think men must always fight? There are civilized ways to deal with problems. Violence is not the answer.”
Jamie shrugged, trying not to smile at Mari’s fiery reaction. He wondered if she’d have as much passion if he kissed her. The thought made his cock stir and he shifted in his chair. “Men are civilized only when they ken they will land on their arses—or worse.”
Maddie gasped. “Did you just say—”
“He did,” Mari interrupted. “There is no need for a repeat. Perhaps we could get back to a morecivilizeddiscussion without resorting to fisticuffs?”
Jamie grinned at her and stood. “I will leave you ladies to it then.” He turned as Mrs. Fields appeared in the doorway, the salver in her hand.
“Givens is freshening up,” she said to Mari, “but this just came in the post. I thought you might want it right away.”
Maddie clapped her hands. “Oooh. An invitation. Who sent it?”
Mari took the silver letter opener from the tray, slit the seal on the ivory envelope and then gave a shriek.
Jamie moved forward. “What is wrong, lass?”
She shook her head numbly as Maddie reached for the invitation. Jamie watched her eyes grew large. “Oh, my goodness. It is from Lady Jersey. She is hosting a rout this Friday and requests your presence.”
“Yes!” Mari reached out to hug her friend and they both screamed.
Jamie backed out of the room, covering his ears. For the love of St. Michael, why on earth would a lass scream about an invitation?
Even though the invitation had come directly from Lady Jersey, Mari was apprehensive about the party, but this time around, the atmosphere turned much more friendly. Several of Almack’s patronesses made a point to greet Mari at Lady Jersey’s rout, thus ensuring that other matrons of thetonwould not dare shun her—or do so at the risk of their daughters not receiving vouchers for the spring Season.
Even Violetta and Amelia engaged her in idle talk, although from the way their fans fluttered along with their eyelashes, Mari was pretty sure the chatter was more for Jamie’s benefit than hers since he was standing next to her.
She had to admit he cut a handsome figure, even if he refused to wear a cravat. The tartan sash seemed to intrigue the small bevy of girls clustered around him, or perhaps it was his Scottish burr. The soothing deepness of his voice did have a pronounced effect even on the matrons. The debutantes blushed and giggled when he called them lass. Mari frowned slightly. Really. Jamie calledherlass too. Did the girls have to act so silly over something that simple?
