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Sophronie moved hesitantly into the room. It suddenly struck Evan that this was the first time he’d seen her uncertain around other people. Heretofore she’d always presented herself with confidence many a man would envy.

At once, Evan stood and circuited the table. “Come in, Miss Slater. Allow me to introduce ye to my family.”

The delicate flare of her lips turned upward in appreciation caused the weirdest sensation behind his breastbone. Pray God he wasn’t ailing.

Evan quickly introduced her to his large family.

“I’ve been askin’ the Good Lord to restore yer father’s health, child,” Grandmother Gordonstone said, taking Miss Slater’s measure.

“We all have,” Sarah put in with a friendly smile.

“Thank you.” Sophronie returned her smile. “Papa is doing ever so much better. Please accept my apologies for not becoming acquainted sooner.”

“Pish posh, my dear,” Aunt Katryne said. “We understand completely. Family is everythin’.”

Her eyes grew soft as she took in those around the table.

“Do dish up and join us, Miss Slater,” Mother instructed.

Evan would wager she was grateful for their guest’s timely interruption. It put an end to the discussion about the contest next week.

“Tea or coffee, miss?” Blige asked.

“Coffee with cream—that is, milk, please.”

“Ah, yes. Ye Americans like yer coffee,” Aunt Christina said. “Do ye really prefer it with cream rather than milk?”

As she added ham, potatoes, and toast to her plate, Sophronie nodded. “Many Americans do. Some prefer molasses rather than sugar as a sweetener too.”

There was only one empty chair beside Larissa and to Evan’s left. He pulled out the chair, and she sank onto the seat. No sooner had she placed her napkin in her lap than Grandmother Gordonstone banged the table with the handle of her knife. “Tell me, lass. Have ye truly jumped a horse?”

Miss Slater cast Evan a swift, guarded glance.

With the merest shifting of his gaze, he sent her a silent message to say nothing on the subject, which, of course, she chose to ignore.

“Yes. Though I’ve never ridden a thoroughbred in a competition, in America, I’ve ridden horses on regular tracks as well as hunter’s and other jumping courses.”

“But do ye win, lass?” Grandmother Larimore asked dubiously. “Prettily trottin’ a docile pony along a well-groomed path or riding sidesaddle doesna count.”

After an almost indecipherable hesitation, Miss Slater nodded and studiously avoided looking in Evan’s direction. “In America, yes. Several times, in truth.”

“I told ye so,” Rosalind said triumphantly. She grinned at Miss Slater. “Ye’re a woman after my own heart, Miss Slater.”

“Fascinatin’,” Larissa said.

“Miss Slater and her father raise and race horses in America.” Evan tried to steer the conversation in another direction. Mother gripped her fork so tightly, her knuckles shone white, and she appeared on the verge of apoplexy. “She and I have had our sights set on the same horse more than once while they’ve been visitin’.”

Aunt Christina gave Sophronie a shrewd, considering look. “Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.”

“Indeed,” Aunt Katryne inserted with a teasing smile. “A most brilliant match.”

Only a dimwit could’ve missed their insinuation.

Color skated up Miss Slater’s smooth cheeks, and she focused on cutting her ham.

Evan gave his aunts a warning look.

“What’s that?” Grandmother Larimore bellowed. “Did ye say Evan and Miss Slater have made a match? Why dinna anyone tell me there is to be a weddin’?”