Provoked (13 page)

“What now?” he asked.

“You dance with the Galbraith lass? See what you can find out from her?” Euan suggested.

“All right. You could come and meet her too, if you like,” David said.

Euan paused for a long moment, then shook his head. “I don’t want her to see me. I’m thinking that I could follow her after the assembly—watch her house for a bit. If Lees is that keen on her, hopefully he’ll turn up there at some point. It’s my best chance of finding him. He’s not going to turn up here tonight, not now.”

David nodded. “Agreed. All right, I’ll go back now. My set with Miss Galbraith is the one after this one. I’ll see what I can find out from her before we go.”

Isabella Galbraith was ten times more beautiful than her friend Elizabeth, and just as many times colder. When David arrived to claim her for their set, she stated baldly that she had a headache coming on and didn’t feel terribly like dancing. Undaunted by her rudeness—though Elizabeth looked mortified on his behalf—David proposed a stroll around the ballroom instead, suggesting it might help clear her head.

Miss Galbraith couldn’t say no to that without being even more obviously rude. She stood reluctantly, placed her hand on the arm David offered, and they began to slowly perambulate the room.

For a few minutes, David kept the conversation light and general. Miss Galbraith was coolly polite and almost monosyllabic in her responses. Eventually, he decided to take a more direct tack.

“Have you spent much time in London, Miss Galbraith? Your father is a politician, is he not?”

“I’ve spent some time there,” she replied. “But I prefer Edinburgh.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

She was very lovely, but her smile was like a little bit of winter. “The young ladies of London are chiefly concerned with fashion and entertainment, I find.”

It was the first chink he’d seen in her formidable armour. A slight, distant smile graced her pretty lips, and her gaze was aloof. She was proud, this one. Confident of her superiority to everyone around her.

“Perhaps that is the sort of lady London gentlemen prefer?” David offered.

“Not all of them,” she answered too quickly to have given the question any real thought.

“No?” He was used to reading people in court. And he sensed in Isabella Galbraith a desire to confide, to boast, one that possibly warred with a need to be discreet. It was perhaps no bad thing that she considered him so below her notice.

“Some gentlemen like ladies who are well educated and who have opinions of their own,” she said, and there was a hint of reproof in her voice, as though she thought he must reside in the other camp.

“Having had the privilege of conversing with Miss Chalmers on several occasions,” David said truthfully, “I have certainly found her opinions most stimulating. You and Miss Chalmers were educated together, were you not?”

“We were.” Miss Galbraith’s smile was minutely warmer now. “At Miss Stair’s Seminary.”

David steered Miss Galbraith round a group of gentlemen who noted her beauty with covert glances though their conversation continued without pause. Once past them, David pressed home his advantage.

“So, do I take it that you have met at least
one
gentleman in London who is stimulated not only by beauty but also by intelligence?”

She actually blushed at that question, her eyelids lowering briefly to mask her gaze from him. Her proud expression seemed to soften a little.

“Perhaps,” she said, then added breezily, “They are not all dandies and rakes, at any rate.”

“No,” David dared. “Take Lord Murdo, for example.”

She glanced at him sharply, and he maintained his bland look with difficulty.

“I’m not sure what you seek to make Lord Murdo an example of, Mr. Lauriston,” she said. “Perhaps you could explain.”

“I just meant he seems an intelligent fellow,” David replied carefully, aware he’d somehow put her on her guard.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Miss Galbraith replied tartly. Her manner suggested she knew him well and that there was little love lost between them. On her side at least.

“Have you known him long?” David dared, adding, “He mentioned he knew you when I dined with the Chalmers earlier this week.”

“Oh, I’ve known Lord Murdo for years. He’s older than me, but our families are well acquainted. His aunt and my mother are particular friends.” She paused, then added, “I’ve seen him more often lately. It seems that everywhere I turn, there he is!” She gave a nervous laugh then, and it was perhaps the most betraying thing of all in their conversation.

He realised that she didn’t like Balfour one little bit.

David didn’t get any more out of Miss Galbraith. They finished their perambulation of the ballroom, and he delivered her back to her mother, who was in conversation with Balfour and Elizabeth Chalmers. They stopped talking as David and Miss Galbraith drew closer, and Balfour glanced at David, raising a brow. “Dancing again, Lauriston?”

David smiled politely. “Miss Galbraith did not care to dance. We took a stroll about the ballroom instead.”

“You don’t care to dance, Bella?” Balfour said. “What nonsense is this?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me Bella,” she said curtly.

“Isabella.” Her mother said her name so blandly that it could almost not have been a reproof, but Miss Galbraith flushed.

Balfour frowned. “I’ve called you Bella since we were children.”

David saw her making an effort to be calm and ladylike. “Well, I’m not a child anymore,” she said quietly. “Isabella will do very well.”

“Very well. Have it your way. Isabella it shall be—in public.” He flicked a speck of lint from his immaculate black evening coat. “But you can’t stop me thinking of you as Bella.”

She scowled, and her mother laughed. “It’s refreshing to see you around my daughter, Lord Murdo. I grow tired of tripping over young men kissing the hem of her gown.”

Miss Galbraith’s jaw tightened, and Balfour smiled enigmatically. “Oh, it’s hardly surprising, ma’am,” he said. “Bella—sorry, Isabella—is so very beautiful. Hem-kissing is practically compulsory in such circumstances.”

Mrs. Galbraith laughed again, but her daughter looked irritable, and David felt something close to nausea twist in his guts.

“It’s too bad of you to tease her so, my lord,” Elizabeth Chalmers said, smiling in that calm way of hers. “I’m not surprised she prefers to be called Isabella. It’s a very noble name, I think.”

“Quite so,” Balfour said, smothering a smile. “And well said, Miss Chalmers.”

Two new gentlemen arrived then, to claim both young ladies for the next set. Isabella demurred, pleading the headache again, and her partner withdrew. David heard her mother chiding her as she drew her away to sit down.

“Please excuse me,” David said, smiling at Elizabeth and her partner and ignoring Balfour. “I must find my friend again. We have to be on our way soon.”

Elizabeth halted as her partner attempted to lead her away, a little pucker between her brows. “Oh, Mr. Lauriston, must you leave so soon?” she exclaimed.

“I’m afraid so. I did say I would leave with my friend.”

“Oh, what a shame!”

“The music is starting, Miss Chalmers,” her partner said anxiously, and she looked at him as though she’d forgotten he was there. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, Mr. MacNeill! We mustn’t miss our dance.” She threw one last look at David as her partner led her away. “Good night, Mr. Lauriston. I hope we will see you again soon.”

“Good night, Miss Chalmers.”

David made to walk away then, but Balfour’s voice in his ear, at once soft and oddly threatening, halted him in his tracks.

“Is your friend the fair-headed youth I saw you with earlier?”

David turned to face him. Although there was no smile on the other man’s face—no expression at all, in fact—there was a trace of amusement there. This was, David realised, Balfour’s basic expression. Anything else the man showed was a layer on top. It made him look as though he was perpetually at one remove from everyone and everything. Always superior, always observing.

“Yes, that’s him,” David said shortly. “And he’s waiting for me, so if you’ll excuse—”

“Is he your lover?”

David laughed in surprise. It was so absurd. “What on earth—”

“Is he?” Balfour was still faintly smiling, but the question emerged like a bullet from a musket, setting David back on his heels. He couldn’t imagine where this had come from, but he didn’t like the focused interest Balfour was showing in Euan MacLennan.

“He’s a pretty lad,” Balfour went on. “How long have you known him?”

“Awhile,” David said shortly. “If you’ll excuse me—”

Balfour’s hand shot out, gripping David’s upper arm.

Astonished, David tugged his arm free. “How dare you!” he hissed. He cast a nervous glance around, wondering if anyone had noticed Balfour’s sudden aggression.

“Are you lovers or not?”

David stared at the other man. Was there a hint of strain in the faint smile that played over Balfour’s well-shaped mouth? After a moment, David stepped back, putting two feet of clear space between them, and made a brief, watchful bow.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, ignoring Balfour’s question, “I really must be going.”

And with that, he turned and walked quickly away.

Chapter Ten

David found Euan hovering on the edges of the same large group as before, shoulders hunched, lips pinched closed. He wasn’t comfortable in these surroundings, among these people. If he still wanted to join the Kirk, he would have to become so at some stage.

“There you are,” Euan said, looking relieved as David approached. Under his breath, he added, “Did you find out anything useful?”

“No,” David replied shortly, striving to disguise how shaken he felt after that odd exchange with Balfour. “Come on. I’ll tell you about it outside.”

They collected their coats and hats and emerged into a cold, clear night. A row of carriages stretched down George Street, waiting for their owners to reclaim them. Did one of those carriages belong to Balfour, David wondered? Balfour’s house was very close but his very proper evening slippers were quite inappropriate for damp, chilly cobbles. David couldn’t imagine Balfour would be going home on foot.

David’s footwear might not be as elegant as Balfour’s, but it was eminently more suited to walking, and his heavy greatcoat was a welcome guard against the cold. He eyed Euan’s thinner version with concern.

“You must be freezing.”

“I’m fine,” Euan replied with a tight smile. “You must’ve gone soft if you think this is cold.” But David saw him shiver and bury his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll bet that room of yours is freezing in this weather,” David said, knowing that Euan’s “room” was probably no better than a space on a bare floor.

The lad shrugged. “The cold doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re welcome to stay with me,” David offered with studied casualness. “I can’t offer you a proper bed, but I could make you a reasonably comfortable pallet on the floor. You won’t freeze at least.”

Euan shook his head. “I want to see where this Galbraith lass lives. I’m going to wait till she comes out and follow her home.”

“Tonight? Is that really necessary? You know she lives on Heriot Row. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find her tomorrow.”

“I’d rather do it now, when it’s dark,” Euan insisted. “Loitering round that fancy part of town during the day when someone might see me isn’t a good idea.”

“As opposed to loitering out here now, waiting for people to leave an assembly? Believe me, this looks just as suspicious, if not more.”

“I know that.” Euan frowned, his brows drawing together. “But I’m not going to hang around out here. I’m going to hide in that close over there. Come on, I’ll show you.”

He grabbed David’s sleeve and towed him across the street, pulling him into a narrow close opposite the Assembly Rooms. Although the darkness swallowed them up quickly, they could still see the well-lit entrance reasonably well from their shadows.

“You see? I’ll watch the entrance from here,” Euan said softly. “Then follow her home.”

“She probably has a carriage waiting,” David pointed out.

“I can run. I’m fast too.”

David peered at Euan. He couldn’t make out much in the shadows, just the languid slouch of his long body against the close wall and the glitter of his eyes as he turned to look at David.

“But—why? Do you really think Lees will turn up at her house? It seems unlikely, don’t you think? He didn’t come tonight.”

A shrug. “He might, and that makes it worthwhile trying. You found the Galbraith girl, even though you didn’t expect to.”

“And what will you do if he turns up?”

“I’ll follow him. Find out his direction.”

David paused. “Then what?”

Silence. Euan shifted against the wall, hunching his shoulders more.

“Euan, you promised me that you’d do nothing rash without speaking to me first.”

“I know.”

“So, if you track down Lees, you’ll
come and speak to me before you do anything else? Yes?”

After an uneasy pause, Euan spoke, reluctance in his tone. “Davy, if I can, I will, but it may not be easy. If I only get one chance to—”

“No!” David interrupted. “You promised me, Euan. It’s all I’ve asked of you.”

Euan levered himself off the wall, shaking his head. He huffed out a sigh. “I shouldn’t’ve promised you that.” He sounded resentful. “But I did. So yes, if I find him, I’ll tell you first. Will that do?”

“Thank you,” David said gravely. “That’s all I ask.”

“You might as well go home, then.” Euan sounded almost sullen. “No sense two of us freezing, especially when you think it’s such a waste of time.”

David sighed. “I’ll wait with you a bit, if you like,” he offered. “For company.”

Another shrug. “It’s up to you.”

David took that unenthusiastic response as agreement and pulled his coat more tightly about himself. The night really was cold, with a deep, damp chill in the air that would permeate the marrow of a man’s bones if he stood in it long enough.

“What did the Galbraith lassie say when you danced with her?” Euan asked after a while. He was leaning on the wall again, his face turned away, watching the entrance of the Assembly Rooms.