Anna could scarcely contain a snort at that under-statement. “Yes, I imagine you are adept at feigning all manner of things.”
“And I’ll kindly spare yer tender feelings by no’ telling you just how many things I must feign when I am near ye, Miss Addison.”
Lady Seaton continued assigning the procession.
“And, Mr. Lockhart, would you do the honor of escorting Miss Lucy Addison?” Lady Seaton asked.
“I could not possibly be more delighted,” Drake said, stepping forward to receive Lucy’s perfect and dainty little curtsey.
Anna couldn’t help herself; she immediately looked away, her gaze inadvertently landing on the Imposter again, who was actually smiling. “Foiled again, aye?”
“I beg your pardon, but do you mind?” she whispered hotly.
“No’ at all. But I’ve a wee suggestion for ye, Miss Addison,” he said amicably. “Ye might smile at the lad now and again, as ye really are quite a bonny lass when ye smile.”
This time Anna could not contain her small groan of exasperation. “Do you take me for a fool, Ardencaple? Do you really think your flattery will induce me to find you agreeable? I shall advise you to try something else, for I will not, no matter how hard you wish it, become my sister.”
The moment the words fell blithely off her tongue, she wanted them back.
Certainly her remark sparked something in his eyes; he looked at her so pointedly that she actually flinched a little. “I didna think for a moment that I should be as fortunate as that, ye wee bana-bhuidseach. I had every confidence ye’d remain sharp-tongued and entirely too vexing all yer natural days.”
Whatever it was he called her, she felt his complete censure and did not think it a compliment. She inched away from him. “You may call me what you will,” she said in a low voice, “but at least I can rest easy in the fact that I am honest, my lord.”
His face darkened terribly, but he said nothing as Lady Seaton called the last couple. “Mr. Fynster-Allen, would you be so kind as to escort Miss Crabtree? Lovely. And now, if you will all please follow me to the billiard room!”
They walked down a long hall, past the formal dining room where voices were already raised in merriment. Anna could feel the Lying Scotsman’s body stiff beside her, could feel his loathing practically emanating from him, and while she shouldn’t have cared in the least… she did. She was really quite bothered by it.
Fortunately, in the dining room, she was seated directly across from Lord Ardencaple, and next to Mr. Fitzwater, a gentleman of means who had offered for her two Seasons ago. Anna and Mr. Fitzwater made polite conversation through the first course of turtle soup while Lord Ardencaple, she couldn’t help but notice, was charming the ringlets from Miss Daphne Dorchester’s head.
As the footmen cleared the soup and began to serve the main course, Anna noticed farther down the table, Lockhart had eyes for only Lucy, seated directly across from him and gaily holding court with Mr. Bradenton on her right and Lord Nickson on her left. The whole room seemed to be having an extraordinarily gay evening; even Mr. Fynster-Allen and Miss Crabtree, perhaps the two shyest people in all of London, were actually tittering with one another as if they were old friends.
The single exception to the gaiety seemed to be Anna and Mr. Fitzwater, the latter continually mopping his brow with his napkin, as if she were somehow causing him distress.
It was Mr. Bradenton, surprisingly enough, who enlivened the affair by asking the Lying Scotsman about his estate. “Is Scotland your primary residence, my lord, or do you intend to make London your home?”
Ooh, excellent question, and one Anna wished she’d thought of.
“Ah,” the Imposter said, lifting his flute of Madeira to Bradenton, “I canna deny London has her appeal,” he said, shifting a smile to Elizabeth Seaton, “but Scotland has me heart, sir.”
Elizabeth sighed.
“How poetic,” Anna muttered.
“But you seem to enjoy your time abroad,” a woman observed, and Anna snorted into her wine.
“Aye, of course,” Ardencaple said. “In fact, I canna go abroad as often as I’d like, no’ with me duties and all. Yet I suppose I travel enough to keep abreast of the news of acquaintances.”
“Beyond England?” another guest asked.
“Oh, aye. The Continent, quite frequently.”
Ah, so now it was the Continent, was it? If he’d been beyond the Strand, she’d be quite surprised. “à quelle distance se trouve Ardencaple?” she suddenly asked in French.
Lucy’s head snapped up, and she openly glared down the table at Anna.
Ardencaple, however, seemed not the least bit disturbed and smiled cheerfully. “How far to Ardencaple? Why, Miss Addison, I confess, I havena measured it,” he said, drawing a polite round of laughter.
“But you would put it very near the Highlands, wouldn’t you?”