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With a reluctant sigh, he looked searchingly at her half-turned profile. "Are you sure something is not amiss, and that your earlier encounters with these scholarly Scots haven't in some way overset you?"

She started. "Oh, no," she repeated, with some force. "I fear I was thinking on why the young lady would feel the need to request a private audience with you to discuss gardens."

Adrian gave a wry grimace. "I have long since abandoned any hope of understanding the working of the female mind." His light tone was designed to elicit at least an answering smile, but she remained staring straight ahead, her only reaction to his attempt at humor was a slight tremor of her jaw.

He gave up trying to probe any further and lapsed into his own moody silence.

It was with some gratitude that he saw Rafael disengage himself from a heated discussion on the merits of salmon fishing on the River Tay and make his way toward them. They then proceeded to where several tables had been set up with a veritable groaning board of food.

"I had best rejoin Mama now," said Honoria in a low voice, glancing nervously at where Lady Dunster sat off to one side of several couples. "She is not as yet comfortable with the local ladies."

Was it his imagination, wondered Adrian, or did he detect a note of relief at finding an excuse to quit his company? "Of course," he murmured politely. "Shall Rafe and I fix a selection for the two of you or do you wish to sit for a bit before partaking in the repast?"

"I shall ask Mama what she prefers."

As he and his friend strolled away, Adrian's gaze flitted from where Honoria sat in rigid correctness next to her mother, hands folded demurely in her lap, to where Derrien was sprawled—none too ladylike—on a blanket laid out on the grass, engaged in what looked to be an animated debate with Ferguson.

He drew in a sharp breath, wondering why it was he found himself wishing?—

Wishing what?

Adrian gave an inward sigh. Honesty compelled him to admit that after he fetched a glass of the local ale, he would have vastly preferred taking a seat on the ground by the maddening Miss Edwards to heading to the table set up for the comfort of the English visitors.

He found himself wondering what topic of conversation was bringing such a spark to those flashing eyes.

As he took the glass that Rafael had just passed to him, a sudden trill of laughter from Derrien caught his attention, and he realized the sound was far more intoxicating than any amount of spirits.

The young lady might be outspoken, hot tempered and given to decidedly hoydenish behavior—in short, all the things he did not wish for in a female.

But she was also intelligent, sensitive and undeniably passionate in her opinions.

Damnation, he thought with some vehemence, raising the glass and draining half its contents in one gulp. She was intriguing!

Rafael cleared his throat. "You might want to wipe the scowl from your face.

You are supposed to be putting aside your troubles for the afternoon, remember?

" He slanted a sideways glance at Lady Hylton's pinched countenance, and added, "Though I vow, the prospect of such a mother-in-law might drive me to strong drink. "

Adrian growled something unintelligible in reply. His friend hadn't the slightest notion just which lady it was that was having such an effect on his thoughts, and he intended it to remain that way.

"Come," he said gruffly. "I suppose we had better see which delicacies Honoria and her mother would care to sample."

Plates were fixed for the ladies, and the two gentlemen dutifully took their places next to them. The buzz of voices punctuated the clink of silverware and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze as everyone settled down to the sumptuous array of food.

The meal was well under way when the sound of an approaching horse and rider caused a lull in the conversation.

An elegantly dressed gentleman appeared at the far end of the ruins and, with a wave of greeting to the group, dismounted from his glossy stallion and began to approach.

Removing his curly brimmed beaver hat, he ran a hand through his cropped chestnut locks and inclined an elegant bow in the direction of the host.

"Ah, Lord Hertford! Glad you could join us. I thought I had heard that you recently arrived in town," called the baronet. "Though it seems you have come north a tad earlier than you are usually wont to do."

The gentleman brushed a bit of dust from the sleeve of his immaculately tailored hacking jacket and surveyed the assembled group, his eyes lingering for a second on the viscount before sweeping by with nary a flicker of acknowledgement.

"Yes," he replied nonchalantly, his lips pulling into an enigmatic half smile as he tapped his crop against his polished Hessians.

"I must say, St. Andrews suddenly seemed a much more rewarding place to be than London.

" He smoothed at a fold in his starched cravat.

"After all, Scotland affords such a wealth of pleasures for a keen sportsman, don't you think? "