Page 20 of Provoked
“My wife has been detained a moment. She will be back in a—”
“Good heavens, Lord Murdo! How mortifying that I wasn’t here to greet you!” Mrs. Chalmers bustled into the room, her voice high and excited, her colour up. “So good of you to come! You have met my husband?”
Balfour smiled at her. “We have introduced ourselves, Mrs. Chalmers. How nice to see you again.”
Mrs. Chalmers gave an oddly girlish titter. “Well, then, I only need to introduce you to our daughters, my lord. They are all very excited to meet you.”
“Don’t forget Mr. Lauriston, Mother,” Elizabeth said, earning herself a maternal frown. She wasn’t to know that David was only too happy to linger in the background.
Good God, the man was alord. The younger son of a marquess. He hadn’t divulged that nugget at the inn in Stirling.
Balfour’s attention wandered back to David, despite being surrounded by the Chalmers girls—yes, he knew who David was all right. Their gazes met over one of the younger girl’s heads, and David couldn’t look away. His attention was snagged, like cloth catching on a nail.
It was only for a moment, but it felt like forever that they stared at each other. As for Balfour, he didn’t smile as such, but there was something in his face. Something still and knowing, though he was the first to look away.
Eventually it was David’s turn to be introduced to the guest of honour.
“And this is Mr. Lauriston,” Mrs. Chalmers said in her most chilly voice as she approached him, Balfour at her side. “He’s working on a case with Mr. Chalmers at present.” She paused, then added grudgingly, “Mr. Lauriston, Lord Murdo Balfour.”
Balfour put out his hand, the hint of a smile playing over his well-shaped lips. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Lauriston.”
His hand was steady. His voice likewise, the warm depth of it caressing, that English-sounding accent smooth and mellifluous, so foreign compared to the clipped cadence of everyone else in the room.
David forced his own hand out. “And I you, my lord.” Balfour’s grip was warm, firm.
As David drew away, he thought that Balfour—he couldn’t think of him by any other name—gave his hand the lightest press. But the man’s expression remained so politely distant that afterwards David wondered if he’d imagined it.
After that, Balfour was swallowed up by the females in the party again, particularly the three younger ladies. They peppered him with questions about his life in London and his journey north, while David stood quietly by and watched.
When they went in to dinner, David discovered that he’d been sandwiched between the two youngest daughters, Maria and Jane. The older girls had pride of place on either side of Balfour.
The meal felt interminable. David had enjoyed Elizabeth’s company at Jeffrey’s house but Maria and Jane had no interest in anything other than gowns and hair ribbons and who had danced with who at some assembly they’d attended the previous week. David sat, morosely silent, and soon they cut him out of the conversation altogether, simply leaning past him to talk to each other, while he tried to listen to the others at the table.
“I gather your father’s estate is in Argyllshire, my lord,” Mrs. Chalmers said to Balfour. “It is so far from here! May I ask what has drawn you to Edinburgh?”
Balfour smiled. “I have some friends here, ma’am. But the chief reason for my visit is to see the fair city itself.” He paused and looked round the table at the ladies. “I think I have been lucky to see some of its beauty here this evening.”
Mrs. Chalmers tittered. “You are very kind.”
Chalmers spoke then. “You have friends in Edinburgh, my lord?” he asked politely.
“Yes, sir. As your lady wife already knows, we have a connection in common. Sir Edward Galbraith is a longstanding friend of my father.”
Chalmers looked more interested at this. “You know Sir Edward, do you? We were on opposite sides of many cases. A fine opponent, he was. A shame he gave the law up. He was a very fine advocate.”
Balfour smiled. “He has put his debating talents to good use in Parliament, though. My father and his friends are glad of his skills as an orator.”
“I daresay,” Chalmers replied. “He always was a persuasive fellow. Your father is in politics, then?”
Balfour waved his hand. “He holds some small office in government.” A careless smile. “I can never remember the title. Politics doesn’t interest me, I’m afraid.”
“Not everyone cares for matters of State, it’s true,” Chalmers replied in a neutral tone, before returning his attention to his roast pigeon.
“Sir Edward’s daughter and I went to the same ladies’ seminary,” Elizabeth interjected.
Balfour turned to Elizabeth, a look of polite interest on his face.
“Bella and I are great friends,” Elizabeth continued. “She and her mother spend most of the year in Scotland. Lady Galbraith detests London, so we see each other a good deal. They live on Heriot Row, which is only a few minutes’ walk away.”