Page 35 of Provoked
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.”