Page 46 of Provoked

“Yes.” Balfour paused, then added slyly, with a sidelong glance, “What did you make of her? She’s very lovely, don’t you think?”

David hesitated for a moment before agreeing. “Yes, very. Accomplished too, I’m sure. And well-bred.”

Balfour looked straight ahead again. “Hmmm.”

“All in all a perfect wife,” David added coolly.

Balfour smiled without looking at David. It was a humourless, inward smile. A little bit hateful. “Do you seek to make a point, my friend?”

David realised then he couldn’t pretend civility with Balfour. “I’m not your friend,” he said.

Balfour’s expression tightened, but he ignored David’s comment. “Fancy Miss Galbraith for yourself, do you?”

David flushed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“What, then?”

“Catherine Chalmers just mentioned she believes you’re about to ask for Miss Galbraith’s hand in marriage.”

Balfour huffed out a laugh. “And if I am?”

“Are you?”

“Perhaps. My father thinks she’d be an ideal wife for me. What do you think?”

David forced himself to shrug. “I have no idea, but I’ll wish you happy, of course.”

Balfour gave a bark of laughter. “How kind.”

That laugh made David feel foolish and angry. He wanted to lash out at the other man. Tell him he wasn’t fit to wed any woman. It took all his self-control to stay silent.

He felt Balfour’s gaze on his face but kept looking resolutely ahead.

“Listen, I don’t want—” Balfour began after a brief silence, only to break off, his step faltering suddenly.

David turned his head then, his own pace stuttering to a halt. There was perhaps a second—less—when Balfour stood still, staring across the road, eyes wide with surprise. And then, just as David looked in the direction of Balfour’s gaze, Balfour set off at a run. He was already past David by the time David saw what it was that had gripped his attention: another man. Tall and soberly dressed. Walking smartly, then quickening to a run as Balfour shouted a name after him.

“Hugh!”

The man threw a glance over his shoulder as he disappeared round a corner, Balfour on his heels.

He could’ve been Balfour’s brother.

Chapter Thirteen

A full day passed before David heard from Euan again. A full day during which David worried about the lad almost incessantly.

He was sure the man he’d seen Balfour chasing after must be Lees. If that was right, it meant Lees was here, in Edinburgh, just as Euan had always thought. And if Balfour had found him, on Isabella Galbraith’s doorstep, might Euan have done so too? Might their confrontation already have taken place?

If so, what had become of Euan?

The lad had promised he would speak to David before he went after Lees, but it had been five days since David had seen him. Perhaps Euan had seen his quarry and given in to the temptation of facing up to him then and there? But hehadpromised not to do so, and David knew he was not one to make a promise lightly.

Although David had nothing pressing to work on, he went to the library after lunch to check if Euan had called on him there, or perhaps left a note in his box. But there was nothing, no message and no note. He went home again and tried to do some reading but couldn’t concentrate at all. By late afternoon, he’d decided to take another walk down to Heriot Row to see if he could find the lad there. He was just about to put his on coat when there was a knock at his front door.

And there, at last, stood Euan.

He was filthy and his skin was grey from exhaustion, his eyes red-rimmed. He had lost weight—in just a handful of days, he had become noticeably thinner. David stood aside to let the lad pass, but Euan didn’t move.