Page 90 of The Scottish Duke's Deal

Lady Fraser’s expression didn’t shift—but something in her eyes warmed. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Ramsay stepped inside, taller than ever, the edge of his coat brushing the hem of the rug. He was holding Penelope’s shawl which he dropped neatly onto the back of the chair without a word.

Penelope’s eyes fluttered open at his entrance, and she gasped. “You said you’d come after lunch!”

“It is after lunch,” Ramsay said, completely unrepentant.

“Not properly!”

Eleanor watched him with an arched brow. “Are you being scolded by a four-year-old?”

“I am,” he said grimly. “And by my wife in a moment, I imagine.”

Lady Fraser cackled then gave a regal sniff. “Well, since I’ve outstayed my welcome?—”

“You haven’t,” Eleanor said quickly.

But the older woman was already rising. “Let the young marrieds have their moment. Besides, I’ve letters to write and no patience to spare.”

She patted Penelope’s head, kissed Eleanor’s cheek without warning—leaving a faint scent of lavender—and gave Ramsay a knowing look.

“Don’t ruin it,” she told him then she was gone.

Ramsay stepped closer, watching her go. “She likes you.”

“She said I softened you.”

“You didn’t.” he scoffed. “I don’t soften.”

“I rather think I did.”

Ramsay’s mouth twitched. “You might have.”

They looked at one another for a moment—the kind of gaze that said too much and yet left the air aching with all that still hadn’t been said. His eyes dropped, just briefly, to her mouth. She felt it in the back of her knees.

Eleanor stepped forward, clearing her throat. “I told her we’re doing well,” she said. “She said it shows.”

Ramsay raised a brow. “Shows how?”

“In Penelope. In you. In me.”

“So we’re all glowing with domestic bliss, are we?”

She tilted her head, feigning solemnity. “You might be. I, for one, am simply well-rested and wearing clean stockings.”

His gaze flicked lower, just for a second.

Eleanor’s stomach flipped.

“I see,” he said. “That’s what I’ve been doing wrong. I’ve neglected my hosiery.”

“Shameful,” she replied. “Next the scandal sheets will say we’re incompatible.”

“They already do.” He folded his arms. “Apparently I’m a brute who glared so hard at your brother, the dining room windows cracked.”

“That sounds accurate.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do I still?”