Page 95 of The Scottish Duke's Deal

“Blame Belson,” Eleanor replied. “He tried to murder Ramsay with a cravat.”

“Ah,” Norman said. “You’ve been officially initiated.”

Kitty leaned in and kissed Eleanor’s cheek. “You look lovely.”

Ramsay glanced at her, because apparently, he hadn’t already looked enough tonight. “She does.”

Eleanor elbowed him gently, making his heart flutter.

Lady Mulberry joined them with a rustle of taffeta. “Your Grace,” she said to Kitty, bowing her head just enough to be appropriate. “I’m glad to see you’ve taken to domestic life so… enthusiastically.”

Kitty’s smile didn’t waver. “And I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.”

Norman coughed. Ramsay thought he might be hiding a laugh.

Lady Mulberry’s lips twitched. “Of course. Change is so dreadfully unreliable.”

“Whereas you,” Kitty said sweetly, “have always been an inspiration.”

Eleanor touched Kitty’s sleeve. “There’s cake, I think.”

“God, take me there immediately,” Kitty muttered, looping their arms.

Ramsay stepped back to let them pass. As they walked off, Eleanor shot him a look over her shoulder—half a smirk, half a dare—and disappeared into the crowd.

He let out a slow breath.

“You’ve tamed,” Norman clapped him on the back. “It’s like watching a cat take down a wolf, isn’t it?”

Ramsay gave him a sidelong glance. “Do I look like a wolf to you?”

“Not anymore.”

The grandmothers were now discussing the disgrace of overblown centerpieces.

“That entire table is covered in roses,” Lady Mulberry sniffed. “One cannot evenseethe cutlery.”

Lady Fraser crossed her arms. “Typical. All show and no soil.”

Ramsay and Norman stepped slightly to the side, finding temporary shelter beneath a gilded column near the edge of the crowd.

“She’s different,” Norman said after a moment, his voice lower now. “My sister.”

Ramsay turned toward him. “Is she?”

“I’ve known her since birth, you know. Watched her be paraded, groomed, made palatable for every idiot with a title.” He exhaled slowly. “And yet tonight, she’s laughing like a person. Not a commodity.”

Ramsay said nothing.

“I haven’t seen that in a long time,” Norman added, watching Kitty twirl Eleanor dramatically near the dessert table. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before, actually. Not like this.”

Ramsay stared at the spot where she stood—hair glinting under the chandeliers, gown fanning behind her as she moved, laughing at something Kitty whispered into her ear.

“She’s good with Penelope,” Ramsay said after a moment. “And Lady Fraser likes her—which is a feat.”

Norman looked amused. “You like her.”

Ramsay didn’t answer.