Page 71 of The Tartan Trap

“See? Your morals are tip-top.” He smiled at her fondly.

Margaret shook her head and tried to hide her blush.

“Of course, I had to be sly about it. The asking, I mean.” His eyebrow winged upward. “It was much like sussing out a good business opportunity. One must do their due diligence without alerting others to the untapped possibility before them.”

“Now you sound like my brother.”

“A high compliment—I’ve asked after him and your sisters, as well.”

“Oh, and what have you found out about Lord Cavendish and the Preston ladies?”

Callum’s large shoulders jerked upward once and settled. “Everything I needed to. A good family who hit a rough patch when the eldest brother passed, one that faded into memory once the younger brother returned. In truth, I was mainly focused on one Preston in particular.”

On a rush of sudden boldness, she asked, “And what else did you learn of me?”

“That your reputation is impeccable. What I already know firsthand—that you are as kind as you are beautiful.”

“I hardly think you can attribute kindness to me, not after the way I’ve treated you,” she said.

“Then this is the first of what’s sure to be many disagreements between us,” he said. “For I believe your heart is more impressive than your beauty, which should be impossible. Margaret, you are rarer than a day of perfect weather in Scotland, and prettier, too.”

Margaret could only shake her head, though her cheeks warmed in pleasure at the compliments.

Just then, a lock of her blonde hair flopped forward into her eyes, the pin hanging helplessly from the end. Margaret gave an irritated tsk. She yanked several pins loose, wound the hair back, and started shoving them in again. One of them fell to the gravel with a tinny plink.

“May I?” Callum said, already bending down to retrieve it.

“Of course,” Margaret said, her voice muffled by the pins clamped between her lips.

“Forgive me for saying so, but this seems to be a regular occurrence.” He examined the hair pin for a moment before holding it out to her.

It was true. In the weeks he’d been visiting her, her coiffure had loosened or exploded no fewer than four times. She plucked the offered pin from his fingers, her cheeks heating.

“It’s my hair,” she finally said once she’d shoved all the pins back into her golden strands. It hadn’t taken her long—she was experienced in resetting her hair without a mirror. “It’s unmanageable; it simply won’t behave as it ought.”

Callum frowned as if he took personal offense to her words. “Your hair is lovely. If there’s any blame to be given, it must be to the inadequacy of the pins.”

Margaret couldn’t help but smile—the man seemed determined to defend her at every turn, down to her very strands of hair. She shook her head. “No other lady of my acquaintance has the same difficulties I do.”

Callum hummed. Margaret thought it the same kind of noise she made when she still disagreed with one of her sisters but recognized the futility of continuing the argument.

Her suspicion was proven correct when he changed the subject by asking, “Will you be attending the ball this evening?”

She nodded wordlessly. Margaret couldn’t have put to words why her heart pounded as it did. Even though she suspected the reason, she didn’t want to admit it, especially to herself.

“Then I will see you there, mo ghrian.” Callum tipped his hat and whistled for Albie, then left without a backwards glance.

CHAPTER 26- CALLUM

Callum closed the heavy front door behind him and sighed. Albie scampered about, delighted to be home, jumping up and down with the customary thunk produced by his tiny leather leg. Callum bent and affectionately ruffled the dog’s ears with both his hands and was rewarded with a vigorous licking that made him chuckle.

The smile slid from his face as soon as he stood. Callum had meant to tell Margaret everything that morning, truly he had. He thought that if Margaret cared for him enough to use his given name in public the other night—even by accident—then he certainly owed it to her to tell her the truth about him finding her journal.

However, at the park, their conversation had blown so far off his intended course and then beached in such a pleasant place that he hadn’t dared bring up the diary at all. He didn’t want to destroy their fragile peace just as soon as it had developed.

“Mrs. Blake, could I have a moment?” he said.

His new housekeeper was perhaps older than most, but Callum didn’t care. She’d come highly recommended for her honesty, discretion, and ability to bring a wayward household back in line. It hadn’t escaped Callum’s notice that since he’d hired the woman, several of the staff had quickly been replaced. Ellis hadn’t complained about spies or gossips since the changes had been made; Callum took that as an excellent sign.