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of her plate. “If you must know, I think you’re far more interested in spiriting Ewan and me away from all the tattling tongues in London than you are about getting reacquainted.”
    Before Claire could reply to her sister’s charge, Lady Lydiard spoke. “Please excuse my daughter’s ill manners, Mr. Geddes. I can’t think where she’s picked them up.”
    Her ladyship’s cool stare told Ewan she need look no further than him.
    To Tessa she added, “I believe you owe Claire an apology. Thank heaven there is
someone
in the family who considers propriety.”
    “No apologies necessary,” said Claire, though her face had gone a bit pale during her sister’s rebuke. “Tessa is correct, in part, about my motive for suggesting a holiday in Scotland. I fail to see what harm it will do to exercise a little discretion. There is bound to be a good deal of gossip, in any case, dearest, if you break your engagement. Why add to it?”
    “When
I break my engagement.”
    The lass had spirit, that was certain. Ewan knew he should be grateful that she wasn’t ashamed of her feelings for him, and that she was willing to defy her family on his account, if necessary. All the same, her sharp tone and quarrelsome air set his teeth on edge.
    Beneath the table, he gave her foot a gentle nudge. “Well, I think a holiday at good old Strathandrew is a capital idea, Miss Talbot. I was hoping to make a wee visit home, anyway. It’ll be almost like old times, eh?”
    Tessa’s features softened. Perhaps she was picturing the two of them riding through the hills, sharing a picnic lunch of Rosie McMurdo’s fine cooking, or walking together by the burn in the late summer gloaming. Those thoughts certainly brought a smile to Ewan’s lips.
    Of course, that wouldn’t be like
old times,
he reminded himself. During the summers of their youth, the thought of wooing Lord Lydiard’s daughter was one he’d reserved for his hopeless dreams. Being able to court her in the familiar splendor of the Highlands, away from prying eyes and tattling tongues, would be like a dream come true.
    A dream he’d cherished so long and so desperately, he doubted he could let go of it now, even if he’d wanted to.

Chapter Four
    The faintly bilious sensation in the pit of Claire’s stomach had nothing to do with the gentle rocking of the yacht. Unlike her sister and stepmother, she seldom suffered a moment’s seasickness, even in the roughest weather. During their annual voyages to Strathandrew, she had taken keen enjoyment in prowling the decks, questioning the crew about sails and rigging, her senses quickened by the rhythm of the waves and the tang of the sea breeze as it rippled through her hair.
    Several years since their last such voyage, Claire now stood on the deck of the
Marlet,
awaiting Ewan Geddes’s arrival. She reached up to make certain her becoming new hat was firmly secured atop her flattering new coiffure.
    Lady Lydiard’s hairdresser had assured her the lower, looser style made her look quite five years younger. Claire had tried to ignore the shallow compliment, but she had not been able to subdue a ridiculous flicker of pleasure … any more than she could subdue the nervous, expectant flutter in her stomach.
    Perhaps it was the corset.
    Claire suspected the blame for a vast percentage of feminine maladies lay with this unnatural binding of women’s bodies. It was a measure of her regard for Tessa that she had submitted to its tyranny.
    Rubbish!
protested a voice from deep in her memory—the voice of her late father.
You’d never have a hope of winning that bounder away from your sister with your looks. And no amount of corsets, cunning hats or fussy hairstyles will alter that!
    Claire’s insides clenched as if powerful hands had jerked the laces of her corset tighter still. Pulling herself to her full height, she thrust out her chin. When he’d been alive, she had never given her father the satisfaction of guessing how much his