Page 92 of Hollow Court
Not that I cared, since he wasn’t the one I would actually be marrying.
He was probably just giving me the chance to meet my eventual real fiancé in a way that wasn’t remotely awkward with my current fake fiancé’s scrutinizing gaze so often finding me, even over the heads of his own dance partners.
When I finally got a break, I headed over to the refreshment table, steering clear of the warmer beverages in favor of light sparkling wine.
Immediately, I was joined by three other figures.
Gallagher was the first to speak, his tone kind but teasing. “How are your toes faring after Laird MacCallum?”
“Decidedly worse for wear,” I admitted. “But he was nice enough.”
“And he has an enormous—”
“Penchant for gambling?” Davin interjected helpfully.
Though I knew he hadn’t slept much more than I had—he couldn’t have, when we were on the roof even later than usual—his face didn’t show a single sign of fatigue. None of him did. He was perfectly put together in a silver and pale blue outfit that complemented mine to perfection.
And judging by his outwardly calm expression, he, too, had locked his demons in the box where they belonged.
“I was going to say,” Gal glanced from his cousin, back to me. “He has an enormous vineyard down south.”
I bit back a sigh.
This was not new, Gallagher attempting to point out something helpful whilst Davin was markedly less so. It had been happening with increasing frequency since Davin returned, as every new day brought a new batch of courtiers.
Gwyn sipped at a glass of iced pumpkin cider, surveying the crowd with a critical eye. “Well, tell me which one you’re leaning toward so I make a show of picking someone else for Auntie Jocelyn’s sake.”
Her brother made a face, and she shot him a look of sympathy. “You, too, Twinsy. It’sourturn to face the hangman’s noose now.”
I choked on my wine.
While most of the room had been trying to avoid mentioning of yesterday’s executions, Gwyn, apparently, had no such compunctions.
Gallagher shook his head mutely, giving me a slightly horrified glance when Gwyn looked away. Whether because of her off-color joke or because Maisey was going to murder him, I wasn’t sure.
“Perhaps you’ll be able to rope one of the lairds in with your overwhelming sensitivity, Cousin,” Davin remarked.
Gallagher coughed. “Went right toroped, did you?”
Gwyn snorted, and Lady Fenella shot her a judgmental glance.
“Now, Laird Gregory is a decent option.” Gallagher gestured vaguely in their direction.
I eyed the kind blond with the slightly crooked nose who was escorting his mother through the ballroom, trying to see him in a favorable light. Though Jocelyn had said I was welcome to stay here, it would be easier for everyone if I had another arrangement when this was all said and done.
Easier for me, also, to move on rather than stay here and watch Davin once he was no longer encumbered by a need for discretion.
Besides, I did want to get married. I wanted children. Just…not with Alexei.
And, if I was being honest, not with Laird Gregory, either.
“He has a comfortable estate along the eastern border,” Gal went on. “His family is very close, too—”
“A little too close, really,” Davin interrupted from my right, his posh tone sounding more high-handed than usual. “But if you don’t mind your husband having an unhealthy relationship with his mother or their thirty indoor cats, then he’s a real winner.”
I attempted to hide my expression behind my wine glass, mostly because I wasn’t sure whether it would be a grimace or a smirk.Damn him.
“Not to mention, Lady Fenella would be your mother-in-law,” Gwyn tacked on, her eyes widening in warning.