The Lyon's Laird - Hildie McQueen Page 0,3

her point clear.

“Very well, I will allow you outside, but only for a short while.” Evangeline opened the doors and the cat sprinted out.

In the garden, she walked to a flowering bush and considered trimming blooms for her bedroom. The day was, indeed, lovely. The sun was warm, but not too much so and there was just enough of a breeze to ensure comfort. Birdsong filled the air as Evangeline made her way to a bench.

From where she stood, Evangeline had a clear view through the doors into the sitting room where her mother continued to lounge. There was something strange about the way her mother was acting. Not just during the Monroes’ visit, but since the day before. It was as if there were something weighing heavily on her mind. Evangeline narrowed her eyes. Or her mother was up to something. Although she knew her mother wished for her to marry, it actually happening was doubtful.

After dinner and the visitor left, she would sit with her mother and have a talk. There was nothing to be worried about as far as Evangeline was concerned. The family finances were in order. As a matter of fact, apart from her father’s accounting business, her mother was quite wealthy in her own right.

Upon marrying Forest Prescott, Olivia Murray Prescott had brought with her a large estate and other property holdings. Not only that, but Evangeline’s bank account held a grand sum left to her by her grandmother.

Despite her family’s wealth, they lived a simple life. The household staff was smaller than others in their same social status and although the London home was beautiful, it was not grand.

Evangeline had one sibling, an older sister, Priscilla, who lived at her mother’s country estate near Manchester. Although out of the city, it suited her sister and husband perfectly as he preferred to spend his days out with his horses and she loved to garden.

The other Prescott family home, a beautiful sprawling country home was also near Manchester, was where Evangeline and her parents spent several months out of the year. Although it was a nice respite from the city, Evangeline did not prefer it. She loved the activity of the city and enjoyed her book club too much to miss it for long periods.

By the time her father arrived that evening, along with the dinner guest, everything was prepared and ready for dinner.

Her father introduced Evangeline and her mother to the man, who looked to be in his early forties. Mortimer Witt was a business associate, her father explained as they made their way to the dining room. Apparently, the man was investing heavily in a company that he wished her father to investigate.

The man took an extra-long study of Evangeline once they were seated until she fought not to fidget.

“Mister Witt,” her mother said, thankfully taking his attention. “Are you a native Londoner?”

After glancing at her mother, the man looked once again to Evangeline. “No, I spend most of my time south of here in Hertfordshire. I come to London to conduct business but find the city much too,” he hesitated before finishing, “filthy for my liking.”

“I agree it is crowded, but I would not describe London in such a manner,” Evangeline said, not at all liking the man.

Her father gave her a stern look and added, “There are some beautiful sites here.”

“I do not mean to offend you,” Mortimer said in a soothing voice that, for some reason, made Evangeline’s skin crawl. “It is just that the country is so much more pristine compared to the city streets.”

Annoyed now, Evangeline turned to her father. “We should invite Mr. Witt to help with the cleaning of the stables and pig sties at our country estate. That is not what I’d call pristine.”

“Evangeline!” Her mother’s wide eyes moved from her to the visitor. “I apologize. My daughter has had a trying day.”

“No need.” The man had the audacity to smile at her. “I like women who are not afraid to express their opinions.”

Thankfully, her father intervened and the two began to discuss the financial standings of London businesses. It left Evangeline and her mother to offer an occasional nod or acknowledgement of whether or not they’d heard of said business.

Dinner took an extraordinary long time since Mortimer spoke in between each and every bite.

When fresh fruit compote was presented, the visitor was delighted to try it. Once again, the conversation continued as he ate each piece of fruit separately.

Several times over the meal, his