Roland rolled his shoulders with a groan. Then, straightening, he arched his back, as if stretching out the discomfort. “Ye mean to tell me that fancy father of yers didnae have running water installed in his house?”
Why would he, when he had Max—and later, paid servants—to do the work for him?
But all Max said was, “Nope. I might just stick around here so I can take baths more often.”
To his surprise, Roland didn’t look happy about that idea, even though it had been him who’d been constantly bugging him to do that very thing. “I need an excuse to visit ye at the inn.”
“Really?” Max’s brows shot up. He hadn’t spent all that much time at The Oliphant Inn in the last few weeks, only returning there to sleep. And Roland had only visited him a few times, like yesterday, when he’d come to fetch Max. “Why?”
His friend seemed hesitant to answer at first. “Did ye see the pink angel I danced with last night? The one with the fancy shoes?”
The mention of shoes drew Max’s attention to the dressing table across the room, and the object nestled in the top drawer. But he merely said, “I remember seeing the two of you together.”
“Aye, well, she didnae tell me her name, but I want to see her again. She told me I could find her at the inn.”
Max frowned. The woman Roland had danced with had worn her blonde hair up in a fancy style, and there wasn’t much else to use to identify her. But he had an idea. “You think visiting the inn will allow you to find her?”
“Maybe she’s a guest?” Roland shrugged.
“The inn proprietress, Lady Machara Oliphant, has two daughters. The older of the two has lighter hair.”
Roland sat forward; his eagerness plainly written across his expression. “Do ye think it might be her? I remember meeting them ages ago and thinking they were both beauties, but last night…”
As he blew out a fond breath, Max was surprised to feel…jealousy? He’d seen Roland dancing with the lady in pink, seen the two of them laughing together, and had even seen him pull her aside for a private conversation. He hadn’t seen what had come of it, but it had been clear Roland had enjoyed himself at the ball.
And Max? Well, he’d danced with an absolutely intriguing redhead in pure white, who wore unusual footwear…but had then run from him. Not just from him, but from the ball, and from the castle. What had he done to warrant such an escape?
Uncomfortable, he shifted in the tub, the water spilling over the side once more. He couldn’t shake the idea she might’ve been in trouble and needed help, but he was unlikely to find her again, wasn’t he?
Although…
His gaze cut to the dressing table again. She’d left something of hers behind, and if he were ever offered the chance to return it, he would. And he’d thank her for the most interesting dance and ask her about the business proposition she’d mentioned.
“Max?”
He started, remembering his friend was waiting for a response. “Aye, the older daughter’s name in Vanessa, I believe. I remember thinking she was a bit prideful, thanks to her beauty.”
“Haughty?” Roland hummed. “Aye, that could be my angel. I’ll have to call on Baroness Oliphant at the inn and inquire after her daughter.”
Max sunk lower in the tub. “So that’s where you’re off to today?”
His friend chuckled. “Nay, although I wish. I have to spend some time at my estate for a change, then Da is sending me off to Inverness for the week—possibly longer—to follow up on some business. I told him ye were likely no’ to miss me.”
“I’ll miss ye terribly, deeply!” Max sighed with over-dramatic sorrow. “But somehow, I’ll console myself with the mountain of work I’ve got waiting for me at Oliphant Engraving.”
“Aye, that’s what I meant.” Roland grinned. “I dinnae care if ye stay here in my absence, or move into yer own house, but when I get back, I’m dragging yer arse to the inn for an introduction.”
“Deal. Now go away.”
Roland grinned. “I’m waiting to escort ye down to luncheon. If I have to sit around too many loud people with a headache, I insist on ye going with me.”
“I’m not getting out of this tub until you’re gone!”
“Why?” Roland stood, making a nonchalant show of peering into the tub as Max sunk his chin below the water. “Ye havenae got anything I havenae seen already, do ye? I have more than one brother.”
Spitting water out of his mouth, Max glared. “I’ve only got the one, and you’re pissing me off about as much as he does. Hand me that towel and get out!”
Chuckling, Roland snagged a towel off the top of a pile of fluffy white ones and tossed it underhanded toward Max’s head. Max had to scramble upright—more water splashed on the floor—to keep it from sailing past the tub.
“Thanks,” he muttered sarcastically.
“Dinnae mention it!” Roland was on his way out the door. “Put yer trousers on and come downstairs to see me off, or I’ll believe ye’re pining for me.”
Max snorted and waited for his friend to close the door behind him before he stood. Pining for Roland? Unlikely. He’d spend the next week getting comfortable at Oliphant Engraving, settling into his new role, and he’d likely not think of Roland a bit.
But he had to admit, there were others occupying his mind, as he used the towel to sluice water and bubbles from his skin. Such as that flustered girl he’d bumped into yesterday at the inn. Or the redhead, with the intriguing mask and shoes, at the ball.
One was a lady and one was a servant, but they both had captured his attention. Maybe it was because, for most of his life, he’d been little more than a servant himself, but now he was rubbing elbows with lairds and Earls and whatnot.
With a sigh, Max stepped from the tub, careful to drip onto the
