Another Country by Kate Hewitt

explaining her whereabouts. Ian scanned the
mingling crowd in the salon, mostly matrons and their aspiring
daughters, for a glimpse of Eleanor.
    His gaze rested on a man who looked vaguely
familiar, then his heart skipped a beat before pounding hard.
Despite the white hair and gaunt lines of his face, there was no
mistaking the man... Sir James Riddell.
    Fury, white hot and consuming, surged through Ian as
he broke from Isobel, who gave a little cry of surprise. He could
see nothing but Riddell, hear nothing but the mocking laughter of
eleven years ago when the man had wrested Ian’s family property
from his boyish grasp.
    “I never thought to see you again, Riddell,” Ian
said as he stood in front of the older man, his voice choked with
anger.
    Riddell raised his eyebrows, smiling coolly, seeming
both unsurprised and unimpressed by Ian’s sudden appearance. “Nor
I. We’re hardly likely to travel in the same circles, are we?”
    “Thank heavens for small mercies. I wouldn’t want to
be in the same room with a man such as you.”
    Surprise rippled around the salon in a shocked
current. Riddell shook his head in warning. “I’d be careful with
your words, Ian, my boy. This is neither the time nor the
place.”
    “I’m not a boy anymore, Riddell, not like when you
cheated me out of my family home.”
    Riddell’s voice was low and controlled, but filled
with menace. “I told you to be careful.”
    Ian took a deep, shaking breath. “And I’m calling
you a cheat.”
     

CHAPTER FIVE

    The silence in the salon was taut. Ian stared at
James Riddell, his breathing ragged.
    “What did you call me?” Riddell asked in slow,
deliberate tones.
    Ian felt a hand on his sleeve, its warning pressure.
Eleanor, who had come quickly to his side, shot him a pleading
glance. He already knew this was neither the time nor the place for
such a confrontation; indeed, his behavior had already breached the
code of a gentleman. “I believe you heard me,” he said quietly,
once he’d reined his emotions back under control. “I’ve no need to
say it again.”
    “You owe me an apology,” Riddell demanded
quietly.
    “Ian...”
    “No, Eleanor. It’s all right.” Ian raised his chin.
“I apologize for speaking to you in such a manner, and in such a
place. But the business between us is not finished.”
    “It was finished a decade ago,
Campbell,” Riddell replied. “You simply have not accepted
it.”
    Ian was conscious of the frank and curious stares of
the people gathered in the salon. Next to him Isobel was rigid with
the embarrassment of being party to such a confrontation. “No, I
haven’t,” he replied quietly. “And I never will.”
    Riddell smiled suddenly, his eyes
glinting. “If I didn’t dislike you so much, Campbell, I’d admire
your tenacity. I might even have a position for you in my offices.
I could use a good clerk.”
    Ian’s hands balled into his fists
and blood surged to heat his face. Riddell’s smile widened, and
even though Ian knew the older man was taunting him on purpose, he
could barely keep himself from hitting him.
    “Ian, he’s winding you up,” Eleanor whispered.
“Resolve this another day. Not here, not now!”
    The whispers and titters were growing louder, the
stares emboldened. Ian let his hands drop to his sides. “You’ve
barely begun to grasp just how tenacious I can be, sir,” he said
with cold dignity. “And now that you are in Boston, I have no doubt
that you will discover its full measure.” Without waiting for a
reply, he turned, leading Isobel to a secluded corner of the salon.
Eleanor, her face pale and worried, followed.
    “Ian, what on earth was that about!” Isobel demanded
in a furious whisper. “You’ve made us both the talk of all society,
no doubt!” She did not sound pleased by the prospect. Ian let out a
shuddering sigh.
    “Isobel, I’m sorry. I know I was out of place.”
    “Who was that man?”
    “An old adversary,” he murmured. “I didn’t