Page 5 of The Devil Wears Kilts
“The coach?” Arran repeated as the butler hurried downstairs. “Ye’ll never catch up with a mail coach in that beast.”
“They have nearly ten hours head start, and a plan which no doubt includes a false identity,” Ranulf said, the deepening fury in his chest mixing with a fair amount of worry. “At least it had better.”
“What are ye talking aboot, Ran?”
“What I’m talking aboot, Bear, is that she’d best know by now that she has more to avoid than just us. And I’ll nae be seen by the Gerdenses and their lot screeching like a banshee as I race across the countryside. I’ll follow close enough to make certain no one stops her, and I’ll catch her up in London.” He glanced down at the half-burned scrap again. “At Hanover House, evidently. And then I’ll drag her arse back home.”
“And us? Ye expect us to sit on our hands?”
Ranulf looked over at Arran. “I do, indeed. Ye know that we need to have a MacLawry here at Glengask. And two sets of eyes’ll do ye both better. Word will get oot that I’ve gone. I dunnae want anyone to see that as an invitation to come and make trouble. Or that I’ve abandoned our people.”
“The Gerdenses and Campbells’ll more likely see it as a chance to waylay ye on the highway,” Munro growled. “Ye can’t go with naught but two footmen for protection, Ran.”
“I’ll go,” Lachlan put in.
“No, ye willnae. I’ll nae have Rowena doing something even more foolish to try t’make ye jealous or someaught.”
“But she’s… she’s like my sister, Ran. I would never—”
Ranulf lowered his brow. “Even more reason for ye to stay behind.” Whatever it was Rowena thought she was up to, he wasn’t about to muddle the stew any further. Not even with the man for whom she’d set her cap. “I’ll have the dogs with me. And both of those footmen, as ye call ’em, fought on the Peninsula with Wellington just as ye did, Arran. They’ll do fer me.”
“Aye, but—”
“No more arguments. Any of ye. I’m leaving for London in an hour. Stay here and make certain Rowena and I have a home to come back to. Ye’ll see us within a fortnight, even if I have to tie her up and throw her over a horse.”
London.Damnation.Rowena would be lucky if his throwing her over a horse was the worst that happened to her. To both of them.
Chapter One
“There’s no need to worry on that account; Jane welcomes any excuse to shop.” With a grin, Lady Charlotte Hanover kissed her sister on the nose, then stood.
“I’ve no wish to upend your schedule,” Lady Rowena MacLawry returned in her soft, lilting accent. “It’s poor enough of me to arrive on your doorstep with nary a warning.”
“Nonsense.” Lady Jane Hanover gripped her friend’s hand. “I’ve been inviting you to visit for what seems like years. Your mother and my mother were practically sisters. Weren’t you, Mama?”
“Yes, we were.” Elizabeth Hanover, the Countess of Hest, nodded. “And I’m so pleased you began corresponding with Jane. You do look so like Eleanor, you know.” She sighed, offering a soft smile. “You’re welcome here, my dear, for as long as you care to stay. And of course I’ll sponsor your Season. It’s only fitting that you and Jane debut together.”
Jane clapped her hands together. “You see? You should have come down ages ago, Winnie.”
“Oh, I wanted to, believe you me. It’s only Ran who dug in his heels about it. He thinks every Englishman is…” She trailed off, clearing her throat. “Well, he’s very narrow-minded when it comes to London.”
She flipped a hand, laughing, but to Charlotte’s gaze young Lady Rowena didn’t look entirely at ease. Of course she was fairly certain she wouldn’t be, either, if she’d traveled alone with no one but her maid through half of Scotland and nearly the entire length of England. Clearly Winnie had badly wanted a London Season.
For an overprotective brother, this Ranulf MacLawry had failed in rather spectacular fashion. A young lady who’d never left her own shire had no business navigating England alone. Or of traveling in a mail coach. Charlotte had half a mind to write Lord Glengask and tell him precisely that. Surely no one could be so ignorant as to think it unnecessary even to send a letter to precede his sister to ensure that someone would be home to greet her and to take her in for the Season. It was… it was unconscionable, even for someone ignorant of English custom. Surely he could read a newspaper, after all. And he must have a modicum of common sense.
She exchanged a glance with her father, who lifted an eyebrow before returning to the conversation. Jonathan Hanover, the Earl of Hest, was not a fan of chaos or upheaval of any kind, but he did dote on Jane and her to excess. Of course Lady Rowena would be welcomed into the house, and she would never see so much as a hint from him or anyone else that he would rather the family didn’t have live-in company for the Season.
Longfellow, the butler, and two footmen arrived with cold sandwiches and tea for them; it was far past dinner, and evidently Mrs. Broomly had gone from the kitchen to spend the night with her very pregnant daughter near Tottenham Court. As the servants set out plates, the knocker at the front door rapped.
“I’ll see to it, Longfellow,” Charlotte said, since she was already standing and nearest the hallway door.
“Thank you, milady.”
By the time she’d made her way the short distance from the sitting room to the foyer, the rapping had turned to pounding. “For heaven’s sake,” she muttered, and pulled open the door. “What is so ur…” Charlotte began, then nearly swallowed her tongue.
A wall stood on the front portico. Well, perhaps he wasn’t as wide as a wall, though his shoulders were certainly broad. But he towered over her by a good ten inches, and most of her fellows considered her tall. As all of that rattled nonsensically through her brain, though, what she most noticed were the blue, blue eyes currently glaring icily down his straight, perfectly carved nose at her.
“I’m here for Rowena MacLawry,” he said without preamble, rich Highland Scot in his voice.
