Page 20 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
She wouldn’t chase after him now because that wouldn’t look well.Ha. As far as he was concerned, the Sassenachs could frown as much as they pleased. He was taking a pretty lass to luncheon. After that, perhaps he’d drive up and down Hyde Park like the other dandies and see which marriageable lass might catch his attention.
Or, if Persephone was after something more personal, he’d revisit Hyde Park tomorrow. Because while he didn’t mind a bit of distraction—and even looked forward to it, where the actress was concerned—he still had a duty to find a wife.
Coll leaned forward, checking that the lid on the picnic basket he’d had Mrs. Gordon prepare remained tied down. Now that they were moving, he could admit that he liked the barouche a wee bit more. Anything open to the sky had his approval; the devil knew closed coaches gave him the shivers under the best conditions.
Stretching both arms out along the top of the rear seat, he sank back. Being a man with no responsibilities would bore him in a day, but being driven about beneath the sun with the wind in his face and an interesting lass to meet had its attractions. As an additional benefit, being driven about made it easier for him to view the passersby as Gavin guided them through the heart of Mayfair. A number of lasses attempted to catch his eye, and Coll made a mentalnote of each one. By now, they’d all begun to swirl about in his head in a blur of skirts and fans and bonnets, but there had to be one—onemore, since Niall had found Amy, and Aden had won Miranda—acceptable female in London.
He knew most of the available lasses’ names by now and had at least figured out which ones he wanted nothing to do with under any circumstance, the ones who pretended to be empty-headed in the hope that he would do as he’d originally planned—wed and bed one of them and then leave her behind with the title of Lady Glendarril while he returned to Scotland alone. Whether he wanted that any longer or not, if it came down to marrying without love, at least he wanted the assurance that his wife would make a good matron for Aldriss Park.
If it did come down to logic rather than sentiment, then pursuing Persephone Jones on the side for a heated tryst or two and some witty conversation might be the most fun he had while he remained in London.
Whatever it was about her—her changing hair color, her quick wit, or even her stated horror at the idea of marrying above her station—she’d sparked his interest. Aye, he might have surprised her with that kiss, buthe’ddefinitely felt it deep in his chest, where it rattled around like rocks in a metal bucket and made him… not uneasy, but more aware. A first scent of rain on a sunny day.
“Shall I wait out here, then?” Gavin said over his shoulder as the groom stopped the barouche on one side of the narrow street.
“Aye. If they hear another Highlander in there, they might kidnap ye and force ye to teach them yer accent.”
The groom frowned. “What accent?”
“Never ye mind, Gavin. I’ll be but a moment.”
Though he could have simply stepped over the coach’s low door, he very properly opened it up and disembarkedlike a gentleman. One of the carpenters he’d worked with earlier caught sight of him and doffed his hat, which meant that everyone inside knew now that he was a viscount.
Generally, he didn’t care one way or the other who knew what or thought what about him, but the English were so blasted conscious of where and with whom they belonged that pretending to be common had felt… almost freeing. After all, he’d been a viscount since the day of his birth. He’d never not had it hung about his neck. And while others looked at him with envy, to Coll the title had been both a responsibility and a tool; it gave him cotters and villagers and herdsmen and farmers to look after, and it gave him the means and power to do so.
He found Persephone inside the theater, looking over her folio with Charlie Huddle. With her head bowed, the delicate curve of her neck seemed to beg for a kiss. Coll clenched his hands. No Highlander worth being called such would go about kissing a lass without her damned permission.
Then she lifted her head and caught his gaze, and his breath stilled. Aye, she was a woman worth being distracted over, even with only four weeks left to save the funding for Aldriss Park. If her yellow muslin had been a bit less low-cut, if the sleeves hadn’t been quite so short or the sides of the skirt gathered to show glimpses of her ankles, she might have passed for a proper lass. But then he wouldn’t be looking at her ankles or admiring the swell of her bosom or imagining his fingers brushing the bare skin of her shoulders.
Nine weeks without sharing a bed with a lass. That was how long he’d been celibate, and he didn’t like it one damned bit. Aden had treated Mayfair like his very own breakfast sideboard until he’d met Miranda Harris, but not Coll. No, he’d shouted that every woman should lay a trapfor him on his first day in London, and he’d spent the next two months doing everything he could to avoid being caught.
But then last night, he’d run across Persephone Jones, who didn’twantto marry him. Coll grinned. “I hope ye dunnae mind, but I’ve brought us a picnic luncheon. It’s a fine day, and I’m nae in the mood to dine indoors.”
She nodded, handing the folio to the theater manager. “I haven’t been on a picnic in ages. After the gloom of Lady Macbeth, the sunshine is welcome.”
“Grand, then. Hyde Park?”
Her fingers hesitated before they wrapped about his forearm. It was a tiny gesture, but then noticing the smallest of details had, on occasion, saved his life. “Ye worried all the men who see ye willnae leave ye be?” he asked. “I’ll nae let ’em pester ye.”
“While you’re occupied with flinging men about, we won’t be able to discuss business,” she returned, favoring him with a teasing smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “The area being designed for Regent’s Park is lovely. And much closer by.”
So being interrupted wasn’t what concerned her. Well, he’d made a mess at home over this luncheon, so he might as well enjoy it—wherever it was she wanted to dine. “Just tell my driver where to head, then,” he said.
As they left the theater, a handful of men who’d been loitering by the rear entrance broke away from viewing the chaos of scenery-building to head toward them.Good. He might not be able to figure out this lass, but he could damned well fend off these hounds.
Ushering her into the barouche, Coll turned around to face them. “Take a gander at this fist,” he grunted, coiling his right hand and lifting it. “If any of ye want a closer acquaintance, then ye keep walking this way.”
“I only wanted to tell Mrs. Jones how very much Iadmire her,” the largest of them offered, though not a one of them took another step closer.
“And now ye have. Go away.”
“I say, you can’t—”
“Let’s be off, shall we, Coll?” Her voice came from behind him.
That was all the invitation he required. Without waiting to see how indignant the onlookers might be and if any one of them might care to challenge him, Coll climbed into the barouche and seated himself beside her. “Aye. Off, Gavin. Wherever she tells ye.”
“Aye, m’laird.”
