Page 21 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
“North and east, if you please.”
They rolled away at a fast trot. The speed was likely contrary to the gentlemanly rules of street travel, but of more concern was the realization that Persephone really could go nowhere without being pursued. “It’s like that all the time for ye, is it?” he asked, turning to face her.
“It’s worse when I play a romantic heroine,” she said, glancing over her shoulder before she sat back against the well-stuffed blue cushions. “But their interest means they will purchase seats, which is what keeps us all employed.” Light blue eyes met his. “I’d like to discuss our business now, so you can decide whether you wish to be seen lunching with me or not.”
“I’m all ears, Persephone Jones.”
She cleared her throat, folding her hands primly in her lap. “A trio of sandbags nearly crushed me this morning.”
That caught his attention, and not at all in the way he’d anticipated. The rock in his gut jolted, as if he’d nearly lost something vital without even knowing it was in danger. “That’s why ye have a scratch on yer cheek, isnae? Ye werenae hurt elsewhere, were ye?” he asked, reaching over to brush the offending scratch.
“No. It was a near thing, but I was only hit by a splinter when one of the thrones was smashed.”
Coll took a breath. He was accustomed to stepping in the moment he sensed trouble. Being informed after the fact left him frustrated. “Ye reckon it wasnae an accident?”
“I don’t know. It might have been; I’ve nearly been knocked down by sandbags before. All of us have had things fall while we’ve been rehearsing or onstage.”
“Ye do realize if they’d hit ye in the head, they wouldnae have just knocked ye down, lass.”
Her mouth tightened a little. “Yes. I saw that happen once, a few years ago. Poor man broke his neck. But they didn’t hit me or anyone else, and as I said, itisa hazard of my profession.”
“And it should’ve been looked after before it could happen.”
She nodded. “Yes, it should have. Poor Harry Drew was mortified. I imagine at this moment he’s personally checking all the ropes and knots in the entire theater.”
Coll eyed her. Whether she meant to make light of the accident or not, it definitely remained on her mind, and it had definitely caught the attention of the theater workers. “Ye reckon it could be Claremont.”
Persephone blinked. “I have no idea if it was him or not.” A smile curved her mouth. “I thought I might have to work harder to get you to come up with that assumption.”
“Och, so ye reckon I’m some muttonheaded idiot because I’m nae English? Ye want me to go murder him, do ye?”
“Not at all! Good heavens. I thought I was perhaps jumping to conclusions, myself. The fact that you went there directly is rather mollifying. But I don’t want you to kill anyone, for goodness’ sake.”
That felt less insulting, at least. “Ye have a way with fancy words, lass.”
Her smile thinned. “Speaking fancy words is my occupation, my lord.”
She didn’t like that he’d pointed out her uncommon vocabulary, then. Coll made a mental note of it, then nodded and sat back against the seat. “I’d wager yeareworried Claremont means to make trouble, so now the idea of having me as yer protector sits a bit better with ye. Do I have the right of it?”
“Yes, you do.”
He wanted to do it; having an excuse to stay close by her and regularly visit her bedchamber appealed to him immensely. If this had been a voluntary visit to London, he would have agreed to it already. “I’ve a wife to find, ye ken. Th—”
“What if I were to instruct you in how to be a proper gentleman?” she cut in. “A suitor who could determine whether a woman was after him for his title or for himself?”
That was her offer? He’d figured out women in general a long time ago. The only difficulty here was choosing one to last him a lifetime. But if she happened to be looking for an excuse to have him about, he’d be an idiot not to take her up on it. “I’m listening.”
“Begging yer pardon, m’laird, but where are we supposed to be headed now?” Gavin asked from the driver’s perch. “If I keep us driving north and east, we’re bound to run into the sea.”
“Turn up Marylebone Road and head east,” the lass said, before he could ask where it was they were building Regent’s Park, anyway. “You’ll see it on your left. Just drive until you find a spot for a picnic.”
“Should I do that,m’laird?” the groom asked, clearly displeased at being ordered about by a Sassenach female.
“Aye. As she says.”
“As she says,” Gavin muttered under his breath, but made the turn as instructed.
With the exception of a handful of maids and cooks, Aldriss Park had been a household without lasses for seventeen years. A lass with authority was something none of them were accustomed to. It was, however, something that was going to change by the time their stay in London was over. Amy and Miranda were ladies, and Eloise would be visiting as well, because he wasn’t about to allow another seventeen years to pass without setting eyes on his sister. As for his own lass, well, whether he liked her or not, she would be Lady Aldriss one day, with duties of her own to perform.
