Page 41 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
“And now it makes sense to me,” Aden returned in a mild tone. “Ye might have said ‘chivalry,’ though, and nae use up all yer words for the day.”
“Shut yer yap, Aden.”
They tied their horses in front of Claremont’s shiny white house, and Coll topped the steps to slam the brass boar’s head knocker against the door. A skeletal butler in red and black livery pulled it open, staring at them with sunken cadaver eyes.
“Yes?”
“Viscount Glendarril is here for a word with Lord Claremont,” Aden supplied. “Would the earl be home today?”
The butler’s left eye twitched. “I shall inquire,” he said. “Wait here.” With that, he shut the door on them.
“Ye shouldnae have been so polite,” Coll muttered, flexing his fingers.
“If ye’d so much as tapped him, he might well have crumbled into dust. Be patient, giant. It’s more than just ye and Niall and me that ye’re representing now.”
That was the damned truth. There was Francesca—Lady Aldriss—for one, though causing her some consternation had been part of the plan from the beginning. But the things he did also reflected on Eloise, Amy, Miranda, and their families as well. The MacTaggert part of Clan Ross had more than doubled in size over the past eight weeks, it seemed. And it had quadrupled in civility, which was a shame.
The door opened again. Lord Claremont himself stood there, blond and handsome but for a scabbing scratch over his left temple, no doubt the result of being flung into thewall of Persephone’s dressing room. “Glendarril,” he said smoothly. “If you’re here to challenge me to a duel, I decline.”
“I may nae give ye that option,” Coll countered.
“Excuse me,” Aden said, taking a half step forward between Coll and Claremont, “but my brother has a query, and we hoped ye might be able to answer the question. Might we come in? Unless ye care to have him bellowing at ye from the street, that is.”
The earl eyed the two of them, then stepped back into his foyer. “This way, gentlemen.”
“Ye see?” Aden whispered, motioning for Coll to precede him. “Manners. They’re a wee bit like magic here in London.”
“Says the man who had a naval captain near shitting himself a week ago,” Coll muttered back, following the earl into what he presumed was the house’s morning room.
“Very well,” Claremont said, strolling over to a liquor tantalus. “I’m on my way back to the House of Lords for our afternoon session, but I have a few minutes. I should offer you a drink, yes?”
He should have recalled that Parliament was in session today, Coll reflected. Persephone had mentioned it as well, not that he expected Claremont to have swung the bucket himself. “Nae for me. I want to kn—”
“Nae, thank ye,” Aden interrupted again. “We’d just like to know where ye were earlier today, and yesterday morning.”
The earl filled a glass with whisky, from the smell of it, and took a swallow. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” he said to Aden. “If you’re here to be his second or something equally archaic, you should know I have no intention of battling anyone, much less two of you.”
“I’m nae here to protect Coll,” Aden said, emphasizing his brother’s name.
“Oh. I see. In that case, welcome.”
While Claremont and Aden exchanged barbs, Coll watched the earl. Smooth, sophisticated, and eloquent, all the polish of thehaut tondidn’t make him anything but slippery. Even so, he didn’t carry himself like an attempted murderer—or Coll’s vision of one, anyway. Then again, he’d met more glib-tongued liars here than he’d known in his entire twenty-nine years in the Highlands.
“If the two of ye are finished dancing,” he stated, “I want to know why ye’ve been trying to kill Persephone Jones. And why ye think ye should be allowed to continue breathing after ye’ve tried to harm the lass.”
“I’d heard you stepped in after I stepped back.” Claremont lifted his glass in a toast. “May you be more successful than I was in touring her garden of delights.”
“That sounds magnanimous. Answer my question.”
“You didn’t precisely ask one, but I do take your meaning. I haven’t been attempting to murder anyone. Nor have I asked anyone else to do so, since I surmise no one has seen me anywhere near her in the past three days.”
“Prove it.”
The earl tilted his head. “I cannot do so.” He finished off his glass and set it aside. “I gave her pretty and expensive baubles. Honestly, she never asked for any of them, but I figured I was buying more than her smiles. She—and you—proved me wrong. I made a poor investment. Such is the risk with any woman who doesn’t explicitly call herself a whore.”
“Careful, Claremont,” Coll warned, searching for any sign of a lie and not seeing any, damn it all.
“Of course. As for you, Glendarril, I consider your behavior ungentlemanly, but as I have no wish to be split intwo by a claymore, I have no intention of doing anything about either you or Persephone. If that doesn’t suffice, then question my servants and ask them if I’ve sent out any mysterious notes over the past few days. Ask if I’ve said anything cross—or anything at all, actually—about Mrs. Jones.”
