Page 9 of Rogue with a Brogue
The second two were a mother and daughter, Mrs. John Evans and… oh, what was it? Flora? They attended some of the same parties, but she didn’t think they knew anything about her family’s politics. Thank goodness for that.
Before any of them could notice her staring, she returned to her perusal of baubles, selecting two more hair ribbons she didn’t particularly need. There. Everything was as it should be, with no flirtatious encounters between rival clan members or any other such nonsense.
“My lady, do you truly wish to purchase the hat that… man favored?” Crawford asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“I’m purchasing the hatIfavored,” she countered, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. “It’s merely a happy coincidence for him that he liked it, as well.”
“But you’re meeting him for luncheon tomorrow. I mean to say…” The maid flushed, her pale cheeks turning a blotchy red. “What I mean is, you say you don’t care for his opinion, but you’re spoken for.”
Mary forced a smile as they approached the shop clerk. “At this moment I’m being spokenat.Nothing’s been settled. And I wasn’t about to make a scene here,” she returned. “That wouldn’t have benefited anyone.”
“I—yes, my lady.”
She knew perfectly well what Crawford wanted to say but didn’t dare do so. That a surprise waltz was one thing, a surprise shopping companion another, and a prearranged luncheon quite a different matter entirely. “I’m aware of your concerns, Crawford,” she said quietly. “I haven’t forgotten my duty. And I have a day to consider the wisdom of a third encounter.”
“Very good, Lady Mary.”
What Mary couldn’t explain aloud, or even to herself, really, was why she meant to meet Arran MacLawry for luncheon, whatever anyone else’s objection. The maid saw trouble, a mistress behaving contrary to her parents’ well-known wishes. Andthatwas the point of it all—partly, anyway. The devil MacLawrys had been flung at her practically since she was born. They were why she’d been cautioned not to begin an acquaintance with anyone until her father or one of her uncles or cousins deemed him or her acceptable. They were why her father had entered into talks with the MacAllisters, and why she would now be expected to marry Roderick.
Arran MacLawry hadn’t looked or acted anything like she’d expected. He was different, not beholden to the Campbell or Lord Fendarrow, and that intrigued her more than she’d expected. They’d made a truce, so technically she supposed that in the strictest sense she was doing nothing wrong. Except that it felt wrong, and wicked, and very, very exciting.
The shop door flung open. “Oh, thank heavens!”
Her blond curls bouncing in time with her hurried steps, Elizabeth Bell crossed in front of the other, openly curious shoppers and hugged Mary. Returning the embrace, Mary frowned at the relieved expression on her friend’s face.
“What’s amiss, Liz?” she asked, patting Elizabeth’s shoulder and taking a half step backward, guiding her friend away from the exceedingly troublesome onlookers.
“We expected you at Madame Costanza’s nearly an hour ago!” her friend exclaimed. “What are you doing…” With a glance around her, Elizabeth stepped closer so she could whisper. “What are you doing here? Cyprians purchase their hats here, you know.”
Oh, dear.How was she supposed to explain that she’d merely seen a lady’s hat in the window and stumbled inside because she couldn’t risk staying on the streets any longer? Not with her very large male companion attracting everyone’s attention. “Do they?” She managed a giggle. “How scandalous!”
“Never mind that. We have to hurry. Kathleen is to wait until eleven, and then go alert your mother about your disappearance.”
Mary felt all the blood leave her face. “Where is she?”
“We’re to meet up at the Biscuit House. Come along.”
If Mary hadn’t been so concerned that her parents were about to discover to whom she’d been speaking just a few minutes ago, she would have been congratulating herself for deciding not to meet Arran tomorrow at the Biscuit House. The Blue Lamb would be much more discreet. Though of course the wisest course of action would be for her to remain at home for luncheon tomorrow. The question was, how wise did she wish to be?
Chapter Three
When Arran returned to Gilden House, the very proper Sasannach manor settled directly in the middle of Mayfair that his brother had seen fit to purchase, half the household was out on the front drive. Perhaps they’d discovered where he’d gone off to, and meant to thrash him for blatant stupidity. He might fight back, but he wouldn’t blame them for it.
His second thought was that someone had set fire to something again. The new stable was half completed, but Ranulf was still betrothed to an English lady—and some of his Sasannach rivals still didn’t like that.
He didn’t smell smoke, though, and no one looked particularly alarmed. When he spied one of the footmen Ran had brought down with him from Glengask, he made his way over. “Owen, what’s got the hoose emptied?” he asked.
“The dogs, m’laird,” the stocky former soldier and newly minted butler answered. “Peter took ’em oot fer a run, and they flushed a badger. Theamadanbrought it home fer the pelt, only it came to life again.”
Arran lifted an eyebrow. “So we’ve a badger and two deer hounds loose in the house?”
“Aye. The laird yer brother said we were making it worse with all the yellin’ and running aboot, so he booted us all oot and said he’d see to it.”
So they’d left the chief of clan MacLawry, the Marquis of Glengask, alone in the house with a likely angry badger and a pair of excited, waist-high Scottish deer hounds. For a brief moment Arran wished his younger brother Munro wasn’t still in the Highlands, so he could enjoy the fun, as well. Then he grabbed a broom one of the maids clutched and shoved open the front door, closing it firmly behind him.
The frantic barking of Fergus and Una echoed from somewhere upstairs toward the rear of the large house, so he headed up in that direction. “Ranulf!” he called, hefting the broom and wishing it were a wee bit more substantial. He’d never been bitten by a badger himself, but he’d seen it happen. They had jaws like a vise, and the temper of a demon.
“Block the north billiards room door!” his brother bellowed.
