Page 16 of A Scot on Duchess Square
“No, not yet. Maybe in a little while. I just wondered whether you would accommodate me if and when I made the request.”
“Always. Just let me know when ye’re ready.” He grabbed a couple of newspapers lying on a small desk and sank into another of the large chairs situated at the opposite side of the library. He could have settled closer to her, but felt she wanted some distance between them.
That was fine with him. All he needed to do was be there if she wished to retire to her quarters.
“Solway?” she called out softly as he opened up one of the newspapers. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “I’m here to help ye, Miranda. Please, dinna hesitate to ask if ye are in need of anything.”
“I will. I may be stubborn, but I am not completely foolish. I am in a bit of pain,” she admitted, surprising him.
He frowned. “Should I summon a doctor?”
“No, it is just an occasional twinge along my ribs. No doubt the three-hour journey we took this morning aggravated theinjury. But you must not worry. Tilda did an excellent job of tending to me.” She opened her book and began to read.
Or pretended to read.
Not that it mattered. He just wanted her to be comfortable.
Bram looked forward to enjoying some quiet time himself. When was the last time he had nothing to do but sit and read for idle pleasure? Since he was not about to leave Miranda’s side, he had this next hour or so to lose himself in the news of the day.
In truth, he was not used to having any peaceful hours because his daily routine kept him far too busy. It was not only the Solway holdings that kept him occupied, but his government duties, as well.
Scotland was always treated by the English as their impoverished spinster relation, a nuisance that they often tried to ignore. There were perhaps a handful of Scottish dukes who wielded enough power to make those in Parliament sit up and listen. He was one, and Cheyne Lyon, the Duke of Mar, was another—as well as Malcolm MacRae, the Duke of Camborne, now that he had settled down and appeared to be happily married.
Bram let out a breath, not wanting to think of his duties and responsibilities just now.
Indeed, it felt good to have this quiet time. Besides, his kinsmen knew where to find him if something serious arose.
The first newspaper he chose to read was known for its fine reporting on financial matters. He reviewed it with interest, for he had some spare funds to invest and was always looking for interesting ideas. The second was more of a gossip rag, but he perused it next with as much interest as he had the financial paper. He would be spending several months in London and ought to know what was going on among Society’s elite. After all, most of them were titled and sat with him in the House of Lords.
Should he not be aware who was cheating on their spouses? It could impact how their votes on various topics went, for an angry husband was never going to vote for anything proposed by the man who was bedding his wife and making a cuckold of him. This happened surprisingly often.
Just as often, there were husbands and wives who did not care at all what their spouses did.
This was quite sad, Bram thought. It was just his opinion, and not one widely held throughout theton. Most people married for financial advantage or to forge useful alliances. This had never been his need or desire.
Suddenly feeling restless, he glanced over at Miranda and was not surprised to find the book having slipped from her hands, now precariously poised on her lap while she slept.
She looked quite lovely with her sooty lashes resting on her pale cheeks.
Solovely.
He was about to rise and stride to her side in order to take the book off her lap when a feminine giggle from the doorway caught his attention.
“Bram, darling. What brings you to Edinburgh?” the woman asked in a coquettish voice that nonetheless grated. “And how convenient, since I was feeling rather lonely.”
Oh, hell.
He rose with a forced smile to greet one of his former dalliances, Lady Wharton. “Brianna, how are ye? It’s been a while.”
No. No. No.
He did not need her making an appearance just when he thought Miranda might be softening toward him.
“It has been far too long,” the lovely brunette purred, gliding to his side. “I’ve missed you.”
He tossed aside his newspaper. “How is yer husband?”
