To Tame a Highland Earl (19 page)

He released her. “The Irish Sea is mighty
cold this time of year, Miss Crenshaw.”

His tone remained light, but Eve didn’t miss
the censure. “When is it not cold?”

“
Never,” he replied, which
she interpreted as ‘never do that again.’

Lord Somerset waited beside the carriage as
they neared.

“
In you go, Somerset,” Lord
Rushton said.

The viscount complied.

“
Come along,
madam.”

Lord Rushton reached for her hand and warm
fingers closed around hers. An unexpected flutter in her stomach
caused her knees to weaken. She managed to lift her skirt and cloak
as he handed her into the coach, but she nearly fell into the seat
beside Grace in her fervor to free her hand from his. Curiosity
flickered in his eyes in the instant before he sprang inside the
compartment and settled beside Lord Somerset in the opposite seat.
Oscar closed the door and the carriage listed slightly as he
climbed atop the carriage with the driver.

“
Was it really necessary to
bring Oscar along?” Eve asked as the carriage rolled forward with a
gentle lurch.

Amusement appeared in Lord Rushton’s eyes.
“You feel for poor Oscar, but care nothing for what Somerset and I
must endure?”

“
Oscar is not the one who
insisted we take this voyage,” she replied. Though he had stood
with Lord Rushton in his insistence they go.

“
So Lord Somerset and I are
to suffer for our chivalry?” the earl asked.

“
I imagine you and Lord
Somerset will suffer a great deal before this is over.”

“
Nothing less than we
deserve?” he asked softly.

“
I suppose not.”

“
I doubt Oscar would have
let us leave without him, in any case,” the earl said. “He has
appointed himself the protector of you and your sister. Along with
Somerset, of course.” Lord Rushton gave him a nod.

“
More like Judas,” Eve
muttered.

“
Judas?” He looked
horrified. “Somerset, I do believe you have been demoted in Miss
Crenshaw’s estimation.”

“
Not Lord Somerset,” Grace
said. “Oscar. Eve is angry because he sided with you in getting us
onto the ship.”

“
I see.” Lord Rushton
looked at Somerset. “You can rest easy, Somerset.”

“
I doubt that,” he
replied.

“
Propriety would have been
satisfied had we hired a maid and let Oscar take us home,” Eve
said.

Lord Somerset snorted. “Propriety fled our
company long ago.”

Fear lanced though her. Was Lord Somerset
angry? Had he changed his mind about wanting to marry her?

“
Well said, Somerset,” Lord
Rushton laughed.

Suddenly Eve felt less like a trip into the
city than she had earlier. “I think I would rather return to the
ship.”

“
We are already on our
way,” he said.

“
Never mind Eve,” Grace
said. “She didn’t sleep well last night.”

Eve looked sharply at her sister. Grace had
barely stirred throughout the night and had woken bright-eyed and
in excellent spirits, a testament to a restful night. How did she
know Eve had lain awake, eyes wide in the darkness?

“
I am sorry to hear you
didn’t sleep well,” Lord Rushton said.

“
You slept like a baby, I
presume?”

“
I barely have my land legs
back. The roll of the ship always lulls me.”

He almost sounded wistful.

“
Where will we go first?”
Grace asked.

“
To the bank,” Lord Rushton
answered. “I sent word that I would be arriving.”

Grace beamed. “Very wise of you, my
lord.”

“
Thank you,” he replied,
and Eve was sure he was thinking that if he hadn’t made sure to
procure funds Grace would have mutinied. “After the bank, we will
break our fast,” he went on. ”Then I hope to deposit you ladies at
a boutique where you can find everything you need for your stay in
Scotland.”

“
How long a stay do you
anticipate?” Eve asked.

He flashed a smile. “If you are asking how
much money you can spend, spend to your heart’s content.”

“
How generous of you,”
Grace cried. “Is he not kind, Eve?”

“
Beware of Greeks bearing
gifts,” Eve muttered.

His brow lifted. “I am no Greek.”

“
Oh, but you could
be.”

“
Never fear, my lord,”
Grace said. “We promise not to send you into penury.”

He canted his head. “That is much
appreciated.”

“
Have you been to Belfast
before, my lord?” Grace asked.

“
I have.”

Of course, he had, Eve reflected as Grace
quizzed him about the city. Belfast was an easy stop on the voyage
between England and the Isle of Mull. He likely knew the banker,
the dressmaker…the dressmaker. He would know the dressmaker if he
had brought other ladies there. She cut off the thought. Lord,
she’d lost her mind. Who cared why he knew anything or
anyone
.

He pointed out landmarks as they appeared. He
spoke in soft tones and Grace replied in kind. He smiled when she
clapped in delight at the sight of a confectionary shop he promised
they would visit on the return trip to the ship. He explained how
Belfast had become a center for the manufacture of linen and
Grace…well, Grace was actually listening with seeming interest. And
Lord Rushton seemed to like her interest.

Was Grace right, would the two of them get on
well together? He had no desire to marry, but was obligated to
carry on the title, as well as manage the estates that supported so
many people. But who would manage him? Manage? Eve inwardly
grimaced.
Tame
would be a better word.

In the year since his return from the war,
he’d dallied with two actresses, an opera singer, two widows whose
husbands had died within a week, one of the most notorious women of
the demimonde and—how many others that hadn’t made it into the
gossip sheets or the rumor mill?

Unexpected concern surfaced. Eve had been so
intent on avoiding marriage that she hadn’t stopped to consider how
Grace would be affected by his lifestyle. Did Grace understand what
it would be like to awaken late at night to the sound of his
bedchamber door opening and wonder what other woman’s bed he had
just risen from? What of the meetings in ballrooms with women who
she would later learn had been seen with her husband in a darkened
garden in recent nights? Eve hadn’t told Grace of the snide remarks
Lady Quincy and Lady Consworth had made two nights ago, but she was
sure to encounter such comments herself.

Grace would never remain in Scotland while he
moved through
Society
as if she didn’t exist. She would
insist on accompanying him to London during the Season, host house
parties at their country estates, and go for rides in the park. She
might understand and even expect that he keep a mistress, but Lord
Rushton didn’t keep mistresses, he had women. Eve stared at Grace,
who listened raptly as Lord Rushton pointed out The First
Presbyterian Church. Dear God. Her sister would make him the worst
sort of wife.

*****

“
You were right, Rushton,”
Somerset said. “The food is superb. I haven’t had such good pigeon
pie in ages.”

“
Indeed,” Grace Crenshaw
said. “You have excellent taste, my lord.”

“
I am glad it pleases you.”
He looked at Miss Eve Crenshaw, who sat at the table in the private
dining room between her sister and Somerset and picked at her food.
“You have barely touched your lunch, Miss Crenshaw. Is the lobster
pie not to your liking?”

“
As Lord Somerset and Grace
have said, my lord, you were right. Mrs. Larson is an excellent
cook. My appetite is not its usual self today.”

“
You aren’t seasick, by
chance?” He gave her a look of mock horror. “Miss Crenshaw, you
should have said something. In your concern for me, you have
neglected yourself.”

Her lips pursed, and he suspected she
repressed an urge to disabuse him of the notion that she had even
the tiniest bit of concern for him. When she said in a sweet voice,
“Never fear, my lord, if I feel any sickness coming on, I will find
you post haste,” he knew he was right. “Perhaps,” she added, “I
should force myself to finish the lobster…just in case.”

It was the devil in him, but Erroll had
always found the devil a livelier companion than any angel, so he
said, “We are stranded in Ireland, madam. As we must board ship
again in order to reach home we must hazard it.”

She paled. Erroll frowned. What had he said?
But he realized what he’d said—or what his words implied: she was
stuck with him. He’d never known a female to avoid marriage with
such vigor. He’d never known a female to avoid marriage at all, in
fact. She roused his curiosity. Erroll mentally grimaced. From
intrigued to curious. Montgomery was right, that’s how trouble
began.

The door to the dining room opened and a maid
entered, two plates of baked goods and small serving plates in
hand.

“
Oh my,” Grace Crenshaw
breathed as the girl set the confections and plates on the table,
then began removing their dinner plates. “Is that minced pie with
ambergris sugar?”

Erroll spotted the minced pie she stared at.
“I believe it is.”

“
It looks too beautiful to
eat.”

Erroll winked. “Don’t let that stop you.”

She laughed and he was surprised to note no
womanly wiles in the sound. She reached for a minced pie, then
hesitated and shifted her hand to a wigg bun. Her eyes flitted to
the candied fruit.

“
If I may.” Lord Somerset
lifted the tongs sitting on the platter to the left and put one of
the small minced pies on a dessert plate, then added a tong full of
candied fruit, and a wigg bun. He set the plate in front of the
lady and her eyes sparkled.

“
Thank you, my lord. I
would have been all day deciding which one to eat.”

“
Why eat only one?” he
asked.

She picked up the wigg bun and nibbled a
bite. Her eyes closed as if in ecstasy—Erroll was sure that was the
case—then she opened them and said, “Mamma says a lady should never
over indulge. It is impolite and adds to the waistline.”

Erroll had seen the mamma. She didn’t follow
her own advice.

“
Your waistline is in no
danger, madam,” Somerset said.

Grace glanced sharply at him, the bun frozen
half an inch from her lips. The surprise on her face mirrored
Erroll’s thoughts. Somerset found the girl interesting.

She, however, seemed shocked by his interest.
One would think she had never received a compliment. She was
breathtaking. Erroll would wager not a day passed that she didn’t
have some young buck confessing his undying love. She seemed to
suddenly realize the bun still hovered an inch from her mouth, took
a small bite, then set it on the plate.

Then an idea struck that Erroll thought just
might get him out of this mess.

*****

“
Are you certain you should
not have worn the blue day dress?” Eve asked Grace, as the clerk
placed yet another neatly wrapped package on the counter in the
rear of the shop. Eve shifted to gaze out the window where they
sat. “It is an uncommonly lovely day, and the blue might better
complement your eyes than the yellow.”

“
I will have ample
opportunity to wear both,” she replied.

“
I quite liked the gold
evening gown. I’m surprised you did not purchase it. You do want to
be sure you have enough clothes.”

“
The day is young.” Grace
took a sip of tea, then said, “I wonder that you’re not chiding me
for spending too much money, or were you being
delicate?”

Eve shrugged. “Lord Rushton gave you leave to
spend all you like.”

“
Us,” Grace corrected. “He
gave us leave to spend all we like.”

“
I made purchases,” Eve
said.

“
Two dresses, a few
underclothes and a nightgown.”

“
I do not plan to be long
in Scotland.”

“
Neither do I, but a man in
his position expects to spend money.” Grace laughed. “I imagine he
would think me quite strange if I chose to be frugal. Such a trait
is not to be commended in a marchioness.”

Eve watched a passing coach on the quiet
street beyond where Oscar sat with the driver atop the seat of
their carriage. When she was fifteen, and had gone riding with a
visiting cousin on a day much like today—well, a sunny day like
today. No other day in her life had been like today or the previous
three days. Her horse had thrown her, knocking her unconscious, and
her cousin had raced home for help.

Her parents weren’t home, but Oscar reached
her, and he carried her the quarter mile home. That wasn’t the
first scrape he’d pulled her out of, nor was it the last. He’d
practically grown up in her household and had proven a good friend
throughout the years, a bit of the older brother she never had. He
certainly watched over her more closely than many brothers did. So
why had he become the rat who was siding with the man who could
ruin her life?

“
Eve.”

Eve broke from her thoughts.

“
Where is your mind today?”
Grace asked.

“
My mind is on Lord
Rushton. He may expect to spend money, but we both know he is
accustomed to spending money on women with no intention of marrying
them. Can you really want to marry a man who admits he would make a
terrible husband and has sworn to attend to his pleasures as he
always has despite his marriage?”