A Scandalous Scot (12 page)

She reached under the bed for the book about the ghosts of Ballindair. She hadn’t wanted to tell him she’d taken it from the library.

Now, she lay awake, holding the book in her arms and feeling an absurd—and forbidden—connection to the Earl of Denbleigh.

Chapter 10

RULES FOR STAFF:
Make the proper demonstrations of respect to the family. Women shall curtsy. Men shall bow.

E
very morning, just after breakfast, Aunt Mary assembled the staff and gave them their assignments for the day. As housekeeper, she believed rotating people in their tasks made for a more skilled staff and a cleaner Ballindair.

This morning, however, Aunt Mary’s face was florid and her voice quavered as she spoke to the assembled maids and footmen.

“You’ve been shirking your duties,” she said, looking at each of them in turn.

When Aunt Mary focused her gaze on Jean, she felt like crawling beneath the bench on which she sat.

What had she done now?

“His Lordship informed me this morning,” her aunt said, “that the library was in deplorable condition. He stated that more than a few shelves were layered with dust.”

Aunt Mary’s gaze had moved to Fiona, and held steady on her. “I believe you were in charge of cleaning the library last week, Fiona. Is that not so?”

The woman paled, but nodded.

Then Jean became the object of her attention. “His Lordship specifically requested you be placed in charge of cleaning the library, Jean. Have you any idea why he would single you out?”

Catriona’s indrawn breath was a warning not to look in her sister’s direction. Instead, Jean studied the floor and shook her head.

“I have no choice but to accede to His Lordship’s demands.”

Jean sneaked a glance at her aunt’s face. Evidently, the audience with the earl had not been an easy one for Aunt Mary.

“You’ll take Jean’s place in the laundry,” the housekeeper said to Fiona. “Perhaps after you’ve boiled a few dozen sheets you’ll begin to pay more attention to your dusting.”

Jean knew everyone was looking at her, no doubt speculating why she’d been chosen by the earl. Aunt Mary continued her lecture, including admonishing each person to do his job to the best of their ability and to follow her dictates to the letter.

The lecture over, they all stood in two long lines to be inspected. Had there been a majordomo on staff, he would have been the one to examine the males. Aunt Mary did so now, rigorous and demanding with both sexes.

“Charles,” she said, “go and change your neckcloth. You’ve spilled some jam on it.”

“Sally, your hair is untidy. Your cap is askew.”

“I would have you brush your jacket, Mark, before presenting yourself.”

When she came to Catriona, her sister gave her a bright smile. Aunt Mary, always attuned to any hint of favoritism, only nodded to her niece.

The only public criticism her aunt gave Jean was a shake of her head, as if she despaired of ever making more of her.

Jean bit back her sigh, replacing it with a determined smile, all the while avoiding looking in Fiona’s or Catriona’s direction.

A few minutes later she entered the Earl of Denbleigh’s library and closed her eyes, experiencing the room as she never had before today.

The air smelled musty and tinged with the scent of leather and wood. Something else tickled her nose. Opening her eyes, she turned to the wall, sniffing at the mahogany panel. Tobacco. Had the previous earl smoked a pipe? Did the present earl do so?

How silly she was, to wonder at such things.

Like the Long Gallery, this room had been a haven. When she could, she’d escaped here in the evening, well aware that it was not allowed but unable to avoid both the lure of all these wonderful books, and the blessed solitude. For a few hours she could forget that she was a maid and simply be Jean.

Over there, on the small chair in the corner, she’d read Plato. One quote was oddly apt now. “Human behavior flows from three main sources: desire, emotion, and knowledge.” What, then, could she ascribe as the cause for her foolishness last night? Desire, of a certainty. She’d wanted, very much, to talk to the earl. Emotion? Loneliness, perhaps? What kind of knowledge had she possessed? She didn’t know anything. Instead, she had an abundance of ignorance about her own feelings. Why had she remained awake half the night, thinking of him?

She glanced up at the iron staircase. How many times had she mounted it in violation of the rules? How many times had she slipped to the back, to the settee, spending hours engrossed in one of the books? Would she ever be able to slip from her room again and come here? Prudence dictated not. Or not as long as Morgan MacCraig was at Ballindair.

But for a few moments last night it had been a magical time. The earl had talked to her as if she wasn’t a maid at all, but a person. She hadn’t thought of him as her employer or the Earl of Denbleigh, only a handsome man who’d made her heart beat faster.

Being with him had reminded her of a poem she’d once read in this very room.

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!

To all the sensual world proclaim,

One crowded hour of glorious life

Is worth an age without a name.

Had the minutes she’d spent with Morgan MacCraig been her time of glorious life? Oh, it had felt that way.

He’d made her feel like a woman. A female. Was it because he was so male? His collarless shirt had been opened, and she’d had the strangest compulsion to put her fingers against his throat.

The image of him naked came to her again, unbidden, and certainly forbidden.

She should recall the words of her grandmother instead.
A gowk at Yule’ll no be bricht at Beltane
. A fool at Christmas would not be wise in May.

Forcing thoughts of the earl away, she grabbed a cloth and went about dusting the first bookcase. She’d been sent here with a job to do, and she would do it as well as she could.

A noise from above made her stop and listen, but before she could investigate it further, Catriona opened the library door.

“You were with the earl,” her sister said, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Jean closed her eyes and prayed for patience. When she opened them, Catriona was still standing there, eyes flashing with fury. Twin spots of color on her otherwise porcelain complexion revealed the degree of her anger.

“Last night, you were with the earl. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was nothing to tell,” Jean said, directing her attention to the shelves in front of her. “We merely talked books for a few moments, and that was all.”

“You talked books with the earl?” Catriona asked, frowning. “Why ever for?”

“What would you prefer we discuss, Catriona? We were here in the library.”

“You didn’t flirt with him?”

Aghast, she stared at her sister. “Of course not,” she said, hoping her part of their conversation couldn’t be construed as flirting.

She’d left the library even when she truly wanted to remain. She’d been sensible despite herself. Now, here was Catriona, being the opposite.

“Are you sure you weren’t flirting?”

Jean fixed a look on her sister.

“Good,” Catriona said, smoothing her palms down her dress as if to accentuate the attributes straining against the dark blue fabric.

Jean concentrated on a large book that looked old, its binding so worn it should be sent to be repaired.

“Do you know what Aunt Mary has me doing today?” Catriona asked, holding out her hands. Each fingertip was stained black. “Blacking all the fireplaces in the downstairs parlors!”

“It’s better than starving, Catriona,” she said, moving to another row of books and beginning to dust.

“I’m beautiful,” Catriona said. “You must admit that.”

She glanced at her sister.

“There’s more to a woman than simple appearance, Catriona. She should have character, a loving, open heart, and the willingness to care for others.”

Catriona only smiled pitying at her. “How foolish you are sometimes, Jean. A woman should have courage most of all. I’ve decided to become the earl’s mistress.”

Jean regarded her sister with a mixture of shock and irritation.

“How are you going to do that?”

“By being in his bed when he retires tonight. He won’t be able to refuse me.”

Jean took a step back. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Catriona said, tossing her head. “I have to. I’m destined for greater things than being a maid.”

She’d promised her father to look out for her younger sister. For years she’d tried to protect Catriona. But how did she steer her sister to a bridge when Catriona was all for jumping into the river?

“You think throwing yourself at the earl is the answer? Catriona,” she said, lowering her voice, “have you no pride?”

“I have a great deal of pride now, Jean. What good does it do me?” She held out her hands, wiggling her black fingers.

“Have you forgotten he’s also our employer?”

“The better to secure our future, Jean,” Catriona said. “He wouldn’t dismiss you if I was his mistress.”

Stunned, Jean couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“It’s the perfect plan,” Catriona said. “What man could deny me?”

The question made Jean sick. Not only did it indicate Catriona’s willingness to give herself to a stranger, but the very fact she could devise such a strategy made her suspect that Catriona had done this before.

Had she parlayed her appearance to her advantage here at Ballindair? Before she could frame that question, her sister left the library.

W
ho would have thought a maid was Lillian’s double? Catriona’s hair was a slightly lighter shade, and Lillian had brown eyes, but in character they were evenly matched. Lillian, too, would not have hesitated to manipulate circumstances to her advantage. Nor would she have cared about another’s opinion.

Twice he’d wanted to interrupt the two women, but he’d been so interested in Jean’s response to her sister’s intentions that he kept quiet. Evidently, she was shocked, enough to stand there for several moments, staring at the closed door.

Since he’d been the recipient of too many similar ploys, he could only congratulate Catriona. At least she’d been direct and honest, which was more than he could say about the women he’d met in London, several of whom had been married, bored, and looking for a little entertainment.

As he stood listening, he felt both gratified and ashamed of himself. He’d been lying in wait for Jean, but if he hadn’t been, he would never have learned the extent of Catriona’s plans.

He had no intention of being her victim. Besides, he didn’t care for blondes anymore. Pushing aside the surprising thought that he preferred a plainer female, he watched as Jean left the library, then made his escape as well.

Chapter 11

RULES FOR STAFF:
Return all belongings to their owners on a silver salver.

“I
f the gal’s offering herself to you,” Andrew said at dinner, “you’d be a fool not to take advantage of the situation.”

Andrew’s unabashed pleasure in sex had been amusing at times, but it had never struck Morgan as unseemly. Perhaps Lillian’s infidelity had changed him, made him view the world through the eyes of a cuckolded husband.

“She’s a gorgeous creature,” Andrew continued.

“She reminds me too much of Lillian,” Morgan said.

“Lillian was a beautiful woman,” Andrew said.

His eyes narrowed as he regarded Andrew. “Were you one of her stable?” he asked.

Knowing his friend’s penchant for adultery, the question should have been asked before now.

“Do you think I would do that to a friend?” Andrew asked, standing, and looking like an undersized, irritated rooster.

A head shorter than Morgan, Andrew nevertheless possessed some quality making him appear taller than he was. Or perhaps it was simply that people forgot his stature in light of his charm.

“If you think me capable of that, Morgan,” he said, “then perhaps I shouldn’t have come to Scotland.”

Morgan rose as well.

“Forgive me,” he said. “My only excuse is that Lillian made a fool of me. I dislike being manipulated by any woman.”

“Even one as delectable as your little maid?”

“If you like her so much, trade rooms with me. You can take the opportunity to plead your case. Tell her how wealthy you are, that should do it.”

One of Andrew’s eyebrows rose. “Do you really think she’s going to be there?”

“I’m sure of it,” Morgan said. “Women like Catriona take advantage of every situation.”

“I confess to being fascinated with the little blonde,” Andrew said.

“You’re fascinated with any woman.”

“Ah, if that were only true, I’d see my wife more often.”

“She’s seen you at least five times,” Morgan said dryly.

Andrew’s laughter almost lifted the tension between them. Almost, but not quite.

“W
hat is it, Jean?”

She turned at her aunt’s approach, then went back to folding the last of the cloths and placing them on a wooden shelf. Aunt Mary insisted a maid’s job was not done until they’d replaced all their supplies in their baskets or pails. That way, they could start work first thing in the morning with no delay.

Aunt Mary walked closer, waiting until the last of the maids left the storeroom.

“You’ve been fretting all day, and your eyes didn’t leave Catriona at dinner. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, ma’am,” she said.

Catriona had avoided her all day, refusing her requests to speak with her privately. At their communal meal her sister wouldn’t look at her.

“Is aught amiss, Jean? Something I should know?”

Until the earl had arrived, she’d always been honest with her aunt, with everyone. Lately, however, she was awash in lies.

If Aunt Mary knew what Catriona planned, she could possibly prevent it. But then her aunt would discover that she had been in the library with the earl. There was every likelihood that, relative or not, her aunt might dismiss both of them. Her aunt’s position at Ballindair was very important to her, and she wouldn’t want the actions of her nieces to reflect on her.