Beguiled (12 page)

As he guided her toward the old wing, he broached a subject that fit the congenial mood. “Will you accept the mayor's invitation to dinner?”

She stopped and let go of his hand. “Have you read the invitations that came to me today?”

Her expression could melt ice and blister stone at once. The right to inspect her correspondence was his by law. The rule of common courtesy called for better behavior. Respect for her urged him to offer an explanation. “Nay, I did not intercept your messages. The mayor's wife sent me a note to say that she was quite eager to have you to table. To that end, she encouraged me to use any influence I may have with you.”

“So you're trying to persuade me on her behalf.”

Looking down at the crown of her head, he noticed that golden pins secured the heavy coil of her hair. Each of the precious ornaments was embellished with a tiny thistle and enameled in lavender.

“Are you encouraging me, my lord?”

She had thistles in her hair. The traditional symbol of Scotland, worn by a very untraditional woman. “ 'Tis the neighborly thing to do . . . in the Lowlands.”

“Do you wish to escort me?”

He knew better than to answer that. “Do you wish to be escorted?”

“Only if you promise to take no other meaning from it.”

Other meaning. Straightforward Agnes MacKenzie was dallying with words. An interesting occurrence, having her yield the conversation to him. With relish, he accepted the task. “You mean will I assume that you harbor an affection for me if we do all of the normal things that accompany an evening out together.”

“Aye, that is what I mean.”

Now she was direct again, but she'd waited too late, and he intended to put her on the run. Urging her to begin walking again, he said, “That will include handing you to and from the carriage. Am I to assume that I'd be required to perform that small service?”

Grudgingly, she said, “Yes, and you're a troll to belabor it so.”

He felt lively inside and fought the urge to skip down the hall. “Part of my duties would also require me to help you on and off with your cloak.”

“A gentleman would perform that simple courtesy out of habit.” She sounded grumpy.

He felt divine and couldn't resist putting an innocent twist on his next words. “Will you want me to fetch punch for you?”

Her mouth pursed with humor. “I despise punch.”

“What of cutting your meat? You cannot wield both knife and fork with one hand.”

“I've managed so far.”

“And lost half a stone of your weight.”

“I am not gaunt, nor am I a cripple.”

“Good!” He made a show of being relieved, but his mind was momentarily lodged on the body beneath that alluring dress.

“You're wearing an interesting expression, my lord. What are you thinking?”

Savoring lustful thoughts about her was becoming a habit. “I'm thinking that I should suggest that the mayor's wife serve a stew.”

“Stop making a jest of me.”

“Me? You're doing a fair job of it on your own.”

“We are newly met, and a woman cannot be too careful.”

“Nor too prissy.”

“Prissy or not, may I remind you of the bell on the east door, so you won't wake the household, should you return late from a visit to your mistress.”

The line between right and wrong with her became hazy. They should not discuss his mistress. It was wrong in any man's rules. But with an insight that gave him great joy, Edward knew his association with Agnes MacKenzie would be like no other he had shared.

“I'll be so quiet when I return from visiting my mistress, even you will not notice.” Actually he had not planned to see her until the assassin had been found. Now he thought of ending the association completely. Could he make love to one woman with another on his mind? He didn't think so.

“Shall we make a wager of it, my lord? Ten pounds?”

“Not money. For my forfeit, I expect you to explain that business about scolding in your family.”

“Done, and if you visit your mistress and forget about the bell on the door to the east wing, you must show me your laboratory.”

He had intended to show it to her anyway, not that he thought his scientific endeavors would be of interest to her.

“We have a bargain.”

The pounding of hammers grew louder as they approached the old wing. “Did Burgundy allow you to disrupt his household in this fashion?”

“His grace did not share a residence with his children.”

Edward noted the slight scorn in her tone. “A practice you disdain?”

“Yes, but regardless of my opinion, 'twas better than draping his estates in mourning for the loss of his son.”

She could bite, and Edward smarted. “That's a wretched thing to say, Agnes MacKenzie.”

“The truth often is.” Satisfied at his reaction, she walked faster. “Please remember that the bowman reached Glasgow hours before us.”

“What makes you think I've forgotten it? My house is under guard for intruders, and you've brought in a dozen strangers—hardly an act of prudence.”

“I hoped you would trust me to hire honest workmen and maids. Gabriel and the others came highly recommended.”

He remembered the farrier in Whitburn, a man soon to be in Edward's employ. “In that regard, I do trust you.”

“Good. We must take away the assassin's every advantage and lessen his opportunities.”

The woman was relentless. “Will you please remember in whose home you reside? Jamie said he drove you to the docks. What were you doing there?”

She stopped in the Elizabethan wing. “Asking questions of anyone who might have information on the whereabouts of my sister. I do so in every port city I visit, because—well, that's the best place to look.”

“What if you had located her?”

Her smile was bittersweet. “Then I would now be offering my apologies and saying farewell to you.”

What had her father said? That she shouldered a guilt too great for ten men to bear. Edward understood, but that would not prevent him from speaking his mind. Holding the dust curtain that had been draped over the door, he said, “You overstepped yourself by ordering the carpet without my permission.”

Pausing on the threshold, she said, “The stairs are dangerous, and Hannah bragged about skipping down them. If he hasn't already, Christopher will eventually discover the fun to be had sliding down the rail. The laundry maid could slip, any of the servants could have an accident.”

“I insist on reimbursing you.”

“I assumed you would.” Again she delved into the sling. “Here's an accounting of the materials and wages for the workmen. If you like, you can put the money into Carrick's bank on my behalf.”

Edward took the list. She had saved him time. With her help, he could return to his work. The contracts with suppliers in India who furnished spooled cotton to his mill must be renewed soon, unless he perfected the new engine. When that occurred, he could buy raw cotton and spin it here in Glasgow, thereby saving an enormous amount of money and time.

In the old wing, all of the furnishings had been moved against the walls and covered with heavy cloths. The tapestries had been taken down, revealing the corridor that led down to his laboratory. The door in the convex wall that led into the tower stood ajar, and light poured through the opening. In his childhood the tower had been his favorite place to play, and the prospect of occupying it again brought back fond memories.

The smell of freshly cut wood filled the air, and a layer of sawdust coated everything, even clung to the damp stone walls.

“Starting at the topmost level, the carpenters are building staircases to replace the ladders.”

He couldn't help saying, “I hope you thought to order carpet—for safety's sake.”

“Mockery will be repaid in kind, Lord Edward. 'Twas a good idea, and only nicked pride keeps you from crediting me for it.”

“I'll save my pride for greater issues, if you please. Did you climb the ladders in the tower?”

She grew still. “Ladders, as in more than one? Nay. I touched only the one ladder.”

But the tower had two levels above this one and a battlement on top. He'd wager ten hours of time working on the steam engine that she'd lied or at least stretched the truth. He knew the way to find out. “I presume my telescopes were removed from the roof.”

“Telescopes?” She frowned. “I saw only pigeons and wayward gulls up there. The cobwebs were so thick—”

“Aha!” He pointed a finger at her. “So you did climb the other ladders.”

She knew exactly when to retreat. “Well, to your way of thinking, I'm certain I was foolhardy. Believe what you want, but I was careful. I do not relish injuries.”

She moved beneath the hole in the ceiling and peered at the workmen on the floor above. A saw grated loudly and hammers banged like flat drums.

“Have you decided who will sleep where?” He could offer a suggestion that was sure to make her blush again.

“I think that Hannah and Christopher should occupy the middle chamber, with a partition between them for privacy. Auntie Loo and I will take this chamber. You'll have the uppermost room, to be close to your telescopes.”

Lord, there was sauce in her tongue. Much as it pained him, he held to the intimate subject of sleeping arrangements. “The children will take the top chamber. You and Auntie Loo will take the middle. We'll have our meals and such in here. I'll sleep on the cot in my laboratory.”

“Will you be comfortable there? Can you rest well on a cot?”

“Aye, I've done so many times.”

“Shall we summon Auntie Loo and the children and tell them the good news?”

A crash sounded above, and before Edward could reach for her, a block of wood plunged through the opening and crashed into her shoulder. As he pulled her out of the way, her knees buckled.

“I've got you, Agnes.”

“I'm fine, truly.” She tried to pull away but didn't have the strength. “You needn't make a fuss.”

As he watched, she valiantly fought a swoon. Lowering her to the floor, he removed the sling. With half his attention on her eyes, he pulled the bodice of her gown off her shoulder. The bandage was clean, unbloodied. She hadn't torn a stitch, but the crown of her shoulder would be bruised anew on the morrow.

“Now you will rest.” Tossing the fabric sling at her, he said, “Cover yourself.” Then he swept her into his arms and hurried out the door.

“You needn't carry me,” she said through her teeth.

“Haud yer wheesht!”
he said, and headed for the main staircase.

“I cannot grasp why you must continually be so tiresome—especially in Scottish. I'm fine.”

“And I'm the bellman of Glasgow. Take notice, you and your special abilities are going to bed for what remains of the day.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you always such an ungrateful wretch?”

“Nay, on occasion I'm grateful.”

“Ha! A twist of my words.”

Now that she was out of harm's way, he let himself grow angry. “Spoken by a true novice of the sport of twisting words.”

“You're a knave.”

“For treating you as an equal?”

“Equal? An odd description for one who is being carried against her will. You're a boring cave dweller.”

Edward laughed. “What refinement in the face of defeat. Resign yourself, or I'll tie your good arm to the bed.”

“You never would.”

He did feel rather primal, and he liked it.

Noises sounded in the foyer. As he passed the entryway and turned to climb the stairs, Mayor Arkwright's wife stepped through the door. The parson and a smartly dressed military man followed.

Edward froze.

“Sweet Saint Ninian!” Agnes exclaimed, then warbled, “Good day, Commodore.”

“What are you about, Lord Edward!” huffed the mayor's outraged wife.

Agnes sent him a knowing look and whispered, “You should have let me walk. Equal indeed.”

As quietly, Edward said, “May we keep our disagreements between ourselves?”

“Who would care?” The sling slipped and fluttered to the floor, leaving her shoulder and too much of her breast exposed. “When word of this folly gets out, a disagreement between us will be old news.”

“Explain yourself, my lord,” declared the officer.

“I . . . uh . . .” He glanced down at her. “I was . . .”

Her brown eyes glittered with retribution. “Lord Edward is conducting a scientific experiment. I'm only helping him. Do tell them what it's called, my lord.”

An acceptable explanation eluded Edward, but he had to try. A coolness swept over him. “I'm doing a study on the relative properties of silk when put to the test of the gravitational pull.”

His guests gaped. Edward held his breath. Agnes fairly gloated.

In the uncomfortable silence, the officer said, “Lady Agnes, is that a bandage on your . . . ?” He couldn't quite name the place.

Relief swept over Edward. “Yes. Lady Agnes has injured herself and being her doctor, I—”

“Being my doctor, Lord Edward feels obligated to examine me.”

“Please be quiet,” Edward urged. “You're making it worse. Mayor Arkwright's wife looks ready to swoon.”

Lady Agnes must have believed him, for she relented. “Nothing untoward goes on here, Commodore. I've hurt myself 'tis all.”

Knowing opinion was going against them, Edward asked Mrs. Johnson to show the guests into the parlor. Then he lifted Agnes higher into his arms and carried her to the stairs.

In her room, he lowered her to the bed. “We've done it now,” he said, more to himself than to her.

Straining to see the damage to her shoulder, she said, “I'll change my gown and speak with the commodore.”

“Absolutely not. I'll manage Hume and the others. You stay here.”