The Laird Who Loved Me (28 page)

A cool hand was placed over his and he looked up to meet Georgiana’s gaze, frosty and demanding. In a low voice that shook with fury, she said, “I’ve addressed no fewer than three remarks to you and you’ve not answered a one.”

“I’m sorry. I was distracted by Lord Dingwall’s puce coat.”

Her lips thinned. “Oh? Thinking of getting one?”

“No. I’m distracted, not demented.”

She flicked a glance at the end of the table and then back to him. “I wonder.”

Alexander refused to rise to her bait. “Dingwall has become the life of the party.”

“Of course he has,” Georgiana said sharply. “He’s in the one house he never thought to be invited into. Why on earth did you demand that I allow that man to come here?”

Lady Kinloss tittered nervously, her gaze darting between Alexander and the duchess and back. “Though
Lord MacLean asked if Dingwall could come, it was Miss Hurst who brought him. I find that very odd!”

Georgiana’s lips thinned yet more. “I wish I’d never invited her.”

“She isn’t up to your usual standards. Not at all!”

Alexander had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something cutting, which would only bring more wrath on Caitlyn’s unsuspecting head. “Lady Kinloss, I heard that your dog went missing for a time today.”

“Oh my! I was so worried! He was gone for almost an hour!”

“Where was he?”

“I don’t know, but he lost his bow and he’s been acting most strange since he returned.”

“How so?”

“Why he licked the housemaid’s hand when she poured him a bowl of milk!”

“Astonishing.”

“Yes, and she told me that she saw him making up to your valet in the kitchen. Usually Muffin doesn’t like men. I find it most peculiar.”

“So do I.”

Georgiana sniffed. “Muffin may be turning into a lapdog. If he needs lessons, we can ask Dervishton. He had a head start in that area.”

Lady Kinloss giggled. “Or Lord Falkland! Dervishton isn’t the only one caught in Miss Hurst’s net.”

Alexander knew Georgiana was watching him closely to see his reaction, so he wisely hid his irritation at their pettiness. He might fault Caitlyn for
many things, but not once had he seen her encourage either Falkland or Dervishton. The problem lay more in the direction of what she
didn’t
do. She didn’t demand they leave her be, nor would she warn them off unless they were drastically out of line.

Lord Dingwall’s voice drifted to their end of the table. Alexander winced as the man, all in a tone of jocular fun, made several critical comments about the house and the food. Alexander was certain his intent was to make Georgiana squirm with anger, and she did.

Alexander was relieved when dinner was finally over. The women walked to the grand salon, while the gentlemen retired to the library for a glass of port.

Once Dingwall was out from under the watchful eyes of the ladies, he began to tell raucous stories about his skirmishes with the duchess, no doubt embellishing them to make himself appear wittier. Within minutes, he had Dervishton, Falkland, and Caithness in stitches.

If Georgiana got wind of this, she was bound to be even more furious.

Eventually, the group began to mingle. Roxburge was speaking animatedly to Caithness about the benefits of bathing in various hot springs, while Dervishton, Treymont, and Falkland were exchanging hunting stories and discussing which area of the local countryside was best for fox.

Dingwall downed yet another glass of port, smacked his lips noisily, and belched, then gave a blissful smile. “Pardon.”

“Would you like some more?” Alexander asked.

Dingwall’s glass was in the air in a trice. “Dinna mind if I do.”

Alexander nodded to a footman, who hurried forward to refill the glass.

Dingwall took another appreciative drink and sighed. “Ah, now. That’s the best port I’ve ever had.”

“It is excellent. So tell me, Dingwall, what magic did Miss Hurst perform to get you here?”

The old man grinned, his face wreathed in creases. “You know Miss Hurst?”

“Yes.”

“You wouldn’t be courting her, would you? I’ve looked at these other jackanapes, and they don’t seem man enough to handle a woman like that.”

Alexander was growing more intrigued by the second. “Did she threaten you? Does she have some sort of damaging information? Or did she bring a pistol?”

Dingwall gave a short laugh. “She might have. There’s no telling what was in that basket of hers. She kept my horse from biting her by throwing apples at its hooves. It was so busy munching them that it couldn’t munch her.”

Alexander had to admit that was brilliant.

“And to still the dogs, she had a dozen pig ribs that she threw all of the way on the other side of the road. Off the dogs went, leaving the front door unguarded.”

“That was good planning.” There had been more to Caitlyn’s basket than Alexander had realized.

“You don’t know the half of it. I was under siege! And by a mere slip of a girl, accompanied by a giant of a woman with hair in places she shouldn’t have. The giant had the nerve to tell me she’d steal my butler if I didn’t give the wee lass a listen.”

“I take it you listened.”

The old man slapped his thigh and laughed. “Damn right, I did. I had to. That butler’s worth his weight in gold—and if you knew how heavy he was, you’d appreciate just what that means.”

“So tell me, what did Miss Hurst say?”

“She dinna beat about the bushes. She came right out and told me she knew I was no good.”

“What?”

“That’s what I thought, too. Little mouthy slip of a girl! What could she know? But then she looked me right in the eyes and said, ‘I know a way you can turn the Duchess of Roxburge’s hair turn white this very evening.’”

Alexander had to smile. “How could you resist such a temptation?”

Dingwall chortled. “I couldna! And let me tell you, it’s been worth it and more. I’ve never seen the duchess so angry, even when I stole her poodle!”

Damn, Caitlyn was an unexpectedly tough opponent. She was resourceful, creative, and capable of getting any number of people to dance to her tune. “I’ve heard about that poodle.”

Dingwall finished his port. “Good dog, that. Wouldn’t give him back now if I could. Sleeps on the
foot of my bed. I changed his name from Graceful to Butch, though.” The old man snorted. “It’s a good thing I took him; that stupid name would have ruined him.”

Dingwall began to reminisce about his past dogs, Alexander pretended to listen, but inside he marveled at how Caitlyn had met her challenge. He was beginning to realize that no matter what task he set her to, she would find a way to make it happen.

A surge of admiration warmed him. By God, she was an unusual woman. He couldn’t imagine ever getting bored with her even if he spent his entire life with her.

Then icy cold gripped his throat.
My entire life? What am I thinking? She is beautiful, intelligent, and unique, but she’s also far more than a dozen years younger than I am.

A whispered voice deep inside him asked,
So? There are couples who have that many years between them and more.

That was true. Such as Georgiana and Roxburge. Alexander turned to look at the duke, who was now asleep in his chair, his chin to his chest, drool dampening his cravat. Alexander thought of the distaste in Georgiana’s eyes whenever she spoke of her husband, and his heart tightened with determination. If he ever took a wife, he’d make certain she’d
never
look at him with such disrespect.

Perhaps it was that, more than anything else, that had made his friend Charles think that taking his life
was the only possible solution for his predicament. When a man lost his pride, little else was left.

Alexander hardened his heart. Whatever future Caitlyn Hurst had, it was not with him. As soon as he could, he excused himself and made his way to the terrace. The cool night air whipped across the stone flag way, rustling the shrubbery and murmuring through the trees, stirring up the scents of pine and crushed grass. He rammed his hands into his pockets, lifted his head, and pulled deep, cleansing breaths of cold air into his lungs. The feeling of being pressed slowly subsided, and in its place was an odd emptiness, as if he’d left something behind, but didn’t know what.

What is wrong with me? Damned silliness
. He turned on his heel and reentered the library. Caitlyn Hurst was not for him, and that was the way it would always be.

“Georgiana, you must be careful,” Diane said.

“I’m done with that hoyden and her tricks! She brought
Dingwall
into my house, that—”

“Yes, yes,” Diane said hastily, glancing across the room where Caitlyn Hurst sat at a pianoforte talking to Miss Ogilvie, the two laughing merrily. “She brought him here, but you
did
say she might.”

“I never said a word to that—that—” Georgiana’s fingers curled into the palms of her hands, her nails biting into the skin. “Alexander is to blame for this! I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true: MacLean wants
the girl.” The words tasted like ash on her tongue. MacLean belonged to
her
, not some ill-bred country miss.

Diane gave a nervous laugh. “Do you really think MacLean wants her?”

“I’m sure of it. I’ve seen the way he looks at her.”

“He hasn’t been pursuing her like Dervishton.”

“Dervishton is merely playing. His finances require him to find himself a wealthy wife or, barring that, a wealthy patroness who will pay for his services.”

“Really? I had no idea!”

“Why did you think I’d invited him?”

“He seemed interested in you until—” Diane sent Georgiana a hurried gaze. “I mean, he’s quite a handsome man, too, though not as handsome as MacLean.”

Yes, Georgiana owed Caitlyn for the loss of Dervishton’s attentions, as well. Nothing about this house party had played out the way she’d wished.

“What do you intend to do?” Diane asked.

“I shall assist MacLean in his original game and ruin Caitlyn Hurst.”

“How? You can’t humiliate her in public; she’s made friends. The marquis and his wife think she’s charming. It would cause talk and leave you looking far worse than she.”

Georgiana’s stomach clenched at the thought. She’d fought hard to earn her position and keep it. She hadn’t allowed anyone close enough to discover her secrets … until Alexander MacLean.

But now she’d lost him, and to whom? A naïve vicar’s daughter. Georgiana would get rid of Caitlyn Hurst if it was the last thing she did, but not at the cost of her own position. She’d die before she gave that up. “I’ll think of something,” she told Diane, and she would.

She wasn’t the normal society woman, bound by conventionality. Whether he knew it or not, Alexander MacLean was hers and no one else’s. He was just lost for a moment, blinded by the tricks of a country bumpkin whose blood was no bluer than Georgiana’s.

“Diane, watch the door. The men will return soon, but I need to have a word with our young guest first.”

“What are you going to say?”

“Enough. Now watch the door, and let me know when the gentlemen return.” With that, Georgiana made her way across the grand salon until she reached the pianoforte. Fortunately, Miss Ogilvie had just left to fetch another glass of sherry and Caitlyn was alone.

Georgiana leaned over the pianoforte. “I daresay you think you’ve accomplished quite a feat.”

Caitlyn looked up from where she’d been idly playing a children’s song. “I hardly think playing ‘Five Currant Buns’ qualifies as a ‘feat,’ Your Grace. Had I been playing ‘See-Saw, Margery Daw,’ I would accept your accolade with pleasure.”

Georgiana curled her lip. “My, aren’t you full of good humor.”

A look of caution entered Caitlyn’s face. “Your Grace, is … is something wrong?”

“No. I was just feeling sorry for you, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Because when you leave us here at Balloch Castle, you’ll have to return to”—Georgiana waved a hand—“wherever you came from.”

Caitlyn’s face tightened but she answered pleasantly, “I’m from Wythburn Vicarage.”

“It’s quite sad, really, that you must go back at all. I know it’ll be very difficult for you. But that is the problem with charity, isn’t it? Eventually the project must return from whence it came.”

“I look forward to going home,” Caitlyn returned evenly, though her color was high and her fingers were curled into claws over the pianoforte. “I’m sure I’ll find it refreshing—a breath of fresh air after so much
staleness.
”

Georgiana stiffened, fury slicing through her veins and racing to her head. She wanted to throttle the girl, to close her hands around her neck and twist until she screamed. Instead, she said in a steady enough voice, “Stale? Shall I have a footman open a window? I daresay that’s another thing you won’t have—footmen and such. Why, you’ll undoubtedly be scrubbing your own crockery, won’t you?”

Caitlyn’s eyes flashed, and Georgiana continued, “I allowed you in this house for one reason and one reason only: because Alexander wished to humiliate you.”

“I know. He’s told me. But I think he may have changed his mind.”

It took every ounce of will that Georgiana possessed to force her stiff cheeks to relax into a smile. “You poor child, is that what you really think? That he’s changed his mind?”

Uncertainty flashed through the brown eyes. “I think he has, yes.”

Georgiana laughed, fed by the girl’s uncertainty. “My dear, you
are
naïve, aren’t you? Alexander has been playing you for a fool, and he’s enjoyed every moment of it. Come the final day, he will discredit you just as he planned. Why, just last night when we were in bed—” She paused and laughed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter if you know he and I share a bed on occasion.”

“I had heard,” the girl said, her chin high, her face suspiciously pale.

“Well, last night he was laughing about Lord Dingwall and how you came to invite him here.”

Caitlyn frowned. “He explained that to you?”

So there
is
something there!
“Of course he did. He tells me
everything.
”

The girl’s face flamed red.
“Everything?”