“Perhaps, but it is far less dangerous to be the one making the challenge.”
“That is nonsensical. There is no difference.”
He smiled indulgently. “You have clearly never fought a duel.”
They entered the corridor and Eve started to precede him down the narrow passage, but he laid a hand on hers, preventing her from pulling away. His fingers exerted gentle pressure and Eve fought the impulse to look down at his hand, which felt as if it had swallowed hers in warmth.
“I am surprised you would suggest I engage in another duel.” His deep voice caressed her like the soothing water of a brook. “You seemed quite overwrought when I challenged Neville.”
Her stomach somersaulted in response to the remembered fear that he would die in that duel. “You were so set on dueling with Lord Halifax that I assumed it was a hobby of yours.”
“Ah, but he deserved it. Burns, on the other hand, isn’t worth the risk I would have to flee the Continent.”
She looked sharply at him. “What?”
He smiled down at her. “Not every battle is worth fighting.”
Her stomach did another, harder, somersault. “You are a strange man.” Eve realized what she’d said and clapped her free hand over her mouth.
His eyes lit with amusement. “And you are a very unusual woman.”
She removed the hand from her mouth. “That is not a compliment.”
“But it is.”
They turned a corner and Eve watched the floor ahead of her. “Do you think Lord Burns will truly help apprehend the press gang? What is your plan? You didn’t tell me what happened.”
“Not my plan, Miss Crenshaw. Ash will deal with the slavers.”
“But you told Lord Burns you wanted to speak with him about them.”
“Yes. I will apprise him and James of what happened. They might be able to provide information that will aid Ash in discovering the slaver’s destination.”
A strange melancholy seeped through her. “Of course. You won’t remain in Scotland long enough to help.”
“Sadly, I will not.”
“I am surprised you can do without the pleasures of London long enough to marry.” The words barely passed her lips and she wondered what kind of idiot she was for opening that can of worms.
“I know my duty,” he said with such obvious amusement that she wanted to box his ears.
“You had better speak with Lord Burns before he has a chance to remember why he came here,” Eve said. Lord, she had to change the subject. “I saw what you did to him.”
“What did I do to him?”
“You turned him from a charging bull to a supporter.” A light began to glimmer in her mind. “Now that I think of it, you got Leslie to nigh worship you.” And all with a wink.
“Worship me?” He laughed heartily. “You have a way with words, Miss Crenshaw.”
Eve looked at him. “You—you are doing it to me! Good Lord, I see it now. You’ve been doing it all along. Oscar was determined to kidnap you, but he scarcely had you inside the carriage before you charmed him into chasing after me instead. Lord Somerset follows your commands without a whimper when only days ago he wanted to challenge you to a duel.”
“Challenge me to a duel?” Lord Rushton frowned. “Why on earth would he do that?”
“Don’t pretend you have forgotten when you walked in on him and I at—oh, whatever party it was. He was furious with you.”
“I do seem to recall he was overset, but surely it wasn’t so bad that he wanted to shoot me?”
“You know he wanted to shoot you.” As did she. Eve was beginning to feel the urge yet again, then the last piece of the puzzle fell into place and she understood the thought that had begun to form when she observed how the earl handled Lord Burns. “You are a diplomat!”
He looked at her in surprise. “I think you overestimate my abilities.”
“I highly doubt that.”
He considered for two heartbeats. “I am…able bodied.”
Eve’s pulse stuttered. What was he saying?
“Of course, I have yet to prove just how able bodied.” His fingers flexed on her hand and her stomach quivered— as it had last night just before she’d melted beneath his touch. “But I stand ready to command.”
Ready to command? Scorching heat crept up her cheeks.
They turned another corner and a massive room came into view a few feet ahead. They entered and Eve was forced to concentrate on each step her legs took as he continued toward the long table in front of a massive hearth. His hand stubbornly remained on hers and she felt as if she were heating up like the large pot that hung over the fire.
Tapestries adorned the walls, illuminated by a scattering of lit sconces. Through an open doorway near the fireplace, Eve glimpsed a woman opening the door to a large stove and wished with all her might she could return to her room. Her cheeks were blazing. If any of the women saw her they would surely know something improper had passed between her and Lord Rushton.
“Will we dine here?” Eve asked.
“Not tonight. This room is reserved for larger parties.”
“You might consider just such a party. I can see the room filled with ladies and gentleman dancing. Grace is a wonderful dancer. She would be delighted to partner with you.”
“Madam, I have no intention of stepping into the lion’s den.”
Before Eve could reply, a woman stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Good afternoon, Laird.” Her gaze shifted to Eve.
“Belinda, this is Miss Crenshaw. Miss Crenshaw, may I present the honorable Mrs. Henderson. She is the housekeeper I mentioned earlier.”
Eve smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you,” she replied. “Would ye like a bite to eat?”
“Belinda is the best cook in all the Highlands,” Lord Rushton said. “Perhaps as good as your Mrs. Larson.”
He remembered her cook’s name? Heaven help her. Eve smiled at Mrs. Henderson. “Just tea, if it isn’t too much trouble. The long journey is beginning to catch up with me.”
“Unexpected trips have a way of doing that,” he said.
Eve startled. Was he reminding her of his kidnapping? “Beware,” she said with asperity, “there is yet time for more surprises.”
“You have a perverse sense of humor, Miss Crenshaw,” he said, then added, “Tea, Belinda. I believe the lady needs fortification.”
Mrs. Henderson ducked back into the kitchen, and Lord Rushton said, “Shall we sit?” he nodded to the bench at the long table.
Eve nodded and sat down as she said, “My lord, Grace and I cannot simply rusticate here as if on holiday. You must marry Grace and I will return home with the news to my father.”
He sat down beside her. “I don’t think so.”
Eve was caught off guard by his quick response. “If he doesn’t hear from us soon, he will come in search of us and I assure you, he will not be pleasant.”
“If you return home unmarried, he certainly will be unpleasant.”
“I can deal with my father,” she said.
“Miss Crenshaw, you aren’t an idiot. You know he won’t let you remain unmarried.”
“That is not your concern.”
“But it is.”
“It is selfish to force me to marry you because you want Grace less than you want me—and I do not want you.”
He shrugged. “I think you do.”
Her mouth opened in shock. “You are an arrogant ass.”
“You cannot have only just noticed that.”
“Let me be clear—” From the corner of her eye, Eve spied a girl emerge from the kitchen with a tea tray. Eve waited until she set the tray on the table and left before continuing, “I have no intention of marrying you because you made the mistake of coming into my room.”
“Will the fact you had me kidnapped do?”
“You, sir, are not a gentleman!”
“Sadly, I am not.”
Eve stared. “You are purp
osely being obstinate.”
“I believe I once pointed out that we are alike.”
“l will not make you a good wife.”
“I see.” he nodded. “I said I will make a bad husband, so you are responding in kind.”
She shook her head impatiently. “You misunderstand. I will not remain here in Scotland.”
“That is fortunate, for neither shall I.”
Dread stuck like a knife clear to her soul. She envisioned them retuning to London—and him returning to the women he touched just as he had her. “What I mean is, that I shall never return to Society,” she quickly added.
“May I ask why?”
“I cannot be a Society wife,” she said.
“Exactly what is a Society wife?”
“A woman who marries out of obligation, then looks the other way while her husband lives his own life.” And she lives her own life, Eve privately added. “Grace can do that. I cannot. But, my lord, you would not flaunt your mistress in front of her, would you?”
“I do not keep a mistress,” he said coolly.
“That is only because even a mistress would not countenance a protector who fraternizes with other women like a butterfly flits from flower to flower.”
“Flits from—Madam, I do not flit.”
“Of course you do, but you will not do so after you are married—” at least she prayed not “—which means you will then keep a mistress as discreetly as other men of your station.”
“Married folk have lived together with just that sort of arrangement for eons,” he said.
“Not all. But you will, for you must choose a bride not out of love, but on the basis of her qualifications.”
“I think, my dear, the choice has been made.”
”Sir,” she began, then hesitated. “In Society, a wife cannot become too attached to her husband. I know this will sound foolish to a man like you but, well, I had rather planned on liking my husband.”
“And you do not like me?”
“No—I mean, yes. Oh, you know perfectly well what I mean.”
“You had hoped to form a more serious attachment than that permitted an earl?”
She nodded. “Forgive me, my lord, but that is your life. Not mine.”
“It seems my life is not to be envied,” he murmured.
“I did not mean it that way.”
He gave her a gentle smile. “I know.”
His gaze moved past her and Eve looked over her shoulder. A tall, older man strode toward them.
Lord Rushton leaned toward her and whispered, “Gather your wits, lass. You are about to meet the marquess.”
Chapter Sixteen
Erroll rose as his father approached, and pulled Miss Crenshaw up with him. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said as the marquess halted in front of them. “May I present Miss Eve Crenshaw? Miss Crenshaw, my father, the Marquess of Rushton.”
She dipped into a perfect curtsy. “My lord.” She rose.
“Miss Crenshaw,” he said. “I trust you are well?”
“Very well, my lord, thank you.”
Erroll was impressed. The lady had collected herself in two heartbeats and was conducting herself as if she hadn’t arrived at Ravenhall ahead of what promised to be one of the biggest scandals of the decade. To his father’s credit, he wasn’t revealing any of his earlier misgivings concerning her. But the marquess was nothing if not the modicum of gentility.
“And the rest of your party, they are well?” his father asked.
“Indeed,” she answered. “My sister is enjoying herself immensely. She has already visited the ladies solar and the…pink parlor, I believe it is called. She tells me it is immense.”
The marquess nodded. “That is Lady Rushton’s favorite. So you have not seen it, then?”
“Not yet. Grace is more energetic than I. But I’m sure I will.”
“How are you finding Ravenhall, otherwise?” he asked.
“It is beautiful—” she laughed and Erroll liked the sound “—and large.”
“Erroll must show you around. He knows the castle’s every nook and cranny.”
“I would be happy to act as guide,” Erroll said.
She angled her head in acknowledgment. “I shall inform Grace.”
“I believe I mentioned the lion’s den, madam.”
Her gaze sharpened. “I suggest you procure a whip.”
That was the best advice he’d heard in some time, and he knew just which Crenshaw sister he would use it on.
The marquess cleared his throat. “I see you were having tea. When you are finished, Erroll, I need a word.”
“Pray, do not let me stop you,” Miss Crenshaw said. “I am ready to return to my chambers.”
“No need to rush,” his father said.
“It is no rush.” She looked at Erroll. “My lord.” With that she curtsied and left.
When she disappeared into the hallway, the marquess said, “Your mother expects us to attend church tomorrow.”
“Church?” Erroll blurted. “I haven’t attended church since I was twelve.”
“That may have been a mistake. But that aside, she wants us there for the next three Sundays to hear the banns read.”
So his mother planned to ensure that the marquess heard that Erroll intended to marry Eve Crenshaw, not Grace Crenshaw. “I suppose we must go, then,” he said, and pictured Miss Eve Crenshaw leaping from the pew with a curse when her name was spoken. But as much as the elder sister didn’t want to marry him, the younger sister was even more determined that she should marry him. He recalled her cry, “He is mine!” when she’d discovered him on top of Eve in her bed. Grace would likely throw just such a tantrum that would start the church-goers buzzing, while his mother watched with wicked delight.
“Did you seek me out just to inform me we are to attend church?” It would be like his father to do just that, especially if his mother suggested it.
“No.” The marquess nodded to the bench at the table.
They sat and Erroll poured the tea he and Eve had left untouched.
“After the service, your mother wants to visit the graveyard,” the marquess said.
Erroll’s hand jerked and tea spilled onto the saucer. He stilled. “We have guests, perhaps—”
“Oscar will accompany the ladies home.”
Erroll didn’t reply, but filled the cup and placed it on the clean saucer.
“You will not disappoint your mother,” his father said.
Erroll set the cup in front of him. “Of course not.”
“Have you spoken with your future bride?” the marquess asked.
“As you saw, I was just speaking with her.”
“Do you think you can thwart me, lad?”
Erroll poured tea for himself. “You have a choice, sir. Accept my decision, or I will be off with Miss Eve Crenshaw as quickly as it takes to saddle a horse.”
“I wager she will not go.”
“If my charm is not sufficient enough to persuade her, I’ll throw her across my lap.”
“Isn’t that what Halifax did to her?” the marquess asked.
“I never said I was any better than him.”
“If what you say about the lady is true, then she deserves better.”
Erroll spooned sugar into his tea. “She deserves better than me, but what is done is done.”
“I will speak with her,” the marquess said.
“You will not.” Erroll set the spoon down with a clank. “I warn you, sir, interfere in any way and I will take Miss Crenshaw and elope. You wanted me to marry, I have made my choice.”
His father regarded him. “What has your mother to say on the subject?”
“I suggest you ask her. Now, is there anything else you needed?”
A hint of rare amusement appeared in his father’s eyes. “There is.”
Erroll canted his head. “I am at your service.”
“What do you think of Ash managing your affairs here in Scotland?”
&nb
sp; “I think you will have a devil of a time getting him to agree. He is quite attached to his own land.”
“It won’t be as difficult as you might think.”
Erroll paused in lifting his teacup to his lips. “I take it you aren’t asking my permission, but are informing me that you have already put him in charge.”
“Since you are here, I thought it best you should know.”
Erroll shouldn’t have been surprised—or hurt. He had, after all, steadfastly ignored Scotland in all its facets. He took a sip of tea, then grimaced. Cold. “What of Angus?” He set the cup down.
“Angus will deal with Ravenhall only. The estate requires full time maintenance. He was spread too thin.”
The gaping hole Val left when he died was even bigger than Erroll had imagined. But, then, he hadn’t allowed himself to imagine anything beyond what he’d tried not to feel.
“Ash will deal with the day-to-day workings,” his father went on. “When the time comes, you will see to the ledgers.”
“He will have complete autonomy?”
“He is capable,” his father replied.
“That he is. There is not much else to say, then.”
“Not necessarily. If your venture goes well in Norfolk, I would like to try it here on Mull.”
Erroll leaned an elbow on the table. “I am not certain there is a great need. Here there is plenty of land to plant.”
“But many men have left for Australia and the Colonies. Others were taken against their will.”
Erroll nodded. “Better opportunities.”
“Exactly. We must give our men a reason to stay. Perhaps this new trade will be an incentive.”
“Perhaps. Bring Ash when you come to Norfolk for the harvest. The two of you can learn as much about this new brand of farming as I.”
His father hesitated, then nodded. “If you think that is best.”
“You and Ash can easily run things here. I would only be in the way.”
*****
The maid set a plate of poached chicken on the dining room table in front of Eve, shuffled left, put a plate in front of Lord Somerset, then set a third in front of his father at the head of the table. Eve lifted her fork and rooted the food around on her plate.
“Are you all right, my dear?”
Daring Lords and Ladies Page 30
