The Lyon's Laird: The Lyon's Den

by Hildie McQueen

  He continued. “Is English society so shallow to allow your limp to overshadow your beauty?”

  Just then, the orange cat sauntered through the open doors and into the room. Its green eyes looked him over. Seeming to find him lacking, the cat then turned away and walked out the door into the main house.

  “There are stronger reasons for my being single, Laird. I am not prepared to speak of them. I will tell you that my limp is involved. I am sure if pressed, anyone in our social circles will happily fill you in on the details of my fall from grace.”

  “I would prefer to hear it from you.”

  Her lips curved and he could not look away. The woman was exquisite. “Then you will have to wait.”

  “Tell me about your cat.”

  She looked toward the doorway, where the animal just walked through. “How about we sit in the garden? I will ring for something light. I have not eaten since morning.”

  Camren refrained from offering assistance to help her stand and she didn’t seem to find affront. He motioned for her to walk ahead and, for a beat, she seemed unsure. However, when she stepped forward, he noticed it was her right leg that was affected. From just the little bit she’d said, her injury was linked with whatever had happened that brought ruin to her reputation.

  Interesting.

  Evangeline couldn’t believe what was happening was real. The man exuded confidence. The rapid beating of her heart made her aware of the instant attraction to him.

  That, in her opinion, meant she had to extricate herself from the situation as soon as possible. There wasn’t any possibility that someone as able and virile as Camren Maclean would ever accept being trapped into marriage. The man was a laird, no less. In all probability, he had at least a dozen women back in Scotland with hopes of marriage.

  If times were different and she was as daring as she was in the past, she would consider a tryst prior to calling off the wedding. But the twinge in her leg was a reminder of how different things were now.

  Men were visual creatures, not attracted to women with physical shortcomings. She exaggerated her limp, swaying side to side unevenly, and actually found herself hunching her shoulders just enough to make it look as if she had trouble moving forward.

  “Evangeline, stop it at once.” Her mother was sitting under a shade tree and had caught sight of them. “Stand up straight and stop overstressing your limp.”

  She didn’t look over her shoulder but thought she heard Camren chuckle. “My leg hurts,” she replied, her face heating.

  “I doubt it hurts that much,” her mother replied.

  “Would you like to join us for a light repast, Mother?” Evangeline gave up the pretense and continued toward a table under a shade tree.

  “No, thank you. I am about to speak to Martha about dinner.” She waltzed out of the garden with a soft smile toward the laird. “My daughter is quite clever. Do not be put off by it.”

  “I find it refreshing,” Camren replied.

  They sat at a table under the shelter of a tree’s shade. The weather was perfect, just warm enough she didn’t need a heavy shawl, with a refreshing breeze.

  As put off as she was by the situation, Evangeline had to admit Camren Maclean was exactly the type of man she would not mind sharing her bed with. She wasn’t sure of forever, but he had promise of being a good lover.

  Best to put those thoughts away. Although he didn’t act bothered by her physical shortcomings, surely, he was just being polite.

  “Why are you in London, Mr. Maclean? I assume you have a home in Scotland.”

  He nodded. His playful expression revealed he knew she wished to keep the conversation light. “I do have a large home in the Highlands, two attached villages and many acres of farms.”

  “I see, and the reason for coming to London?”

  “I have a whisky distribution center here. I came on business and to spend a season here.”

  Mulling over what to say next, she decided it was best to change the subject. She didn’t want to speak of the way he’d come across Mrs. Dove-Lyon and how he’d been trapped into marriage. It boggled her mind how a matchmaker could force a man’s hand.

  “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  He nodded. “Two brothers and one sister. My brothers are younger and live with me. My sister is older and married. She lives in a house within walking distance.” He met her gaze. “I should ask the same in turn.”

  “You do not have to. I have one sister. She lives at one of our country estates. Have you met my father?”

  He shook his head. “No. I am to meet him today at dinner.”

  Dinner. She’d not been warned that he’d remain for so long. Evangeline looked toward the doorway and wondered how rude it would be to go in search of her mother.

  “My father and mother have both taken leave of their senses by signing me up to be married through a matchmaker. Do you not find it appalling?”

  “In the Highlands, marriages are usually brokered by the lairds or patriarchs. Neither the groom nor the bride is involved, nor asked for their opinions. This is much like that.”

  “Why are you not betrothed then?”

  His lips curved and the deep dimples that appeared on both cheeks took her aback. Evangeline had to tear her eyes away and she pretended a sudden interest in the foliage.

  “I was married and then not. I am not betrothed now because my father died unexpectedly and had not made any provisions for a marriage agreement. It is expected that I will eventually marry a Sutherland. Our clans are allies, but we have not been joined by a marriage. Although it would strengthen our clans and double our warrior numbers, there is, in actuality, little to gain by a marriage alliance.”

  When she looked back to him, their eyes met for a moment too long.

  “Here you are, some cheese and fruit. Dinner will be served in just a couple of hours.” Fran gave a short curtsy, her face a crimson red when she slid a glance to Camren.

  They were silent for a moment as Fran walked away. The girl moved at a snail’s pace, no doubt hoping to hear something to share at the market the next day.

  “Once we marry, I insist you return to Scotland with me.” His tone left no room for misinterpretation. The laird had spoken, and she was expected to obey.

  Evangeline’s right brow rose, and she let out a breath.

  “Is that so?”

  Chapter Six

  “How was your encounter?” Gideon did not bother hiding his curiosity. He’d rushed into the room as soon as Camren had returned home.

  “Interesting.” Camren accepted a drink from his friend. “I am not quite sure what to make of it.”

  The four hours he’d spent at the Prescott home had been rather pleasant. He’d enjoyed verbally sparring with Evangeline as she’d did her best to put him off without being overly disparaging.

  Her father, an actuary, was quite knowledgeable in the matter of London finances and had given him plenty of solid advice regarding Camren’s enterprises there. As a matter of fact, upon recognizing it was time to depart, he’d been reluctant to do so and had accepted the suggestion to play a game of faro with the family. The family banter reminded him of his own, which meant he thoroughly enjoyed himself.

  “Are you daydreaming?” Gideon studied him with a perplexed expression, his eyes narrowed and his brows lowered. “What happened to you?”

  Camren shook his head. “I actually enjoyed myself tremendously. Miss Evangeline Prescott is as beautiful as Mrs. Dove-Lyon promised and not at all happy about the proposition of being married off.”

  There was a discreet knock and Daniel entered with a tray. “This note was just delivered.”

  Gideon reached for it and tore it open. “Another invitation. This time, it’s to pay a call to the Monroe estate.”

  “Do we know them?” Camren asked Daniel who bit his bottom lip in thought.

  “I do believe Lord Monroe is on the list of men you wished to speak to regarding the business. He is quite wealthy.�
�� Daniel shrugged. “A meeting was requested.”

  “Ah, yes, you are correct,” Camren replied, going to his desk and sitting. He then shuffled papers until finding his diary. “We will accept the invitation.”

  The men arrived at the Monroe estate, having opted for a carriage instead of horseback. Ostentatious, ornate gates were opened, and the driver pulled through and directly to the front of an equally grandiose mansion. Huge marble lions on pillars presided over both sides of wide steps to an ornate front doorway.

  Two footmen came to the carriage. One opened the door after the other placed a stepstool for them to use.

  Both Camren and Gideon avoided the stool and stepped onto the graveled ground.

  “Welcome to the Monroe estate,” the footman said, bending at the waist until his face was level with the soil. The other one with stool in hand rushed to the front doors.

  Gideon gave Camren a knowing look. It was going to be a trying visit, where they’d both have to be on their best behavior.

  They were greeted in the foyer by another servant, this one obviously the butler. The man bowed, albeit not as low as the footman. Once they placed their calling cards on a tray, the butler asked that they follow him.

  Once arriving at an archway, he loudly announced their names. “Laird Camren Maclean and Mister Gideon Sutherland.”

  Inside stood a pale man, his arm artfully placed over the back of a chair in which a brunette older woman sat. On a nearby chair was a younger woman who looked both him and Gideon over with unhidden curiosity.

  Camren approached with Gideon just a step behind. “Lord and ladies, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  The man nodded and looked to Gideon who stepped forward and also bowed at the waist. “Thank you for your gracious invitation.”

  Lord Monroe’s hooded eyes roved over them and he gave them a slight nod. “May I present my wife, Lady Fern Monroe, and my daughter, Prudence.”

  The women both nodded, the older one smiling up at them in a way that didn’t quite convey warmth. “Welcome to our home. Please sit.” She rang a bell and two maids appeared with trays.

  “I do hope you enjoy brandy,” Lord Monroe said as the maids lowered a tray in front of both of them. “My own, made here on the estate. I normally serve spirits made locally,” he added.

  It was hard for Camren not to exchange a look with Gideon at the slight. Camren sipped the liquid and found it lacking. When he noticed Lord Monroe’s pointed look, he took a second. “It is quite good.”

  The man’s lips curved. “Of course.”

  Unlike the day before, the Monroes seemed awkward and stilted.

  Gideon, who was used to dealing with harder business clients, motioned to the lord. “May I ask about your process to make this brandy?”

  Prudence stood and motioned to a balcony. “Would you like some fresh air, Laird?”

  Because it would be rude not to accept, Camren got to his feet.

  The lord slid a look to Gideon. “Of course, but first I am curious. Tell me, Mister Sutherland, what is the nature of your business here in London?”

  They sought to separate them. Camren had full trust in Gideon to speak on behalf of their whisky company, so he followed the waif-thin Prudence out to the balcony.

  There was little comparison between this garden and the one he’d sat in the day before. He peered down to see a team of gardeners trimming flowers, working in silence as they pruned, swept and pushed small carts away.

  “They should have been done by now,” Prudence told him, following his line of sight. “I apologize for their appearance.” She grimaced. “My mother will be most cross upon finding out.”

  “In Scotland, I do not mind seeing my staff and villagers about. People who work are valuable.”

  “Indeed,” Prudence replied, not seeming in the slightest convinced. “I hear you called on my cousin yesterday,” she added, catching him off guard.

  He frowned. “You are related to Evangeline Prescott?”

  “Yes, her mother and mine are sisters. They are very different, as you are well aware, my mother taking after their father who had darker coloring.”

  Unsure what to say, he remained silent. Prudence resembled her mother in hair color but had her father’s colorless pale skin. A most unfortunate combination.

  “I hope I am not overstepping by warning that you must keep your distance from my poor dear cousin. She is not someone to be associated with if you wish to gain business within London’s polite society.”

  “I consider myself forewarned.” He hoped to change the subject. Not that he felt any kind of loyalty to Evangeline, but Camren hated gossip. Especially when masked as a friendly warning.

  Prudence placed a pale hand on his forearm and leaned forward, ensuring he had a clear view down the front of her bodice. Although well endowed, her almost transparent skin did little to affect him. Instead, his mind wandered to how much he’d enjoyed the glimpse of Evangeline’s bust.

  “Her fall from grace was more of a foolish, headfirst dive that left her ruined forever. The sad thing is, it was all her own doing.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I feel it is my duty to let you know she was caught bereft of clothing with a man, in public.”

  When he remained silent, she added, “Her penchant for seducing men was well known, however they remained whispers out of respect for my aunt and uncle. My heart breaks that because of her affliction that sent her to such extremes it caused my aunt and uncle to be utterly humiliated.”

  “They seem to be doing well,” he had to say, feeling a need to speak up for the Prescotts. “I enjoyed my visit with them very much.”

  Prudence’s face hardened. “I am glad to hear it.” She looked to the doorway and managed to move closer, their bodies almost touching. “If I may be forward and ask, Laird. Do you plan to marry her and chance taking a promiscuous woman back to your home in Scotland?”

  “Miss Prudence, your mother requests your presence,” interrupted a maid. The maid’s gaze pinned the spot where Prudence’s hand lay on his arm before turning and walking back inside.

  “Shall we?” Camren asked, motioning to the doors, relieved to put space between them.

  Once inside, the conversation was redirected to his and Gideon’s plans for their stay in London.

  “I must insist you both attend the gala next week,” Lady Monroe said. “Everyone looks forward to our spring ball with much anticipation.”

  “Of course, you must,” Lord Monroe added before taking a bite of food. His demeanor, that of someone who preferred to be anywhere rather than there, was quite comical.

  There was barely a spare inch on the table between platters of roasted duck, meat pies, puddings and platters of steaming vegetables of several types. Camren wondered why the family was trying so hard to impress him. There was little he could do for a family of such high standing.

  Camren decided it was best to wait until conferring with Gideon before accepting the invitation. However, it was probable he would have a hard time finding an excuse.

  “I will save you a spot in my dance card,” Prudence said, her eyes locked on his. “I would think a man from Scotland would be a great dancer.”

  “Aye, he is,” Gideon said, “but I am sure you’re aware he is recently betrothed.”

  The statement seemed to interest Lord Monroe whose eyes narrowed in his direction. “Is this true?” He looked to both his wife and daughter as if they held some sort of say in the matter. “I wasn’t aware.”

  Lady Monroe waved a dismissive hand. “The work of Mrs. Dove-Lyon. I wouldn’t call it set in stone.”

  It began to dawn on Camren that the Monroes considered him a potential suitor for their daughter. His blood ran cold. Somehow, he would have to get out of the situation without making enemies.

  “What of you, Mr. Sutherland?” Lady Monroe asked, eyes narrowed. “Have you been caught up in such an outrageous manner as well?”

  When he slid a look to Gideon who sat across t
he table from him, his friend scowled down at his food before looking to the woman. “No. I plan to marry a Scottish woman.”

  “I see.” Lady Monroe’s reply was curt. She lifted a bell and rang it.

  Camren started at a hand resting on his upper leg and sliding toward his inner thigh. He cleared his throat and slid at look at Prudence who looked the picture of innocence, her gaze forward. At the same time, four servants entered, two empty-handed and two with laden trays.

  There was little he could do. Standing was out of the question so he remained frozen in place as his plate was cleared and replaced with a smaller one that held a slice of fruit tart.

  Everyone ate very little, most of the food was left and he wondered again what the reason for the invitation was. “Lord Monroe, I appreciate your generous invitation to partake in this delicious meal. If there is anything you and your family require of us, please let us know.”

  “This is for social pleasure only, I assure you,” Lord Monroe replied. “Mr. Sutherland made me aware of the reason for your being in London. Although I have an extensive reach in London society, I rarely use it.”

  When the man paused, obviously waiting for them to plead their case, Camren forced a pleasant tone. “I can certainly understand.”

  An awkward silence followed as, no doubt, Lord Monroe waited for them to ask for his assistance, which neither Gideon nor he would do.

  “Well,” Lady Monroe finally said. “Should we go to the sitting room?”

  No one had touched their tart with the exception of Gideon. He’d speared it, lifted it, sniffed it and put it back down.

  Glad to escape Prudence’s meandering touch, Camren was the first to stand.

  The men followed the women out of the dining room to the sitting room.

  Lord Monroe and Gideon settled into chairs, while Camren went to stand by the hearth, feigning interest in a dull painting over it.

  “Tell us about your home, Laird,” Lady Monroe said.

  He hesitated as servants entered and poured sherry. Although he, too, had staff, he always poured drinks for his visitors. The Prescotts had done the same.