Highlanders

by Tarah Scott

  The diver's eyes widened and Oscar's forehead furrowed in uncertainty, but he said, "We never said anyone hired us."

  "And I never said I wouldn't shoot to kill, but you were astute enough to reason it out. Now be good lads and get into the coach."

  They didn't move.

  "Surely protecting your employer is not worth getting shot?"

  Oscar's lips thinned, but the other man shifted nervously.

  "I will double what your employer is paying you," Erroll said.

  "We are not traitors," the brute shot back.

  "I don’t want to spend the next ten years in Newgate," the driver said.

  "You will not spend one night in prison," Oscar said.

  "You underestimate me,” Erroll said. “You gentlemen and your employer shall spend a great many years in prison. Even if I were disposed otherwise, my father will not be so lenient."

  Hesitation and fear, the first Erroll had seen from the brute, appeared on his face.

  "David and I will take any punishment you give, as long as you promise not to involve our employer," he said.

  "Hold on there," David burst out. "I never agreed to prison."

  "Be quiet," the brute growled. "You knew the risks." He returned his attention to Erroll. "Do we have your word?"

  "You do," he replied, his curiosity intense. He had to know what sort of employer would engender such devotion that the brute was ready to face prison.

  "Renege on your word and I’ll break out of prison and kill you," the brute said.

  Erroll blinked, then laughed. "Never fear, I wouldn’t think of going back on my word. Facing such a righteous wrath would be far too taxing."

  The brute nodded, then surprised Erroll by speaking the one name he wouldn't have suspected in a hundred years, and the very name he should have suspected.

  *****

  Despite the malice in Lord Halifax’s gaze, Eve tried to relax on the seat opposite him. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a passing coach and shifted to find Lady Middleton staring as the vehicles passed within a foot of each another. Lord Halifax abruptly leaned forward and Eve caught the widening of the woman’s eyes in the instant before he yanked the curtain closed. Eve considered crying out, then realized the earl would be upon her in a flash and no doubt would silence her with the back of his hand.

  He settled back onto his cushion, and Eve smiled as if nothing was wrong. "Forgive me, my lord, but I do not understand what is happening."

  "Rushton must learn to mind his own business."

  A cold ribbon of dread threaded through her veins. "If you are referring to the encounter in the gardens, I think there is a misunderstanding. Lord Rushton did not interfere. Lady Gallagher parted company with you of her own accord. You are a gentleman, I cannot believe you would have pursued her."

  "What I would have done is no more your concern than it is Rushton's."

  “Of course not,” Eve answered. "I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. What sort of jest do you have in mind to teach him this lesson?" She giggled. “I love a good joke, and I must admit that I would not mind putting one over on him.”

  "You shot the man. You have no more love for him than I do." His expression turned speculative. "Perhaps kidnapping you was unnecessary. You might be a willing participant."

  "Indeed, sir. As I said, I love a good joke. What have you in mind?"

  "I have in mind to whisk you off to Gretna Green."

  *****

  A little more than an hour later, Erroll stood in Lady Grendall’s ballroom. He was going to settle things once and for all, though how he was to deal with a hoyden willing to kidnap a man in order to avoid marriage was beyond his scope. He still couldn’t believe she thought she could marry him off to her sister. The ridiculous scheme outdid all others devised by even the most determined mammas who had tried to marry him to their daughters.

  He scanned the room for Miss Crenshaw but found no sign of her, which meant she could have moved onto any one of a dozen other parties going on tonight. He would be wiser to confront her tomorrow, but the thought of waiting frustrated him all the more, not to mention, he wanted a confrontation that didn't include her father. If he didn't catch her tonight, God only knew when the next opportunity would arise to waylay her.

  From the corner of his eye, Erroll caught sight of Somerset striding toward him. Judging from the man's stride, he intended to accost him. Damn the fool. Erroll had no time—or inclination—to deal with Miss Crenshaw’s spurned lover. Is that what Somerset was, a spurned lover? The idea fueled Erroll's frustration and he experienced a strong desire for a boxing match in which he would lay the man flat on his arse.

  The viscount reached him, and Erroll said, "I'm in no mood for your lectures, Somerset. I advise you find someone else to bully. I have had my fill for the evening."

  "Enough of the theatrics," Somerset snapped.

  Erroll eyed him. "I am never guilty of theatrics."

  "I am happy to settle whatever petty grievance you have on the dueling field," Somerset replied.

  Who is prone toward theatrics? Erroll wondered.

  "But for now," the viscount went on, "I want to know what you have done with Eve."

  "Nothing—yet." His inclination that first night had been correct: he should have throttled Miss Crenshaw when he had the chance.

  "I left the alcove with you," Somerset said. "That was over three hours ago."

  "I warned you about being so familiar with Miss Crenshaw," Erroll said. "Did it occur to you that she and her mamma simply moved on to another party?"

  Erroll had concluded that being seen at as many parties as possible was part of her plan. That way, no one could accuse her of being with him or being associated with his kidnapping. The woman was as skilled at scheming as she was with a gun. What other wicked skills did she hide? If their brief encounters were any indication, he had yet to discover a good many of those talents. Given the trouble she’d already put him to, he deserved the chance to root out the most sinful of her gifts.

  "Lady Crenshaw hasn't been seen since I left her with you," Somerset said.

  Erroll's attention snapped onto him. "What?” Before the viscount answered, Erroll said, “Where is Lady Crenshaw?"

  As if he'd conjured the woman, she appeared at his side.

  "Lord Rushton, oh, but I am so relieved to see you. I cannot find Eve." She glanced around the room, her brow furrowed as her eyes came back to him. "I am so worried.”

  Erroll gave her a reassuring smile. "No need for concern, madam. Your daughter is well. I saw her not long ago. Leave it to me, and I will find her for you"

  Relief washed over her face. "Oh, thank you. I will leave her in your capable hands."

  Erroll nodded. The wench would find herself in his capable hands soon enough and he knew exactly what he would do to her.

  Chapter Seven

  Eve stared at Lord Halifax. "Gretna Green? I love a good joke, but this goes too far. I will not marry you simply to thwart Lord Rushton."

  Lord Halifax gave a derisive laugh. "I have no intention of marrying you."

  "Then why go to Scotland?" Several answers came to mind, each more insane than the last.

  "Rushton will not be able to marry you if you elope to Scotland with another man," Lord Halifax answered.

  "You have miscalculated, sir. His lordship has no wish to marry me. All you’re doing is providing him a reason to cry off."

  "You obviously do not know Rushton."

  "No," she began slowly, "but I do know that he doesn’t want marriage—to anyone."

  "True," Lord Halifax agreed. "But the pompous bastard values his pride above all else. He would gladly use you, then discard you without thought. But he will not countenance you preferring marriage to another man."

  "I feel certain he will not mistake my abduction for a desire to marry you."

  The malice returned to his eyes. "I am not the first man with whom you eloped. Ruston will believe it."

  Her cheeks bu
rned with embarrassment.

  “Word of our elopement will spread as quickly as did the fact you shot Rushton,” he said, “and everyone will believe that you will do anything to avoid marriage to him."

  He was right. Society would gobble up the story with relish. Eve had known the scandal with Lord Rushton would force her from London society, but a supposed elopement that ended without marriage would make her persona non grata in all polite circles.

  “No offence, my lord, but why would anyone believe I was more predisposed to marry you than Lord Rushton? They will simply believe I had an affair."

  "An affair?"

  A shiver snaked down her spine at the purr in his voice.

  "You may be right," he said.

  "Good," she replied. "Then we can stop at the nearest inn and—"

  "Stop at the nearest inn? Why, Miss Crenshaw, had I known you were so willing, I would have kidnapped you long ago."

  Eve frowned. "I beg your pardon."

  "You will have to be patient, my dear. I cannot chance anyone catching up with us before gossip has circulated through the ton."

  "Gossip?" Eve repeated.

  A slow smile spread across his face. "Never fear. I will give you as much of my cock as your sweet body can take before we are discovered."

  *****

  Erroll heard enough of the story to grow concerned. According to Oscar, a maid had almost caught him and Miss Crenshaw in the act of lugging Erroll, unconscious, from the gardens, which meant, the gardens was the last place anyone had seen her.

  He sent Somerset to nose around for anyone who might have seen Miss Crenshaw, then headed for the balcony where he could slip around to the kitchen entrance and speak with the maid who had last seen her. Finding that maid without drawing attention to himself was going to be a magical feat worthy of Merlin’s talent. Over two hours had passed since she’d gone missing, so it would appear doubly odd that Erroll was searching for his future bride. But there was no help for it. As he neared the doors he caught sight of Paisley. The earl hurried to catch up with him and motioned him onto the balcony.

  “Where the devil did you disappear to with Miss Crenshaw?” Montgomery demanded as they stopped several paces from the door. “I saw you with her earlier, then overheard Lady Crenshaw asking about her, and grew concerned.”

  “You haven’t seen her?” Erroll asked.

  Montgomery shook his head. “No. Is something wrong?”

  “I’m not yet sure.”

  “I wonder if Lady Quincy and Lady Consworth know of her whereabouts?” the earl said.

  “Why would they know anything?” Erroll demanded.

  “They were baiting her with some rather nasty gossip earlier.”

  “When was this?”

  Montgomery thought for a moment. “Nearly three hours ago, when she first arrived.”

  “What was the gossip?”

  “You won’t like it,” he replied. “Lady Quincy has a malicious streak.”

  “That she does.”

  “They said that perhaps you did not find the younger Miss Crenshaw to your liking, but you certainly wouldn’t settle for the elder. To her credit, Miss Crenshaw didn’t turn on them until Annabelle implied that you and the two sisters would share a bed after you married one of them.”

  “Good God,” Erroll growled. “That goes too far even for Annabelle. I will deal with her after I find Miss Crenshaw.”

  “Is it possible she simply went home?”

  “Unlikely. She was in the middle of a not-so-well laid plan that required she be seen tonight.”

  Montgomery’s brows shot up. “That sounds interesting.”

  A thought struck and a sense of apprehension rose. “What do you mean she turned on them?”

  Montgomery laughed. “She gave them both a well-deserved set-down, that included calling Annabelle stupid—well, dense, I believe was the word she used, but she meant stupid. I intervened before she could do any real damage.”

  “How fortunate for me,” Erroll muttered.

  “The ladies deserved what they got, but I decided it was best to save them from her wrath. I feel certain she was about to will them to ashes on the spot.”

  “I have been on the receiving end of that wrath. She is quite capable of the deed.”

  “Would that be when you were with her in her bedchambers at a certain inn?” Montgomery asked.

  “That would be the time.”

  “Exactly what happened? Rumor is, she shot you.”

  “She did.”

  His friend’s eyes glittered. “When you find the lady and set things to rights, I want to hear every detail.”

  “We shall see,” Erroll said. “But now I must find her.”

  Paisley lifted a brow. “In the gardens?”

  “I pray not.” Erroll took a deep breath and left his friend behind as he went down the stairs.

  He made his way through the gardens in the direction Oscar had said he should find the servants’ entrance to the kitchen. Moments later, he found the door and, without knocking, entered. The clatter of work came to a deathly-quiet halt and everyone stared. So much for not drawing attention to himself. His mother once told him he was incapable of being inconspicuous. As usual, she was right.

  “Forgive the intrusion,” he said to the woman he took to be the cook.

  She wiped her hands of the ham she’d been slicing and hurried around the table toward him. Erroll closed the door behind him as she stopped in front of him and bobbed a curtsy.

  “Are you lost, m’lord? I can have someone take you back to the ballroom.”

  “No, Mrs.—” he lifted a brow in question.

  “Childs,” she said, “Mrs. Childs.”

  “Mrs. Childs,” Erroll replied. “I—” he paused and motioned her a few feet to the right, away from the servants who stood still as mice. “I am looking for a young maid.”

  The cook’s eyes widened.

  “For information,” he quickly added. He was no good at this. “My fiancé encountered her earlier in the gardens. I am embarrassed to admit my lady eluded me. A lovers’ quarrel,” he added. “I hope to make amends.”

  The cook’s mouth twitched. “Happens to the best of gentlemen, my lord.”

  “Indeed,” he replied, and silently added, and the worst.

  “That would have been Sally in the gardens,” Mrs. Childs said. “I sent her for apples.” She nodded to the tray of turnovers on the table.

  “Ah,” Erroll said. “So you are the master baker that makes the famous apple turnovers.”

  She blushed. “I wouldn’t say famous, m’lord.”

  “On the contrary, they are the best in all of London.”

  Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “I couldn’t say, your lordship.”

  Erroll laughed. “I have had them. They are nothing short of extraordinary. Now, where might I find Miss Sally?”

  Surprise shone in Mrs. Childs’ eyes, along with a hint of admiration—yes, Erroll knew full well the affect he had on women, as well as the added effect of addressing the maid as a gentle born lady.

  As hoped, the cook offered with enthusiasm, “I’ll fetch her.”

  She disappeared into the scullery to his right and Erroll nodded to the on-looking servants. They jerked into motion as one, but he wasn’t fooled. They busied themselves, each with one eye on him. It was bad enough they’d been privy to his asking after Miss Crenshaw. He didn’t want them overhearing his conversation with Sally. One maid he might be able to talk into keeping quiet, but even an edict from on high couldn’t silence a full staff of servants. Erroll headed through the door, down the short hallway and turned into the scullery, coming chest to nose with Mrs. Childs.

  “My lord,” she cried, and fell back a step.

  Her ample rump crashed into Sally and Erroll seized each woman by the arm to keep them from falling.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Fine,” the cook replied, while Sally nodded, eyes wide.

>   Erroll released them. “I am a nuisance, I know.”

  “Oh, no, m’lord,” Mrs. Childs said. “I just didn’t expect you here.”

  He said with a laugh, “Most men shun the kitchen,” then added in a low voice as if he would get into trouble if discovered in the female domain, “especially the scullery. I’m just rather anxious. A groom to be.” He winked. “You understand.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mrs. Childs said, then faced the maid. “Sally, his lordship is asking about the lady you met in the gardens.” The girl’s eyes widened and she cast an anxious look at Mrs. Childs, who said in a no nonsense voice, “Answer his questions.”

  “I heard something in the bushes,” Sally blurted.

  His kidnapping no doubt.

  “I called out,” the maid went on, “and the lady came out of the bushes. She said—” Sally broke off again, and cast her eyes downward.

  “What did she say, lass?” Erroll urged.

  “She said she was under the weather and her future husband wanted her to stay at the party.” Sally jerked her head up, eyes wide. “She wanted to sneak out the back. I swear, my lord, I told her it was a bad idea, but she insisted.”

  “Of that I have no doubt. What then?”

  “I tried to take her to the rear exit, but she wouldn’t let me. Said it was just as dangerous for me to return to the house alone as it was for her to leave alone.”

  More so, in fact. The maid was fair game for any unscrupulous bastard she might have the misfortune to encounter.

  “So I came back to the kitchen.” Sally began ringing a corner of her apron.

  “Miss Crenshaw was angry with me?” he asked.

  Sally’s eyes widened and she gave a tiny nod.

  “And rightfully so,” Erroll said. “I was a cad.” Though Miss Crenshaw had yet to discover just how much of a cad he could be. “Nothing else happened?” he asked.

  Sally began to cry, but before Erroll could say anything, Mrs. Childs said, “Sally, girl, I will beat you myself. Now speak up.”

  Sally took a step backwards, then swung her gaze onto Erroll and said, “Just gossip, m’lord, nothing more. You know how people talk.”

  He knew well enough. “Go on.”