The Laird Who Loved Me (17 page)

Alexander turned to Georgiana. “I need to stop what?”

“Glaring across the room at Miss Hurst as if she were an ill-behaved child and you her father.”

By Georgiana’s smile, he knew she was sure she’d hit her mark. For the last two days, she’d managed to mention the disparity between his and Caitlyn’s ages more than once. It was wearing, to say the least.

He glanced past her to where Caitlyn stood beside Roxburge. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about your husband. He seems quite taken.”

Georgiana shrugged. “If she wants him, she can have him. I have his name, and that was the best part.” She watched her husband flirt with Caitlyn. “At one time, it might have bothered me to see Roxburge flirting so. Now I just find it—and him—pathetic.”

Alexander ignored her. It had been an interesting two days, and he’d come to respect Caitlyn’s determination. It’d had been amusing to watch her try to manipulate Roxburge into giving up his precious snuffbox. It would take quick thinking to get the box if she ever got near it. Alexander smiled at the thought and found a good vantage point by the fireplace to watch.

She was seated by Roxburge’s side, attempting to cajole the old duke into showing her his prize.

She sent the old man a sideways glance from beneath her long lashes, smiling at the old roué as if he were a veritable Adonis. She listened to his muddled stories with rapt attention, laughed when he smiled, and in general flirted with him outrageously. Because of Roxburge’s advanced age, no one would think aught of it, and she was taking full advantage of that. So far, all she’d managed to get for her pains was one look at his snuffbox. When she held out her hand and asked prettily to hold the box, she’d been jovially but firmly rejected. Alexander had to grin.

As if she could read his thoughts, Caitlyn sent him a resentful glance. He merely bowed, letting her know he was enjoying the show.

Her cheeks red, Caitlyn renewed her efforts on the
duke. Alexander wondered if Roxburge’s eyesight was good enough to appreciate the cream of her skin and the way her disappointed lips curved downward.

The old duke said something to Caitlyn that made her blush and look away—right at Alexander. Her lips firmed into a thin line and she sent him a don’t-say-a-word glare before turning back to the duke. Though Alexander had no view of her except for one pert, challenging shoulder, he was sure she was now smiling for all she was worth. He chuckled softly.

“What’s so amusing?” Georgiana asked.

“I vow but I think Roxburge’s eyes have grown worse over the last few years.”

She glanced indifferently at her husband. “They’ve never been good, even when we first met.”

“That explains a good deal,” Alexander said smoothly.

Georgiana gave him a sharp look.

Across the room Miss Ogilvie played a light piece on the pianoforte, much to Lady Elizabeth’s delight. Unfortunately, that austere woman had no musical tone, and she marred the performance with her off-key hum.

Georgiana curled her lip. “I must invite more talented people for my next house party. I was just telling Dervishton how much I love a good play, and he suggested we do a reading one afternoon.” She continued on, but Alexander ignored her. She’d lately taken to throwing Dervishton’s name about, but if she thought to make Alexander jealous, she was wasting her time.
He could care less, and though she might not yet realize it, she wasn’t the younger lord’s primary target.

Dervishton was now standing by Lady Kinloss, though he gazed at Caitlyn with a hungry look in his eyes. His expression was so obvious that Lady Kinloss couldn’t help but glance between him and Caitlyn, obviously dying to know more.

Scowling, Alexander turned his attention back to Caitlyn, who now sat with her hands fisted on her knees. He had to stifle a grin. While Caitlyn might know her Arthurian history, he knew the people at the house party and had used that knowledge to his benefit. She hadn’t known how fanatical the duke was about his snuffbox and, since he could barely see his own hand when it was directly in front of his face, how he kept his treasure all the closer. The old man was a formidable guard for the small gold trinket.

Georgiana sniffed. “Miss Hurst would do well to watch herself. There are times when Roxburge can be quite out of line.”

Alexander gave a short laugh. “I would hardly call Roxburge dangerous.”

“Oh, but he can be,” Georgiana murmured, watching her husband squint at Caitlyn. “He is a lecherous old man.”

“He can barely see,” Alexander scoffed.

“Which is why none of the maids are safe, be they old or young, pretty or homely.”

Suddenly the old duke’s expression seemed a bit more leering and less pitiful.

As Alexander watched, the duke leaned forward and— “Damn it, he is looking down her gown!”

Georgiana nodded. “He is fascinated with breasts.”

“He can barely see!”

“Which is why he has to lean so very, very close.” Georgiana gave a witchy smile. “I’ve warned him time and again that if he doesn’t have a care, he’ll fall in.”

Alexander took a step forward, but Georgiana grasped his arm, all humor gone from her face. “What are you going to do? He does it to every woman. Besides”—Georgiana sent a hard glance at Caitlyn— “as out of line as Roxburge can be, I daresay our little princess can handle herself.”

Indeed, Caitlyn had just said something to Roxburge that had the old man turning red and blustering noisily. From the way Caitlyn’s arms were crossed over her chest, she was evidently far from pleased.

“See?” Georgiana said smoothly. “I knew the girl could handle the old baggage. Considering her position in life, I daresay she’s had to deal with worse.”

Alexander frowned. He’d never considered that before, but Georgiana was right—Caitlyn wasn’t as well protected as a young lady whose father commanded a title and a fortune, which was why he’d had such access to her in London. He hated to think that a more unscrupulous man had such an opportunity.

Although, according to her, he’d been unscrupulous enough. He scowled, not liking the thought. He’d never taken advantage of any woman and it was irritating that Caitlyn seemed to think he’d done just
that. She’d welcomed his advances, had encouraged their improprieties just as much as he had.

But—had she simply been more of an innocent than he’d thought? Perhaps, as he was older and more knowledgeable, more of the responsibility for their relationship should have rested with him?

An odd weight sat upon his chest. Damn it, that was
not
how their flirtation had gone. Georgiana’s comments were clouding his memory.

He watched as Caitlyn put some distance between herself and her host. The duke looked positively sulky as she curtsied and left, obviously in high dudgeon.

Before Alexander could make his excuses to Georgiana, Dervishton swiftly attached himself to Caitlyn’s side.

Georgiana chuckled. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The poor girl isn’t left alone for even a moment. I predict this will cause some problems with your plan for revenge.”

It damn well could have, as Caitlyn herself had pointed out. But now he and Caitlyn were playing a much more enjoyable game. The thought made him grin once again.

Dervishton took Caitlyn’s arm and strolled with her to a large portrait of Roxburge that hung on the wall down from the fireplace.

Watching, Alexander was struck anew by her grace. Every movement was an unconscious glide of sensuality. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he couldn’t help
but watch her, and neither could any other men in the room.

Georgiana curled her lip. “She is making quite a production of herself, isn’t she?”

Alexander shrugged. “She’s just walking across the room.”

“Shall we join Treymont and his wife?” Georgiana said coolly. “They recently returned from an auction of antiquities, where they acquired an Egyptian sarcophagus.”

“Certainly.” Treymont and his wife were just a few feet from Dervishton and Caitlyn. Perhaps Alexander could overhear their conversation and make sure she wasn’t enlisting the young lord’s help.

Georgiana slipped her hand through Alexander’s arm and they walked toward the fireplace, where the marquis and his wife sat talking before a crackling fire. Alexander found out that Treymont and his wife possessed a surprisingly vast knowledge of antiquities, and not until a good five minutes had passed did Alexander realize Caitlyn and Dervishton were no longer nearby.

He looked around the room. By the pianoforte, Falkland and the Earl of Caithness were arguing over the merits of a certain hunter while Lady Elizabeth and Miss Ogilvie looked on, laughing at the exaggerations the gentlemen were shamelessly employing. Dervishton was pouring himself a drink from a sideboard, looking put-upon, while apparently the duke
had already retired. He rarely lasted more than an hour after they had port.

A movement caught Alexander’s eye, and he finally saw Caitlyn, partially hidden beside two large palm plants beside the double doors. He could tell from her gestures that she was speaking with someone.

How odd. Alexander shifted to one side and saw a starched black skirt peeking from the other side of the plant. He shifted back another step and caught sight of reddish curls and a freckled face and recognized Caitlyn’s assigned maid.

The woman was whispering excitedly through the plant while Caitlyn listened intently, nodding. Soon the maid slipped away. Caitlyn glanced around, and Alexander barely managed to turn back to the marquis in time. Apparently satisfied no one had noticed, Caitlyn slipped from the room.

Alexander made his excuses from the group, ignoring Georgiana’s frown. He would wager his best riding boots that whatever drew Caitlyn from the room had to do with her task.

He was almost to the door when Lady Elizabeth appeared before him. “MacLean, just the man to settle a wager between Falkland and myself. You know something of the displays at the British Museum, do you not?”

“I’ve been on their board of directors for two years now, but—”

“Precisely! I explained to Lord Falkland here that
I’ve read numerous articles on the antiquities now being brought from Egypt—”

“As have I!” Falkland snapped.

“Yes, but apparently not the
correct
articles,” Lady Elizabeth said with all the confidence of a duke’s daughter. “MacLean, explain to Falkland that the Egyptian collection is—”

“I’d love to stay and help, but I’m afraid I must—”

“Come, MacLean!” Falkland blustered. “It will only take a moment. I cannot believe Lady Elizabeth believes such drivel!”

It was a full five minutes before Alexander managed to escape their rambunctious disagreement, and by the time he reached the hall, Caitlyn had disappeared from view. He stared up the stairs, wondering if she’d gone to her room. Unfortunately there wasn’t a single footman in sight to ask, so Alexander reluctantly returned to the assembled party. One way or another, he’d find out what she was doing. Of that, he had no doubt.

If ye canna compromise, then ye canna win. Oft in life, one depends upon t’other.

O
LD
W
OMAN
N
ORA FROM
L
OCH
L
OMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD EVENING

Caitlyn met Muiren in the hallway, where she stood with Mrs. Pruitt. The housekeeper was clad in her usual black, a white mobcap upon her stern white curls.

Muiren said in an excited voice, “Mrs. Pruitt discovered the duke asleep in the library! It looks as if he went there fer a glass o’ port afore retiring to bed.”

The housekeeper smiled slyly. “His grace fell asleep his snuffbox on ’is knee.”

A wave of relief swept through Caitlyn. “Mrs. Pruitt, that’s the best news I’ve had all week!”

“I wouldna help ye so much, except Lord MacLean needs some adversity in his life,” Mrs. Pruitt said firmly. “It’ll be good fer him, it will. Handsome men all need takin’ down a peg now an’ again.”

Caitlyn blinked, surprised at the vehemence in the housekeeper’s voice.

Mrs. Pruitt lifted her chin and said stoutly, “I’ve put up wit’ enou’ grief at the hands o’ scoundrels just like him.”

Muiren said in a low voice, “Mrs. Pruitt says all men from the upper classes are reprobates an’ scoundrels.”

“All men?” Caitlyn asked, wondering what incidents had caused Mrs. Pruitt’s bitterness.

“Aye.” Mrs. Pruitt turned and marched toward the library. Before she reached the doors, she paused. “Jus’ one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Ye’ll return the snuffbox to his lor’ship quickly? I dinna want any trouble for the staff.”

“I’m just going to show it to Lord MacLean, then immediately return it to the duke. He won’t even know it’s gone.”

“Very well, then.” Mrs. Pruitt peeked around the open doors, then gestured for Caitlyn to join her.

Caitlyn carefully tiptoed to the door. She could just make out the duke’s bald pate over the back of a large, ornate chair by the fireplace.

“Ye canno’ see it from here,” Mrs. Pruitt whispered, “but his hand is restin’ on his knee and he’s holdin’ his snuffbox.”