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A fter Frannie shook Thea awake the second time, Thea gave in and went upstairs to her bed. It was quite late. In fact, it was already the next day, but Thea had needed to make up for the words she lost that day because of the marquess’s interruptions.

A twist of guilt gripped her when she thought of Lord Flemming. While they’d been friendly previously, she’d all but kicked him from the cottage after he’d told her he had gamed in Flint’s houses.

Had Lord Flemming played against her brother and won? That last part was a given. If they’d played at all, Stephen would have lost because her brother always lost.

But not all men were like her brother. Just looking around her room she could see that nothing had been stripped from the cottage to cover an enormous debt. The man’s clothes were well tended and the servants were happy. All signs that the Flemming estates were in good health.

Not that it was her place to judge. But that hadn’t kept her from doing just that. She cursed into the darkness knowing she would need to find a way to apologize to the man in the morning when he arrived.

She’d been rude when he’d been nothing but kind. He’d allowed her to stay on his property when he had every right to throw her out. She needed to find a way to make it up to him.

Surely there was something she could do for him.

She didn’t sew or knit. Nor did she paint or sculpt. The only skill she possessed was writing and she was already busy with that. Still, she would look for some way to make herself useful.

*

Shay rose later than normal after a night fraught with demons and frights. He ate his breakfast quickly and was just ready to leave the house for the dowager cottage when Mr. Murray came in.

“A caller, m’lord. The Baron Whimsley.”

It was all Shay could do not to outwardly shiver.

“How did he find out I was in residence?” he whispered to the butler. Though from the sheer size of invitations he’d received the day before it was clear everyone knew he’d arrived.

“From no one in this house, I can assure you. He likely peeked in the windows.”

“I assume you jest, but I wouldn’t put it past the man.” Passing his snickering butler, Shay headed for the drawing room to find the short, toad-looking man studying a figurine purchased by some Buchanan long before he’d come to live there.

“Lord Whimsley, it is a—”

The man squeaked in surprise, dropping the figurine which shattered on the floor and cut off Shay’s lie at just the right place.

“Dear me, I am so very sorry, Lord Flemming. I do hope it was not of great value.”

The man surely had the funds to buy ten replacements but he was perhaps the most miserly man Shay had ever known. He would split a hay penny into a quarter if given the chance.

“Don’t worry over it.” Shay rang for Mrs. Murray who sent a maid in to tidy up while at the same time requesting tea be brought to the drawing room. Shay had tried to signal to the woman that he didn’t need tea for that would only extend the man’s visit. Truly it had already gone on long enough, and they’d yet to take their seats. Ready to move on with it, Shay sat, as did Lord Whimsley.

“I hope you didn’t run into trouble in London,” the man said. “You have returned before the Season is even half over.”

The man rarely came to town, Shane was surprised the man even realized it was the Season.

“I had things to see to here.” Like avoiding everyone but Thea Rockledge.

“Everything is so overpriced in Town. I don’t blame you for returning home as soon as possible. I assume you did not return home with a wife?” He chuckled at his own joke.

“You would assume correctly.” Though he could have easily found ten wives if he’d wished it, and it weren’t illegal. It seemed each year the marriage mart became more desperate. Fortunately, Reese attracted more notice than Shay.

“Good for you, Flemming. I’ve come to invite you to a dinner we are holding in your honor tomorrow evening. To welcome you home, my lord.”

“Please, you needn’t make such a fuss on my account.” Shay deeply wished the man would have agreed, but of course that is not how things were done in polite society. Damn it all.

“It is our pleasure to greet you properly. Say eight o’clock?” the man pushed. Shay wondered if he would need to bring his own plate of food for the expense of feeding everyone would surely be too great for Whimsley.

Since the man gave him a fair deal on hay from his own fields, Shay felt somewhat obligated to attend. Perhaps if he stayed out late enough he’d be too exhausted to dream. That would be a blessing.

“I’ll be there at eight,” Shay consented.

“Splendid.”

Shay had hoped with the invitation accepted, that the man would be on his way, but no. He stayed until the tea tray was delivered and set upon it like locusts on a tender crop. Not a biscuit or pastry was spared.

When he began eyeing the door as if waiting for Mrs. Murray to come in and bring more, Shay took matters into his own hands.

“Well, I should be off for my ride. I must see to some things on the property.” That was true, if not vague.

“Oh, yes. We so look forward to tomorrow evening. I’m sure it will be a successful gathering.”

Successful? Shay simply smiled and nodded. He didn’t know how successful a dinner could be. So long as one could get the food from one’s plate to one’s mouth, the purpose was certainly achieved. But rather than comment, and stop progress when the man was making to leave, Shay let it drop.

Mr. Murray brought the man’s hat and saw him out the door. With his guest gone, Shay made for the back door so he could see Thea. Nay. Not so he could see Thea, of course, but because he wanted to read more of her latest book.

As he walked faster, however, he knew it was because he also wanted to see the woman. Rather than lie to himself he decided to acknowledge that she was a beautiful, smart, witty woman who intrigued him. But that was all.

He was intrigued. Not interested, and definitely not smitten. Just intrigued.

He would much rather spend the following evening with her than go to Lord Whimsley’s home. It had been a few years since Shay had been to the baron’s house. The man had five young girls who’d not been old enough to sit for dinner, but who had entertained the guests with their singing. Though Shay had heard hounds hit more melodic notes than those girls.

Hopefully they’d improved as they’d matured.

Shay stopped walking, right there on the trail to the dowager cottage. He did a few simple mathematical calculations and guessed those squawking girls were likely between the ages of sixteen and twenty.

“Bloody hell.” He thought he may have puzzled out how such a dinner might be successful after all. If a tone-deaf baron’s daughter were betrothed to a marquess, it would surely be considered successful by Lord Whimsley.

What had Shay gotten himself into, and more importantly, how would he get himself out?”

*

Lord Flemming was late.

Well, not late exactly as they hadn’t made any finite plans as to when he would arrive, or even if he would arrive at all. He’d said he would see Thea the next day but now here it was the next day, and near to noon, and he’d yet to arrive.

She couldn’t help but worry that it was due to her rudeness the day before. She’d jumped to conclusions about him and hoped to find a way to apologize today.

If he ever came back, that is.

She hated that she couldn’t seem to settle without him sprawled across the settee. She’d left that space free of drying pages specifically for him and now he wasn’t even here.

She’d almost worked herself up to a frazzle, ready to head up to the castle herself and demand to know why he had not graced her with his presence, when she heard his heavy boots on her front porch. It was ridiculous that the sound made her shoulders relax and a smile pull at the corner of her mouth. Why was she smiling because a man came to read her book?

He didn’t care about her. He enjoyed an intriguing tale. That was all.

He nodded when he entered the room without waiting for Frannie to open the door and escort him inside. It might have been considered rude, but it was his house after all and it wasn’t as if he would catch her doing anything other than sitting in the drawing room writing. That was all she ever did.

Usually it was enough, but suddenly she wished for… more. She didn’t know what she thought by more , but when she considered it, the only thing she seemed to want more of was time chatting with Shay.

Shay. She shouldn’t even think of him as such. She would be more likely to slip up and actually use that name if she weren’t careful. She wouldn’t even have known what it was if not for Frannie mentioning it. Now Thea couldn’t stop thinking of it.

She’d done her best to do away with any of the fanciful thoughts of the man. But now here he was with that dark hair and those warm blue eyes. At least she’d stopped noting all the ways his body was large.

“Is everything well?” she asked when he simply stood there in the drawing room looking around as if he’d lost something. Perhaps there was a more serious reason why he’d been late. Not that he was late.

“I’m not sure. I believe I’ve gotten myself into something sure to cause regret and possibly life-altering ramifications.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she offered. After all, she’d wanted to find some way to show her gratitude for his letting her stay while also making up for her rudeness the day before.

He shook his head, but then stopped as he looked her over. A slow smile pulled up his mouth and she would not admit under penalty of death how the sight of it made her stomach flutter.

“Aye, Miss Rockledge, I believe there might be something you can do to help.”

He let out a slow breath which caused a bit of worry to distract her from his roguish grin.

“I wonder, Mr. Stonecliff, do you have any need for research on pretending you’re betrothed to a marquess to save him from being hunted by five baron’s daughters at a country dinner tomorrow night?” He laughed nervously. “Please, Thea. I’ll beg if needed. Save me.”

He had actually folded his hands together in front of him.

“You act as if every young miss plans to lure you into a trap.”

“I’ll remind you, I am a marquess, dear lady. And, so I’ve been told, not a hideous one, at that.”

She couldn’t argue with that, but she could needle him a bit. “Not a humble one either it would seem.”

He only chuckled at the words she’d muttered loud enough for him to hear.

“My coffers, while not overrunning with coin are not dusty either. And here in the country with no Season to explore one’s options, desperation begins to swell.”

“Hmm. While I would not mind a nice meal while watching you squirm, I did not plan for such a foray and have nothing suitable to wear.” The truth was even if she’d known she would be called upon to attend a formal dinner she wouldn’t have had anything proper to wear. All her best gowns had been sold long ago.

In another life she had looked forward to being invited to such events. She’d counted down the days until her come out when she would wear the finest gowns and attract a handsome man who would one day love her and be the father of her children.

She’d thought the loss of her father, sudden as it had been, was the worst thing that could have happened. She’d been grief-stricken as any daughter would be for losing her papa and then days later she’d lost her mama as well. What she didn’t know then was how their deaths would impact the rest of her life.

Now she hardly recognized the girl she’d been then. And those dreams of a husband and children seemed like nothing more than a story she’d written to entertain herself.

Lord Flemming, smiled before he raised his finger and called for Frannie.

“Yes, m’lord?”

“Do you know of anyone who can serve as a proper chaperone for Miss Thea tomorrow night? Preferably not someone from Nairnshire as we are to have dinner at the Whimsley House.”

“Oh, aye! My aunt would surely do it. She lives in Inverness and she’d love a good meal and a night away from my uncle. I’ll send a note straight away.”

“Actually, have the carriage brought around for I must take Miss Thea into Inverness anyway to procure a gown. Might you be able to help her?”

The girl nearly trembled with glee as she nodded. “Oh, yes! It would be so much fun.” Without another word she dipped a quick curtsy and rushed out of the house.

“I can’t help but feel like I’ve been lured into a trap, myself,” she said as the marquess fairly gleamed with smugness.

It seemed she was going to a proper country dinner.