Page 25 of The Lady’s Sweet Revenge (Safely in Scotland #3)

W hen Reese came downstairs, Belle rushed up, pressing her huge head against his leg for a quick pat before she slinked into the breakfast room ahead of him, likely on the scout for some dropped morsel of food. But before he entered, someone stopped him.

“There ye be,” Mrs. Garrison said as she entered behind him. “I had Rupert check in on you a few hours ago, worried you’d fallen ill.”

Reese’s valet had not mentioned sneaking into his room earlier when he’d helped him dress.

“I’m well,” he assured her with a jaunty bow. In fact, he was more than just well . It seemed there was another inept word to add to his list.

“I can see that. You must have missed your mama something terrible, but you seem happy that she’s here.” Mrs. Garrison patted Reese’s arm the way she had when he was a lad.

Reese wanted to laugh at such a misunderstanding in regards to his happiness. Of course, it was best to let the housekeeper continue on in that line of thinking for he’d not be able to explain what had really put the smile on his face.

Clearing his throat, he nodded toward the door.

“Are they both waiting?”

“Aye. Lady Harlow was feeling better this morning.” She frowned and lowered her voice. “Your mother was up at dawn. Writing to let everyone in London know she’s arrived in the Devil’s Kingdom unscathed.”

Reese chuckled at the joke. All of the staff knew Lady Breckenridge was not in Slains Castle by her own doing. His mother had made it clear what she thought of the castle and Scotland in general.

“You should get in there. Poor Lady Harlow was being interrogated about her dowry.”

Reese winced and with a nod, left the housekeeper to assist the woman who’d shared his bed the night before.

When Reese entered the room, they were both looking at him.

His mother with a raised brow to show she was not amused that he was late, while Lo looked desperate for him to save her.

He wondered if she’d been as frighted on the Zephyr as she was now alone in this room with his mother and guessed it was likely a close thing.

He looked between them for a moment before narrowing his eyes.

“Whatever are the two of you up to?”

“Nothi—” Harlow started to speak, but the countess cut her off with, “I was just telling Lady Harlow how the two of you would make a splendid match.”

“Need I remind you, mother, I brought you here to keep us from being forced into a marriage neither of us wants, not to push for something that will never happen.”

He glanced at Harlow expecting to see her relief that he’d taken care of his mother’s meddling, but instead she looked as if she were in a great deal of pain. From the way her hand was reached up, it seemed the pain was somewhere in the region of her chest.

Reese hadn’t meant to lash out so abruptly, but his mother drove him near to madness with her constant meddling. Harlow still looked rather startled by his outburst, while his mother only frowned and looked away toward the window as if she were completely bored and totally disappointed in him.

She’d done the same ever since he’d been a lad.

He’d been so happy when he’d come down, but his mother had already put him in a foul mood. And to make it even worse, it had started to rain. Which meant he wouldn’t be able to steal Harlow away to the gardens or the beach alone where he might ravish her yet again.

If that was what she’d wanted. Part of him worried what she might be thinking in the light of day. And because of his mother he wouldn’t be able to just ask her how she felt about things this morning.

Why the devil had he made the countess come here?

Of course, he knew and as soon as his body calmed, he’d be glad for her presence once again, for it would mean no questions as to Lady Harlow’s reputation. Even though he’d destroyed it last night.

The ton, however, would never know of such things. That’s all that mattered. Appearances.

The way he appeared to be dead set against any thought of marriage to Harlow, when it had been on his mind as he’d come down the stairs only minutes earlier.

His mother did this to him. He would likely try to find a way to stop breathing if his mother told him to breathe.

“I must take Belle for a walk.”

“But it’s pouring and you haven’t even eaten,” his mother said.

He stalked to the plate that had been served the moment he walked into the room and snatched up the bacon before whipping out of the room toward the beach.

Belle whined at the top of the steps and looked back toward the house.

“Aye, lass. I will miss her this morning as well.” He tucked his hat firmly on his head before descending.

His dog—likely torn between duties to him and Harlow—paused twice on the way down.

Both times looking back as if expecting Harlow to be there.

He knew she wasn’t because both times Belle stopped to look, he did as well.

“Come!” he ordered and the dog followed along. On the beach, all duty was forgotten as the dog darted up the beach sniffing around each boulder. She stopped and barked incessantly.

“Please don’t let it be another woman. I’m up to my ears in them already,” he muttered more to himself as he hurried to catch up with the dog who had cornered a small crab that seemed set on defending itself and its place on the beach.

“Leave it,” Reese said, and then repeated when the dog hesitated and barked at the poor crustacean snapping its claws at Belle. Eventually Belle gave up to run away again, finding another creature to explore. Each time Reese called her away before she did something regrettable.

He and the dog were both soaked to the bone when they returned to the castle. Mrs. Garrison saw to sending Belle out to the stables until she was dried while Rupert had a warm bath and dry clothes waiting for him.

“Where is Lady Harlow?” he asked his valet as he slid into the warm water.

“Shall I ask Finch?”

“Aye.” Reese hoped she was in a room of the house without his mother so he might go speak with her, but when the valet returned with a wince, Reese knew it wasn’t to be.

“The ladies are set up in the drawing room with their needlepoint, my lord.”

He’d not join them there.

As he took his seat in his study to focus on his ledgers, he considered the situation and thought perhaps it was better this way.

His mother would force him to keep his distance from both ladies, and it would give him time alone to think about something other than Harlow.

But an hour later he realized he hadn’t done much besides think of her.

*

After spending every minute of the day with Lady Breckenridge, Harlow had been looking forward to seeing Reese at dinner that evening. When the meal was served before he arrived, she realized he was still hiding.

What she wasn’t sure of was if the man was avoiding her or his mother.

Perhaps he regretted what they’d done together the night before and was using his mother as an excuse to evade Harlow and any messiness he perceived between them.

Or, he really was that put out with his mother’s meddling.

Harlow wished she could tell the woman that her mention of them being a good match did little to help her.

In fact, Harlow wondered if the man wouldn’t be all the more obstinate about marriage after his mother pointed out how well they suited.

Perhaps Harlow should get the woman to protest against a match between them and that might make him want to marry. But again, Harlow didn’t wish for a match in that way. She didn’t want to look back and know that her husband had only chosen her because she’d schemed and tricked him into it.

If she couldn’t have a husband who chose her for herself rather than her fortune, at least she could refrain from deception.

After dinner, Harlow played for the countess and received a nod of approval. Harlow thought that might be the most that could be expected of the woman and tried not to be deterred by the woman’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Does he often take his meals in his room?” the countess asked.

Harlow opened her mouth to assure the woman he didn’t, but then realized how that might sound. While it didn’t prove anything, it heartened Harlow to know that he hadn’t taken to his rooms until after his mother arrived.

It was coincidence that it was the same time they’d spent the night together. Still, Harlow chose to pretend it was the countess rather than her. It made her feel better.

Instead of spending the rest of the evening cozied up on the settee in the library listening to Reese read from the Stonecliff novel, she was trapped in the drawing room with the countess who had taken up her needlepoint again.

Harlow rubbed her sore finger. If she was forced to stitch anything again this evening she might run out in the rainy evening screaming.

There was a saying her father used often when he lectured her and her brothers after they’d done something ill-advised.

“Be careful what you wish for.” It would have suited now for instead of needlepoint, the woman had poured them each a glass of madeira and begun recounting all the suitors Harlow had rejected.

Surely she couldn’t remember them all, for Harlow herself did not.

“What fault did you find in Lord Wilder?”

“Lord Wilder?” Harlow attempted to swallow. Despite the wine her throat seemed so dry. She didn’t recall Lord Wilder.

“The Marquess of Kent’s oldest son,” Lady Breckenridge reminded her.

“Oh, yes.” Harlow fought to remember anything about the man, but all she could grasp was the reason her brothers provided. And, of course, it was improper. Still, Harlow did her best. “I was told Lord Wilder looked more like the Kent’s footman than Lord Kent.”

Lady Breckenridge’s eyes went wide. “Lady Kent had an affair with her footman?”

Harlow frowned for she wasn’t sure if her brothers told her that because it was true or simply because it was an expedient way to scare her away from the gentleman. She wouldn’t put it past them to fabricate a scandal where none existed.

“Well… who can really say?”

The countess laughed, or as close to a laugh as someone as rigid as Lady Breckenridge would likely get.

“That explains a great deal about Lord Wilder.”

Harlow feigned a yawn. “Please excuse me. I grow tired earlier than before. Mrs. Garrison says it’s a sign I’m healing.”

“Then you should retire to bed. You don’t need to wait up with me. I assure you I am used to being alone.” The woman waved a hand toward the door. If Harlow were a better person, she would have stayed so the woman would need not be alone this night, but Harlow had somewhere else she wished to be.

In her room, she changed into her night rail, wishing for something prettier than the plain white garment he’d purchased for her when he was being courteous.

She went to the door and stopped still. Having grown up the youngest of six children she was usually better about seeing through a plan.

But it wasn’t until that moment that she realized she couldn’t leave her room to go to Reese’s until after she was certain the countess had gone to her room for the night.

There would be nothing she could say after convincing the woman she was exhausted if Harlow was caught wandering about the corridor when Lady Breckenridge came upstairs.

Sitting with her back to the door listening for the woman’s footsteps to pass her bedchamber, Harlow waited for her chance to steal away to Reese’s bed again tonight.