Page 15 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)
M urdoch descended the staircase after dinner, desperately wishing he still had his facial camouflage. Because the combination of his bare face and the much fancier clothes than he was accustomed to wearing made him feel supremely conscious of—well, of everything.
He’d even required help dressing, which he’d never needed before—one of Lady Drusilla’s manservants had helped him into his jacket and his boots, both of which were tighter than he was accustomed to.
“Oh! You look splendid!” Emily stood in the foyer looking up at him, her face alight with excitement.
Murdoch continued down the stairs, concentrating on not tripping and ending up in a heap on the floor.
Though that would mean he wouldn’t have to attend the evening’s gathering, so perhaps there was a benefit to losing one’s footing. But then he’d be going back on his word to give Emily a debut, to support her as she made her way into this new world as a young woman.
When he reached the bottom, Emily immediately went to him and put her hand on his cheek. “It’s so smooth! Lady Dru, come feel.”
Lady Drusilla was standing beside Emily; Murdoch had seen her there but hadn’t taken a good look at her, what with not wanting to trip over himself when he saw her.
His mouth felt dry. She wore a gown in a gold color that seemed to reflect the light with her slightest movement.
It was embroidered with gold thread, creating a rich texture that looked like the canvas for a painting.
Her hair was far tidier than he’d seen it yet, coiled in the back of her head and secured with a gold pin of some sort.
At her throat was a necklace of amber beads that dangled enticingly, while she wore white evening gloves and a matching amber bracelet clasped around one wrist.
“Lady Dru, I told you that you looked beautiful.” Murdoch heard Emily’s words through a haze—a haze of desire, and interest, and shock. And lust. Mainly lust.
“Thank you, Miss Emily,” she replied as she met his gaze. She bit her lip as she regarded him, almost as though she’d been unsure of his reaction, and he had to close his eyes for a moment, because the sight threatened to undo him.
Not appropriate to be panting after your hostess with your niece in attendance, after all.
“Well,” Lady Drusilla said, glancing between the two of them, “shall we go?”
“Make sure you take your wrap, Dru,” Miss Joey said as she emerged from some room or another with an incongruous piece of filmy fabric in her arms. She held it out to Lady Drusilla as though it were a poisonous snake.
“Thank you, Joey. What would I ever do without you?” Lady Drusilla said the words in an amused tone, but Murdoch could hear the truth underneath.
Miss Joey shrugged. “Likely have given away everything you own to someone with a good story.”
Lady Drusilla’s expression was startled. “Yes, but—never mind, we have to go.”
She turned on her heel and went out the door, only looking back once to see if he and Emily were following.
“Mind you watch out for her too,” Miss Joey said in a low voice to him. “Sometimes she forgets when she’s out in public, that kind of public, and she argues with someone over corn laws or whatever folderol the gentry have gotten up to.”
Murdoch’s eyes widened at the thought of having to watch out for Lady Drusilla as well as Emily.
Still, he could see the events Miss Joey was referring to playing out in his mind: some inebriated lord making a remark that Lady Drusilla took amiss, one that she would not ignore as other Society ladies, preferring politeness over righteousness, would.
“I will,” he said, before darting out the door.
Lady Drusilla and Emily were already in the carriage, and as he descended the stairs, he saw Emily’s hand waving at him to hurry.
He got in, sitting opposite the ladies on the backward bench. One of the coachmen shut the carriage door; then Lady Drusilla rapped on the roof, indicating the coachman should begin the journey.
Emily clapped her hands as the carriage lurched forward. “My first party! The first of many, I hope!”
Murdoch suppressed an internal groan, but he saw Lady Drusilla give him a quick, knowing glance, recognizing his discomfort.
He didn’t know how and when she’d sussed out that he was awkward among people—perhaps when Emily had called him a “Scottish oaf”—but he was secretly relieved that she knew the truth and he wouldn’t have to put up a facade, at least not with these two or, frankly, anyone else in Lady Drusilla’s chaotic household.
Though how much of a facade he was successful at putting up was likely a topic for debate.
“The important thing to remember about these types of events,” Lady Drusilla said, sounding as jaded as a seventy-year-old dowager, “is that people enjoy the novelty of new arrivals, but you have to be certain you don’t demonstrate your reaction to their reaction, if that makes sense.”
It didn’t, but Murdoch thought he knew what she was getting at.
“The truth is,” she continued, the amber gems at her neck twinkling in the intermittent streetlights, “people want to be with the people who seem not to want to be with them.”
“You mean,” Emily began, “that I shouldn’t say how happy I am to be there?”
“Anything but that,” Lady Drusilla replied with a mock shudder. “You can say it is pleasant— pleasant is an unassuming enough word.”
Murdoch started. Hadn’t he had the same thought earlier that day when Miss Joey had inquired about whisky?
“And you can express interest in the person to whom you are speaking, but not excessively so. Nobody wants to be friends with a dog.”
“What does that mean?” Murdoch blurted out.
“Dogs show their love for you constantly,” she explained.
“They run around and bark, they wag their tails, they jump on you.” She tilted her head in thought.
“Cats, on the other hand, are good role models. They are approachable, but only on their terms. They are able to walk away at any moment, they have their own ideas about what to do, and they are very concerned with cleanliness. Though that last one isn’t something that will likely come up this evening,” she said, as though reflecting on the idea.
“I mean, most people in Society bathe often.”
“I hadn’t expected we’d be discussing hygiene,” Murdoch observed.
She met his gaze, then burst into laughter, a full-throated, enthusiastic laugh that he couldn’t help but join in on. Emily joined as well, and the three of them couldn’t speak for a few moments.
“That is the best way to set out for a party,” Lady Drusilla said when the laughter had subsided. “If you just imagine everyone you’re about to meet—”
“Are dogs and you’re a cat?” Murdoch interrupted.
She chuckled again, nodding her head in agreement. “Exactly. Walk away when you’ve finished, don’t worry what people think of you, because if you seem as though you don’t care, they will want to be your friend.”
“Are you saying this because you like cats more than dogs?” Emily asked. “You’ve got cats in your house, and then there’s Lady Meow Meow—”
“Lady Meow Meow?” Murdoch said.
There was a moment of silence, and then she replied, “Well, yes, Lady Meow Meow is a taxidermied cat. In my bedroom.” Her voice was strained.
He couldn’t allow himself to ponder that or he would never stop.
“And there are many more there too,” Emily continued, “set up as though they are people and doing things. Things like going to parties, and having conversations, and I’m not sure what those two on the bed were—”
“Never mind that,” Lady Drusilla said, as Murdoch’s attention immediately went to the idea of some sort of taxidermied animals on beds. Together.
Now he definitely wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.
“You should show my uncle, Lady Dru,” Emily said. “I’m sure he would find it fascinating.”
“I’m sure I would,” Murdoch added, enjoying the rare sight of Lady Drusilla discomfited.
“Yes, well— Oh, here we are,” she exclaimed, as the carriage drew to a stop. “Remember, we’re all cats.”
With that nonsensical instruction, the three of them exited the carriage, facing a town house ablaze with lights, laughter, and music emanating from the windows.
This was it. This was what he’d promised. Be a cat , he said to himself as he followed in the two ladies’ wake. Be a cat.
W hat was she even talking about, anyway? We’re all cats. That was ridiculous, even for her frequent flights of fancy. Drusilla gave herself a mental shake, taking Miss Emily’s arm as they entered the town house.
She wasn’t very well acquainted with the Smithwicks, but she hadn’t heard anything but good things about them. This would be a good first party for Miss Emily, which reminded her she needed to plan Miss Emily’s party at her own house.
Later, she reminded herself, as her hands instinctively went to where she normally kept a notepad and pencil, except this gown didn’t have pockets.
Every gown, she thought grumpily to herself, should have pockets.
“This must be Miss Emily!” a voice said cheerfully.
A woman just a bit older than Drusilla, clearly the hostess, swept toward them. She wore a gown with flowers studded all over it in a deep rose color that was becoming with her dark hair. She was unremarkable in appearance, but her smile was infectious.
“You’re Mrs. Smithwick,” Miss Emily replied. “Thank you so much for the invitation.”
“My mother told me all about your situation. I am more than happy to invite you into our home,” Mrs. Smithwick replied. She turned to Drusilla, holding her hand out. “You’re Lady Drusilla, are you not? I believe we met at the Sneeds’ last Season.”
“I am,” Drusilla replied, shaking the other woman’s hand. “And this is the Earl of Cragmore, Miss Emily’s uncle.” She gestured to the earl, who made one of his excellent bows.