Page 17 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

N o obligation.

The words echoed in Murdoch’s brain, knocking about like rabbits searching for heather on the moors. He didn’t doubt that she meant what she said; thus far, he’d found her remarkably direct, unlike most people he’d encountered in his lifetime.

The offer was so tempting. He knew he wouldn’t refuse, though a part of him was well aware it wasn’t appropriate. The part of him that was very enthusiastic about accepting, however, would not be denied.

Nothing about this situation was appropriate. He and Emily were living at a stranger’s house, among her other strays, and he’d be lost without her guidance.

“Your niece is returning,” Lady Drusilla said, nodding her head toward where Emily approached. “Mrs. Smithwick must have done a good job introducing her—she looks radiant.”

Mrs. Smithwick accompanied Emily, a pleased smile on her lips.

“This is all going well,” Mrs. Smithwick announced. “Miss Emily is promised for the next—what is it, child, three dances?”

“Four,” Emily said, beaming.

She looked exceptionally pretty this evening; she wore the traditional white of a debutante, a gown with several layers of pale fabric, dotted with yellow roses.

The sleeves were mere suggestions of lace, while a pale yellow satin ribbon encircled her waist. Her hair was done more ornately than usual, with blond curls bouncing on her shoulders.

“Can I ask you to reserve a dance for me?” Murdoch asked.

Emily’s eyes widened. “Oh! I didn’t expect—”

“You didn’t expect me to be able to dance?” Murdoch interrupted with a smile. “I promise, I will not disgrace you on the dance floor.”

Emily blushed, looking down.

“Don’t tease her so, my lord,” Mrs. Smithwick said in an arch tone. “Of course you are an excellent dancer, what with being so—” And her fingers sketched something in the air.

Lady Drusilla stiffened. He wasn’t certain why, but he thought it had something to do with the gleam in Mrs. Smithwick’s eyes.

“I am not an excellent dancer,” Murdoch corrected her, “but I do know the rudiments.” He turned to Lady Drusilla.

“And speaking of which, can I beg you for the honor of the next dance? And you as well, Mrs. Smithwick,” he added.

It would be rude not to invite the hostess when she was standing right there.

Even though all he wanted to do was hold Lady Drusilla in his arms. He hoped the next dance was a waltz.

“Thank you, my lord,” Mrs. Smithwick replied, as Lady Drusilla murmured her acceptance. “And here is your partner, Miss Emily,” Mrs. Smithwick exclaimed.

A pleasant-looking gentleman strode toward them, a bright smile on his lips, his clothing much more elaborate than Murdoch’s own. Thank goodness, Murdoch thought, Lady Drusilla and Mr. Banford hadn’t tried to get him to wear any of that.

“This is the Honorable Anthony Beacham,” Mrs. Smithwick said.

The gentleman glanced around the group as Mrs. Smithwick made introductions.

On closer inspection, his suit was similar to Murdoch’s own, just cut a lot snugger, and Mr. Beacham wore a flashy diamond stickpin as well as a brightly patterned waistcoat.

“Miss Emily?” he said, holding out his arm.

Murdoch was pleased to see Emily didn’t look overly eager or starry-eyed; he’d fully expected her first party to cause a reaction, but she was more mature than he’d thought.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be impossible to persuade her to wait to marry?

“I will go see to my guests,” Mrs. Smithwick said. “And I will see you for the next dance,” she added, meeting Murdoch’s gaze. She walked away, leaving the two of them alone.

“I think we can safely say your metamorphosis into a Society gentleman is going well,” Lady Drusilla said in a dry voice.

He glanced over at her, one eyebrow raised in question.

She rolled her eyes. “Do you think Mrs. Smithwick would be so determined if you hadn’t shaved off your forest?”

“It was not a forest,” Murdoch objected.

She opened her mouth to retort, but he spoke again before she could say anything.

“I will allow a copse. Or a brake. But not a forest.”

She burst into laughter, causing a few people nearby to look over. But she didn’t, as he would have expected, smother her laughter. She merely made eye contact with the other people and smiled broadly, resulting in most of them returning the smile.

“I hadn’t expected you to be so witty, my lord,” she said in an admiring voice.

“I’m not, in general,” he admitted. “I think it has something to do with the London air, the circumstances, and—”

And you. But he didn’t say that.

“Oh, this is our dance,” she said, taking him by the arm.

“A perfect time for me to assess your skills. I’ve already hired a dancing master, but it might not be necessary.

” She leaned closer to him. “If you impress me with your rhythm.” She gave him a pointed look as she spoke, and he felt his face get hot.

“You are adorable,” she added.

He didn’t know what to make of her— adorable? —but he had to say he was enjoying his time here a lot more than he’d anticipated.

All thanks to her.

S he liked flustering him. A lot.

But the fact remained that he was adorable; now that the thicket was gone, she could see how often and how easily he blushed.

He took her in his arms as the music began, and it was difficult not to just lean up and kiss him. But of course that would mean she could never set foot in a Society ballroom again, and she wouldn’t get her building.

So she contented herself with gazing up at him while she imagined all sorts of things.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered.

The dance was a waltz, thank goodness, so they would be together the entire time.

“Like what?” she replied in as innocent a voice as she could manage. Which was not very innocent.

“Like you’re—you know,” he said, glancing away.

“Like I am thinking about what happened in the carriage? Thinking about what might happen in the future—if you let it?”

“Yes, that,” he replied in a curt tone.

She relented in her teasing. She didn’t want to provoke him into doing something rash. Besides, there would be plenty of opportunities for teasing when they were alone, which could result in much more interesting consequences.

“What do you think of the party?” she asked. “Is it similar to parties you’ve attended in Scotland?”

“You are under the impression I actually attend parties,” he said. “I try to avoid them as much as possible.”

“Why?”

He blinked, as though he hadn’t expected to be asked such a simple question.

“I suppose—well, I suppose it’s because I am not sure what to say. I’m sure you’ve noticed I can be a bit—”

“Reserved?” she supplied.

He snorted. “I was going to say awkward. You are much kinder.”

“Why do you have to say anything?” she asked. “Most people are happy to do all the talking. All you need to do is ask them a question or two about themselves and they will fill in the rest.”

“Is this part of your cat theory?”

She laughed, both amused and embarrassed. “It likely is. A cat would assume it belongs anywhere it wants to go. It wouldn’t think about being out of place or being awkward, even if it was about to attend a dog event.”

“A dog event?” he said with a grin.

She flapped her hand. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, but please continue.”

At least it seemed as though he was feeling more comfortable now. There was something to be said about creating outlandish theories involving domestic animals.

“A cat would just saunter in and take the place it wanted to, rather than wait for anybody to tell it where to go or how to behave. That is how you should be. Perhaps when you return to Scotland—”

“I can attend a dog event?” he supplied.

“A dog event filled with lots of admiring canines. I have to imagine you would be fairly popular, if you were to venture out.”

“Why?” he asked. Sounding as though he honestly had no idea.

“Because of all this,” she said, waving her hand to indicate his entire self. “You’re handsome, you’re titled, you’re wealthy. You’ve got sheep.”

He let out a bark—“Ha!”—of laughter, which made a few of the other people on the dance floor turn their heads to look at them. “Having sheep is more common than you seem to think, my lady.”

“They’re your sheep though,” she shot back. “And—pardon my frankness—but why haven’t you married before this? I would have thought there were plenty of Scottish ladies who would jump at the chance to be a countess.”

He snorted. “It’s difficult to find someone to jump, so to speak, when you rarely leave your house.

” He shrugged. “I also haven’t been so inclined to find anyone, to be honest. I know that the way I live isn’t what most people would choose, and I don’t want to have to force anyone to make that choice. ”

“So you’ll stay as you are, then?” That would be a shame—someone as kind and thoughtful as he was would make a remarkable husband. If one were inclined to have a husband, that is. Which she most definitely was not.

“No, that isn’t what I meant—I’ll marry eventually, but I want to be certain the woman is fine with a quiet life. And enjoys the same things I do—rewarding work, excellent food, the best whisky. It would be unkind to force someone into a situation that would make them unhappy.”

“You know that women can decline offers of marriage,” she said, more sharply than she meant to. “We don’t have much autonomy, but I can’t imagine you asking some easily influenced debutante to be your bride.”

“Indeed,” he said, his tone grave. “And you’re right, I would never court a girl. When I get married, I want a woman who knows what she wants.”

The thought struck her that she was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted. And she definitely liked all the things he mentioned.

But of course that was ludicrous. There was no chance that he would ask her to marry him, what with her already telling him she had no intention of embarking on that course.

“It seems you have a plan, then, my lord,” was all she said.

“O h goodness!” Miss Emily exclaimed when they were back in Drusilla’s carriage.