Page 23 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

T hat’s today?” Drusilla said in some dismay.

Joey nodded. They were in the breakfast room. After resisting for several days, Drusilla had spent some time seeing to herself, as the Ram had suggested, the other night. She’d gone to sleep sated but not satisfied, and her dreams had been...vivid, to say the least.

“The last thing I want to do today is go to a picnic,” she said in a disgruntled tone.

“But how else would you be able to see the earl al fresco?” Joey said, as innocently as she could manage. Which was not much.

“He will not be al fresco, Joey.” Much as that would be appealing—a nude earl stretched out on some picnic blanket, perhaps a cluster of grapes in his mouth. “A picnic itself is al fresco. Dining in the open and all.”

“All those bugs and the heat and watching the servants sweat. No thank you,” Joey said.

“That’s exactly what I mean! But I owe it to Miss Emily to give her as many chances as I can to be in Society before her own big event. I do believe our party will be a complete success,” Drusilla said, already feeling smug.

“That’s bad luck, Dru,” Joey warned. “There’s plenty that could go wrong.”

“Like having to go on a picnic?” she said in a rueful voice.

“We’re going on a picnic!”

Miss Emily burst through the doors, already dressed for the day in a charming sprigged muslin. She held a wide hat in her hand and her smile was so blinding it made Drusilla blink a few times.

“That is altogether too much cheer this early in the morning, Miss Emily,” Joey said as she went to the sideboard and prepared a cup of tea. “Three sugars, is it?” she asked, to which Miss Emily nodded.

“Are Society picnics different than regular picnics? My grandmother and I used to go on picnics when I was much younger.”

“I think they remain mostly the same,” Drusilla replied, “except the food is likely fancier. And there might be musicians playing somewhere in the grass.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Joey murmured. Drusilla took advantage of Miss Emily being engrossed in her tea to stick her tongue out at her friend, who merely laughed.

“I slept wonderfully, Lady Dru. Did you?”

Drusilla felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. “Indeed I did,” she said. Thanks to her images of Miss Emily’s uncle and her own hand. There was nothing like a good orgasm to give one a restful sleep. “Yes, dear, thank you,” she said.

“I shouldn’t eat too much before the picnic, should I? Or should I eat a lot, because I don’t want to seem gluttonous?” Miss Emily regarded her empty plate with a confused expression.

“Eat something now. Try not to fuss too much about it—that is a dangerous path. You’ll always be comparing what you eat against what someone else eats, and so on. Just eat what you wish to until you feel satisfied.”

Rather like Drusilla’s own attitude toward her love life, if she thought about it.

Though at the moment, she couldn’t imagine a world where she didn’t hunger for the earl. It had to ease eventually, did it not? Otherwise she would be in very deep trouble.

The man himself arrived in the breakfast room looking remarkably cheery. Ah, he must not recall what they were doing today either.

“We’re going on a picnic today, Uncle, isn’t it grand?”

His expression changed so drastically and so rapidly, Drusilla had to smother a laugh.

“We are?” he replied, shooting a quick glance toward Drusilla, who nodded.

“Indeed, my lord. Dining out in the open air while exchanging pleasantries about the weather.”

“I might need something stronger than this,” he said, going to where the coffee urn rested on the sideboard.

Joey nodded in understanding. “I’ve got you, my lord, no need to fear.”

“Thank God,” he replied.

Drusilla looked between one and the other, startled to feel...was that jealousy? That her best friend was suddenly quite chummy with her about-to-be lover?

No, it couldn’t be jealousy. She was merely startled, that was all.

“Miss Emily,” Joey said, “if you’re done, do you want to help me locate the kittens? I believe Priscilla said she couldn’t find Other Tina, the black one.”

Joey caught Drusilla’s eye as she spoke, giving her a significant nod.

This was now the second time Joey had finagled it so she and the earl were alone—was Joey concerned that her love life was faltering?

That couldn’t be. She’d heard all the details just the week before.

Or was it that Joey wanted to get the two of them alone and more comfortable, thinking perhaps this might be something that wasn’t like Drusilla’s usual affair? Had Joey turned romantic?

That seemed hard to believe as well, but there had to be something that was making her friend act different.

She’d have to ask later.

“What does one do during a picnic?” the earl asked, taking a piece of toast from the rack. He frowned at it, then took two more pieces, picking up a jar of marmalade and beginning to slather it on the bread. “Besides sit on the grass and eat.”

Put that way, it sounded—well, it sounded exactly like what it was.

Drusilla sighed, picking up her now lukewarm tea. “We sit on the grass and eat, look at one another, try not to get sunburned—we should bring parasols—perhaps go for a stroll and look at a body of water or something like that.”

“Sounds horrifying.” The earl’s tone was vehement.

“It is. But it is a good opportunity for your niece to meet more people without it having to always be in a ballroom. Society gives young ladies like your niece so few opportunities to actually meet and know people. How can a young woman possibly know enough about a person to agree to spend the rest of her life with them?”

Now she was speaking with a vehemence she almost didn’t recognize.

“Is that how you felt? When you came out?” he asked. His tone was gentle, which made her feel...vulnerable. As though he was actually interested and cared about what she was going to say.

“I was—” I was already convinced I was going to marry Mr. Wallins, and the whole debut experience was just a formality. “I thought I knew everything that might happen already. I was quite arrogant at that age.”

“Only at that age?” he said, his voice a low rumble.

She arched her brow at him. “Are you saying I am arrogant now?”

He didn’t reply but did give her a pointed look.

“Fair enough. I am,” she conceded. “But if I wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here, with you about to successfully launch your niece into Society, apparently the thing she wants most in this world.”

“Fair enough,” he said, repeating her words.

M urdoch couldn’t stop thinking about her expression when he’d asked her about her debut—how it had shifted into something guarded and hurt before she collected herself.

It was only for a few fleeting seconds, but he knew there was something there.

He wished he wasn’t so fascinated by her.

He already knew it would be difficult when it was, inevitably, time for him to return to Scotland while she stayed here and did whatever it was she was planning on doing with the building he would give her.

Miss Joey had delivered a flask a few moments ago, and he took a sip, feeling the burn of the whisky as he closed his door and went downstairs.

They were to leave for the dreaded picnic in a few minutes; at least he’d been able to see to his correspondence before being forced to go eat outside, of all nonsensical practices.

“You’re here!” Emily exclaimed. She was already downstairs, her hat on her head. “Lady Dru said she’d be here in a few moments. She was just finishing getting dressed.”

“I’m coming,” Lady Drusilla called, and both Murdoch and Emily turned to look at her.

She was descending the stairs like a queen, wearing a gown in a deep blue that made intriguing rustling sounds as she moved.

A necklace with one single sapphire hung at her throat, while matching earrings dangled from her ears.

Her coiffure had already come undone, one strand lying tantalizingly on her shoulder.

He was not just fascinated—he was obsessed. He could admit it now. He was entirely and absolutely obsessed with her. He knew it would end, and end perhaps with his heart completely broken, and yet he wouldn’t stop.

“My lord?” she said, giving him an inquiring glance.

He must’ve been lost in his thoughts for a moment.

His thoughts of her . “Is this picnic that unpleasant a proposition?” Her voice was amused.

“We could tell Mrs. Smithwick you are indisposed. Though I imagine she might want to rush to your side and bathe your forehead with lemon water.”

“No, I cannot have that,” Murdoch replied.

“What, the saying you are indisposed or the lemon water bit?” she asked, her tone arch.

He glared at her, but she only laughed.

“Come, we don’t want to be late,” she said. “The carriage is outside.”

M urdoch had never expected so many people with presumably some intelligence to actually enjoy eating out of doors—but here they were.

This was actually almost worse than being at a party, because there was nowhere to hide.

It wasn’t as though he could go stand in the corner or pretend to be engrossed in the refreshments.

For one thing, there was no corner. And the refreshments were in the middle of the picnic area, which made being engrossed near impossible.

“I am so glad you are here, my lord,” Mrs. Smithwick said, making him jump. He hadn’t realized she was that close to him. His fault for trying to find corners in the outdoors.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, feeling his chest grow tight. There were probably more people at this picnic than he’d likely see, let alone speak to, in six months back at home.

“Your niece is so lovely,” Mrs. Smithwick continued, gesturing toward where Emily stood a few yards away. There were two young gentlemen with her, and Murdoch unconsciously narrowed his eyes at them. Were they fortune-hunting bampots? Or were they merely speaking with an attractive young lady?

And was there a difference?