Page 24 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

“You will be pleased to have her settled, I am certain,” Mrs. Smithwick continued. “It must be difficult for an unmarried man such as yourself to have to watch over a girl like your niece.”

“The earl has assistance,” came a voice from behind him. He turned around to see Lady Drusilla, a sharp smile on her lips. “I am more than glad to be helping him with launching his niece.”

“Oh, I see,” Mrs. Smithwick said, her tone arch.

Murdoch wondered what it was she saw, because he certainly didn’t see anything. Or perhaps they were speaking in some coded London Society language?

“The earl very much wishes to be back home in Scotland,” Lady Drusilla continued. As though he was not also standing right here.

But then again, she was more adept at speech in general, let alone a coded language, so he might as well stay silent.

And she was telling the truth—wasn’t she? Didn’t he long to be back where he was completely comfortable, tromping about in whatever clothes were the most comfortable, going days without having to say more than a “Good morning” or “How do you do?”

Back where he was completely alone.

He wished he did yearn for that more—it would make this inevitable parting a lot easier.

But he’d already gotten somewhat accustomed to London’s frantic pace: the early morning calls of the merchants hauling their wares to the markets.

The clomp and clatter of all Lady Drusilla’s other guests bustling out in the morning, going to where she’d presumably sent them.

Drinking whisky with Miss Joey.

Watching Tina and Other Tina’s antics.

And kissing her.

“How far away from Edinburgh are you, my lord?” Mrs. Smithwick was asking.

“Pardon?” he said, emerging from his thoughts. “We’re quite far away. I’ve been there myself only a few times.”

Her face fell, and he wondered if she was disappointed he didn’t have more access to the city. But that would be ridiculous. She barely knew him, and she definitely didn’t know what he liked or did not like.

He would have said he did not like cities before, but he’d have to adjust that now.

Perhaps he, like Mrs. Smithwick, barely knew himself.

That was an interesting idea. He’d always felt it was important to constantly be growing and accommodating new information, because otherwise things got stagnant.

Usually he applied that life lesson to sheep husbandry and crop farming, but he supposed it could be just as appropriate to a person.

“My lord, would you like to meet—?”

But Lady Drusilla’s words were drowned out by a shriek from another guest.

“Go away, you horrid thieves! Go away!”

Everyone looked over at the shrieker; it was a middle-aged lady seated rather stiffly on a blanket, wearing an enormous bonnet and holding a tiny dog in her lap.

She was pointing to the edge of the green.

Murdoch followed her finger and saw three children, the oldest of whom couldn’t have been more than eleven.

They wore dirty, torn clothes, and their faces were dirty as well.

Their faces were gaunt, and the expression on their faces—want, loneliness, and despair—made his heart hurt.

“They’re trying to take what I was tossing to the ducks!” the woman continued in an accusatory tone. “You’re nothing more than common thieves,” she scolded.

Murdoch’s feet felt rooted to the ground, as though he was frozen in place.

But Lady Drusilla’s weren’t. She strode past Murdoch, her back straight, her whole body vibrating with indignation.

As she passed the bonneted lady, she leaned down and snagged a basket without missing a step.

Both the lady and her tiny dog yelped, and Murdoch finally felt able to move, following Lady Drusilla as she made her rampaging way toward the children.

He recognized this Lady Drusilla; it was the same one who had stormed out of her house a few weeks ago when she’d thought he was mistreating Emily. A fierce warrior on the path to justice, not waiting for anything but herself.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the basket at the children. They just stared at it, and then at Lady Drusilla, until finally the oldest one spoke.

“I reckon you’ll let us have this and then you’ll call the coppers on us, miss.”

He saw her draw a deep breath, and when she spoke, her words were shaky. As though she was so upset she wished to cry but wouldn’t allow herself to.

By now he’d reached her side, and he took her hand in his without hesitation. She gave him a surprised glance, then went back to looking at the children.

“Where are your parents?”

The eldest spoke again. “Our mom is gone, and our pa is at the pub.” The expression on the eldest’s face—Murdoch thought it was a girl, though she was so thin it was difficult to tell—was disdainful.

“I see.” Lady Drusilla released his hand and held her other hand out to the young girl. “I can help you. I have my carriage here. You can—”

“Are you saying, my lady, that you are going to allow those tramps into your carriage?”

Once again it was the bonneted lady, now standing, her dog still cradled in her arms. Her hat shook with her ire. “I’ve just said they are thieves, and that means you wish to invite them home with you? So you can show them where the silver is?”

Lady Drusilla turned to the other woman. Her expression was fearsome, and Murdoch was grateful she’d yet to look at him that way.

“Lady Tompson, you should not be throwing such accusations around. It’s obvious these children need help, not castigation.” Her voice was just as fierce as her expression; her eyes blazed with emotion.

“How do we know you’re not going to sell us to some fancy house?” the eldest demanded. Murdoch had to admire her strength in standing up for herself and her siblings; her voice trembled, but she didn’t flinch from staring at all of them in turn with a glare.

“I promise I will not,” Lady Drusilla replied, turning back.

“I won’t have anything to do with this,” Lady Tompson said in a piercing tone. “And I am sure Mrs. Smithwick will be most displeased that her picnic has been interrupted by these hooligans.”

“My lord, could you—?” Lady Drusilla began, and he nodded, anticipating her words.

“I’ll collect Emily and bid our hostess goodbye. I’ll come back here to help.”

“You don’t need to leave,” she protested. “I don’t want to ruin your fun.”

He raised his eyebrow at her, and she allowed herself to chuckle, waving her hand as she spoke. “Fine. I will have to make it up to Mrs. Smithwick somehow, and I do hope—” Her brow wrinkled in thought. “I do hope this doesn’t—” she began. “I hope this won’t cause too much talk.”

“You’re doing what should be done,” Murdoch replied gruffly. He turned to find Emily, who was only a few feet away, since most of the guests had wandered closer to see the cause of the disturbance.

“Emily!” he called, and she went toward him. Mrs. Smithwick also stood a few feet away, so he took his niece’s arm and approached their hostess.

“Madam,” he began, not sure how to phrase it, “it seems we—well, it seems we must be on our way,” he said, gesturing toward where Lady Drusilla was rounding up the children.

She leaned past him to look, her mouth tightening into a thin line.

“Surely you don’t have to go. I understand Lady Drusilla is a person very much given to good deeds, but I see no reason for you to have to join her.

She is perfectly capable of handling things herself.

” She took a step closer and looked up at him, her mouth curling into a slight, knowing smile.

“Besides, Lady Drusilla has her own reputation, and I am certain you do not want your niece to be tarred with that.”

Murdoch felt his throat close and his chest tighten at the implicit threat. Or perhaps it was an explicit threat. He wanted to tell Mrs. Smithwick that Lady Drusilla was merely doing the right thing, and to disparage her for being kind would be mean and petty.

But then again, this was London Society, where apparently mean and petty was often present.

He hadn’t experienced it personally yet, but he knew it was there.

And what’s more, he knew he could not allow Emily to be tainted by any scandal.

Not when her debut party was happening in less than two weeks.

This was clearly what Lady Drusilla had been concerned about—and yet he wouldn’t have her ignore the need right in front of her face, no matter the consequences.

He just hoped he could stave off whatever gossip might ensue from the afternoon.

He nodded, then turned back and walked toward Lady Drusilla. She held the two younger children’s hands, while the eldest held the basket, her expression not as guarded as before.

“We’ll stay here,” he said shortly, feeling like a coward but knowing it was the right thing to do for Emily. “Can you send the carriage back for us in an hour?”

“Of course,” Lady Drusilla replied. “I understand.”

But did she? This wasn’t the time to explain, but he hoped she knew why he was staying, and that it had nothing to do with fun or placating Mrs. Smithwick, but about ensuring Emily’s reputation wasn’t damaged.

“I will see you at home, then,” she said, walking toward the park’s entrance.

He bit his lip, torn between wanting to rush after her and help, and wanting to—well, he didn’t want to stay here, but he wanted to do what was best for his niece. His family.

Even though his heart ached to be with her.