Page 25 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

D rusilla walked with the children toward her carriage, filled with righteous fury at Lady Tompson and anyone else there who might judge her.

This was why she needed that building; this was also why she needed to maintain her own reputation. At least until she’d gotten Miss Emily settled somehow. Or until the earl had returned to his home.

She hadn’t been attending to her usual work as well, what with having the earl and Miss Emily living with her. There was so much to do to launch a young lady into Society. Though that shouldn’t be an excuse for ignoring what’s right. She just needed to focus more and work harder.

Which meant she needed to stop thinking about a certain Scottish ram, one who was surprisingly adept at the things she liked. The things she very much liked.

“It won’t matter,” she mumbled.

“Pardon, my lady?”

It was the eldest of the urchins. Drusilla had learned her name was Elizabeth, and she was fourteen, though she looked a few years younger.

She spoke in a London accent, one that likely hadn’t met the inside of a schoolroom, and Drusilla was already anticipating the amount of work that would go into these three’s rescue. Their last name was Baxter.

Sometimes she wished she could just ignore things, or be mindlessly dismissive, like Lady Tompson was. It would be easier, for certain. She would be able to circulate among Society how and when she wished, she’d have more money to entertain herself, and she could live life exactly how she pleased.

“Nothing, just me talking to myself,” Drusilla replied, squeezing the youngest child’s hand by way of emphasis.

“Are you crazy, then?” the middle child asked. His name was Tom, and he was ten years old. He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, as though he wouldn’t be surprised to discover their savior was brain-addled.

She smiled down at him. “Not in the usual way, I promise.”

His eyes widened. “What’s the unusual way, then?”

“The carriage is there,” Drusilla said, jerking her chin toward where it waited.

She was grateful she’d asked Harry, who was the most experienced coachman, to drive her here—he was also the oldest, and had a warm, reassuring manner that would be less likely to startle her new charges.

“Coachman, look who I’ve found! We’re taking them back to the house. ”

He clambered off his perch, then nodded, folding his hands behind his back. Likely so as to look less intimidating. “I see you’ve got three prize pigeons,” he said in a solemn tone.

“We’re not pigeons!” the youngest, Mary, said.

“Oh no, I see that now. Do you want to get up in that carriage with Lady Dru?” he asked. “I’ll guide the horses, and we can take it slowly.”

“I want to go as fast as I can,” Tom said. His eyes were lit with excitement, visible even though his face was grimy.

“Do you want to sit up beside me?” Harry asked.

“Do I!” Tom replied, then dropped everyone’s hands and ran toward the coach.

Harry opened the carriage door, gesturing to Elizabeth. “Inside, my dear,” he said. “I bet Cook will have some fresh-baked somethings at home for you three.”

“What kind of fresh-baked somethings?” Mary asked, giving him a suspicious look.

“Oh, I can’t say. Perhaps she’s made pastries, or some bread, or maybe there’s even a fancy cake. We won’t know until we get there.”

Drusilla felt her heart melt at how gentle Harry was—when he’d first arrived to live at her house, he’d been a bitter ex-cavalryman, tricked out of his pay by a conniving sergeant, with only one working leg.

He’d nearly left a few times, but Drusilla had convinced him to stay, assuring him he need only speak to the horses and could stay quiet around everyone else.

“Where’s the Scot and the young lady?” Harry asked.

“They’re staying here,” Drusilla replied.

She’d told Murdoch he should, and yet she was still disappointed.

Of course Miss Emily was his first concern.

Though she didn’t think he would recognize the potential for gossip if he left with them—so he must have stayed for some other reason.

“You’ll return after you take us home and pick them up. ”

“Seems silly to have to make two trips,” he griped, a momentary return to his previous grumpy self.

Drusilla chose to ignore him, instead getting into the carriage, sitting opposite Elizabeth and Mary. She gave them a reassuring smile. Or at least she hoped it was reassuring.

“Tom said if it seems like you’ll be taking us to the workhouse, he’ll punch the coachman and get the coach to slow,” Mary said in a matter-of-fact tone.

So much for reassurance.

“Hush,” Elizabeth admonished her, giving a wary look toward Drusilla. “The lady said she was taking us to her house. Let’s just hope Pa doesn’t find out where we went.”

Drusilla’s chest tightened. There were so many children like these three, children who weren’t wanted, or were taken advantage of, or who were just forgotten. She couldn’t do something for all of them, but she could chip away at the problem child by child.

“There’s a family living with me already,” Drusilla said, hoping she was able to remember their details. “Four children, the oldest boy is fourteen, and then there are two girls and a boy who’s about six years old, I think.”

“What do they do?” Elizabeth spoke carefully, as though hesitant to ask too much but needing to ensure her family had a hope of safety.

“The oldest is a footman, or at least wants to be, and the others are getting lessons and helping the staff with some chores.”

“Is that what we’ll do?” Mary asked.

Drusilla leaned forward to pat Mary’s knee. “We’ll talk about what it is you want to do and go on from there.”

Joey would be annoyed at the new arrivals, but she would just have to deal with them.

Joey was the one handling the actual arrangements for Emily’s party—seeing to extra staff, ordering all the required materials, reviewing various menus and music and all the details that would make the party a success.

Of course, once she met the children, she’d put all her resentment aside and work to make sure they were as comfortable as possible.

Thank God she had Joey, Drusilla thought.

And she wouldn’t have had her unless she’d started her rescue work so young.

Just a few months after the Mr. Wallins debacle.

That was the only way she’d been able to keep her toes in two different worlds.

Because Joey dealt with the reality of the rescues, and Drusilla provided the impetus, the funds, the housing, and the support until—or if—they were able to leave on their own.

She wouldn’t have time for anything other than the party and these children now. It was good that she and the earl hadn’t continued on their course, because she didn’t know if she would have been able to resist him once they had gone to bed together.

At least she had a few memories to comfort her in the middle of the night, even if they weren’t the actual Scottish behemoth.

It was best this way. Before anyone’s heart got hurt. Including hers.

“L ady Drusilla is quite remarkable, is she not?” Mrs. Smithwick did not sound complimentary. Even someone as obtuse as Murdoch could hear that in her tone of voice. Plus, she’d already made a few comments to her other guests that were designed to incite talk about Lady Drusilla.

“She is.” He spoke in a way that made it very clear he did not want to continue this line of conversation. Sometimes it was useful being awkward and abrupt. Hopefully this would stem the gossip.

“Miss Emily has met quite a few eligible gentlemen this afternoon,” Mrs. Smithwick continued. “There is a second son of a marquess, a baron who’s just inherited his title, and no fewer than three gentlemen who are hoping to elevate their social status through marriage.”

“I just want her to be happy,” Murdoch replied.

“Of course you do,” Mrs. Smithwick said, laying her hand on his coat sleeve. “It is obvious you care for her. It is commendable, since I imagine your life has been disrupted. And you are staying with Lady Drusilla?”

“Indeed,” Murdoch replied, with a confidence he didn’t feel.

He knew just that fact was likely entirely scandalous, but Lady Drusilla was past the age of being a marriageable woman, what with her being the ancient age of twenty-eight.

It didn’t make sense to him, since she was clearly still a vibrant, attractive young woman, but he knew she was seen in her world as being entirely too old to be considered as a bride for anyone. It wouldn’t stop people from speculation, however.

He longed for the time when the only audience for his actions were his sheep.

But then he wouldn’t be with her.

“Uncle, do come meet some of Mrs. Smithwick’s guests.” Emily tugged on his sleeve, and he nodded. “Excuse me, Mrs. Smithwick. Emily has some people she wishes me to meet.”

“I will join you, if you do not mind,” she replied.

He did mind, but he couldn’t very well say anything.

The three of them walked to where a group of young men stood, most of whose expressions brightened when they saw Emily.

Whether that was because when they saw her they saw her or they just saw an enormous bank account, he’d have to discern.

He didn’t trust Emily to be aware enough to figure it out—and Lady Drusilla would be helpful, but she was so against marriage in general, he wasn’t certain she would be objective about any of it.

He knew there was a secret somewhere—he hoped a time would come when she would trust him enough, as a friend if not a lover, to share it with him.

“Uncle, this is Lord Robert Paxton,” Emily said, nodding to one of the men.

Lord Robert bowed, then put his hand out. “My lord, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Lord Robert looked to be about twenty, with dark brown eyes and brown hair. He was dressed in what Murdoch could tell was the height of fashion, his boots gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.

“And this is Lord Doncaster,” Emily continued. The lord, who seemed to be indistinguishable from the first one, also thrust his hand out. Like Lord Robert, Lord Doncaster wore excellent clothing, and he also looked fairly young. Too young, perhaps, to be considering marriage?

Murdoch felt like a fossil standing with them—he was at least twelve years older, and they both looked as though they’d never even reviewed any accounts, much less balanced them.

Would Emily be safe in the hands of gentlemen like these?

“Finally,” Emily said, her voice a shade warmer than before, “this is Mr. Venning.”

Mr. Venning, at least, looked slightly different from the other gentlemen; his hair was light brown, whereas his eyes looked to be blue.

“A pleasure, sir,” Murdoch said.

“You are from Scotland?” Lord Robert asked.

“Indeed,” Murdoch replied. Obviously I am from Scotland, you idiot, since I have a Scottish accent.

But that was what polite conversation was—asking questions to which one already knew the answer. Perhaps he would get along better in this world if he could follow that directive: Today is Thursday, is it not? Food keeps us fed, do you agree? Is it better to be outside when it is not raining?

Though that last one might be debatable, since if it was raining, there would be fewer people Murdoch would have to interact with.

But that was likely only him.

“Miss Emily was saying she grew up here, but that this is your first time. Are you enjoying it?”

Mr. Venning was certainly eager, Murdoch could give him that.

Emily stood beside the young man, her expression interested but not besotted. Thank goodness. He’d worried that she’d fall in love with the first reasonable man she met, which wasn’t necessarily the basis of a good marriage.

Oh, but the young man was waiting for an answer.

And it wasn’t as though he had to actually think that hard about his answer; what was expected would be sufficient.

“Yes, I am. Thank you.”

Mr. Venning beamed, as though he was personally responsible for Murdoch’s happiness.

“Emily,” Murdoch said after another bit of random conversation, most of which he didn’t pay attention to, “we should be on our way.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, clapping her hands together. “I want to see how those children are doing.”

“You have a good heart, Miss Emily,” Lord Doncaster said. “It is not many young ladies who would bestir themselves about some street brats.”

Murdoch and Emily both looked at him, their eyes wide. Emily was the first to speak.

“Every child deserves enough to eat and a safe place to live, my lord.” Her voice was shaky. “It was a pleasure to meet everyone.”

And she turned without waiting for a reply, with Murdoch striding after her.