Page 34 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

D rusilla exhaled as she returned to her room. It was eight in the morning or so. Nobody was awake yet, so nobody had seen her leave his room and return to her own.

It had been marvelous, the past four hours. It had nearly made her forget everything that had happened during the party.

She was certain to remember later today, of course, when the inevitable visitors arrived, with their words of commiseration and secret glee at seeing everything go so thoroughly wrong.

Honestly, if she had planned it herself, she could not have managed a more disastrous outcome.

But at least Miss Emily had enjoyed herself and made a favorable impression, despite the chaos around her.

Drusilla had taken pains to speak to some of the most influential members of Society, to stress that Miss Emily was not to blame for anything that had occurred, and that she was looking forward to partaking in the Season.

She hoped that would be enough.

And him. He had definitely been more than enough.

She’d expected he would be an attentive lover, given what he’d shown her already. But she hadn’t expected her own reaction: that she would lose herself entirely in his touch, the moment, the emotion.

It was dangerous. It felt scarily close to how she’d felt ten years ago, when she’d fallen in love with Mr. Wallins, who just wanted to relieve her of her virtue and some of her money.

He’d only gotten the former. In addition, Mr. Wallins had ruined her optimism about love and partnerships.

He’d made her recognize that it was not possible to have an equal relationship, at least not one that involved a man and a woman.

There was such a power imbalance, even when one person, such as herself, had a title, and the other did not.

That he was presumptive enough to approach her in the first place showed how little he’d valued her.

Her subsequent dealings with most men and gentlemen had shown her the same truth.

So she did what they did: She took what she wanted from them and ignored the rest.

If they took issue with that, as they often did, she would dismiss them, as she had Lord Cavendish and all his forebears.

Murdoch wasn’t like that, however. It made her edgy, knowing he wasn’t intent just on the sex. That he actually seemed to like and respect her. That he took an interest in her work, in her mind, in her life beyond the bedroom.

It scared her. No, it terrified her.

Because—because she might feel something more for him than just passion. More than carnal interest.

“I’m not!” she said aloud, then clapped both hands over her mouth.

But the truth was inside her head, even if she hadn’t admitted it.

She’d gone and fallen in love with him.

“Of all the stupid things to do,” she muttered, making her way to her bed. She flopped onto it, grabbing one of her pillows and putting it over her face. “You can’t love him, you can’t love anybody, that isn’t what’s supposed to happen.”

She rolled over on the bed, now facedown in the pillow. If she could just stay here for the rest of her life, she could ignore the truth. Nobody would ever have to know.

Though nobody could know, no matter what she did; she’d told him at the outset that she had no intention of ever committing to anyone.

It wouldn’t be fair to suddenly change her mind after a good fucking.

That would ruin everything. She wanted to be able to be there for Miss Emily, and to get her building, and to continue the work she was doing.

She did not want him to think she had tricked him—promising him a temporary interlude while secretly angling for a permanent commitment.

That would be the worst kind of betrayal.

And at the end of it all, he would still be back in Scotland, and she would be alone.

With just her memories.

And now she was sounding maudlin.

She flipped onto her back again, letting out a frustrated groan as she flung the pillow onto the floor.

“One,” she said in a stern voice, “you need to keep from telling him any of this.” Which would be difficult, given that she was accustomed to just saying whatever came into her brain.

Something her parents did, and likely a big part of why she was viewed somewhat dubiously by Society.

“Two, you have to focus on Miss Emily and her happiness.” Because that was the whole point of this.

The extra benefit of having met him, and now getting to bed him, was beside the point.

Ensuring Miss Emily had the future she deserved was all that mattered.

“And three, you must make certain to choose the building that will best serve your goals, and also make certain he does as he said he would.” Not that she imagined he would renege on the deal.

But he might if she suddenly got all love-swoony.

“Do not get love-swoony,” she warned herself.

Oh. “And four,” she added, “do not let Joey have a clue that you feel this way, or you will never hear the end of it.”

“U ncle!”

Murdoch groaned, pulling the covers over his head.

“Uncle!” Emily began to knock as well as shout. He glared at the door for a moment, then shrugged and picked up his dressing gown from where he’d thrown it the night before. He put it on before going to let her in.

“I can’t believe you slept in! It’s nearly one o’clock!”

He almost told her how late he’d been up, but that would elicit questions he did not want to answer. “Uh—well, I—”

“Never mind,” she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “People will be arriving in about an hour, Joey says, and I think you ought to be there. Lady Dru is already downstairs—she is seeing to Cook and preparing some refreshments.”

“Oh, well, in that case—”

“Let me pick out what you should wear. Wasn’t it a splendid party?” she asked as she went to his wardrobe. “I mean, there was the problem with the musicians, and then the punch incident, and that poor dog, not to mention the hedgehogs.”

“Yes, except for all of that, it was a splendid party.” Murdoch tried his best to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Thankfully, Emily was too focused on her own thoughts to pay much attention to him.

“Mr. Venning said he would pay a call today.”

“And you like him?”

She nodded. “But I want to get to know him more,” she said. Her brow was furrowed. “I don’t think I should rush in to anything.”

Murdoch felt a twinge of relief. So Drusilla was correct: She had been able to share some of her ideas with Emily. Thank goodness.

“But this is not getting you dressed,” she said, pulling a jacket out from his wardrobe. “This should do nicely.”

She laid it on his bed, then surprised him by leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. “I haven’t always said so, but I am glad we are here together, Uncle. And—and I am sorry I called you an oaf.”

“A Scottish oaf,” he replied with a grin.

“Of course. A Scottish oaf.”

“It has been wonderful to get to know you, my dear.”

It was. He realized he would miss her as well when he returned home.

She certainly would not want to come to Scotland, even if she wasn’t going to be wed immediately.

It would be far too dull for her, and he didn’t want her limited to the small number of people who lived there for her social life.

He wanted her to get to know as many people as possible, to be exposed to new ideas and go on new adventures.

And, he recognized with a pang in his heart, he wished he could do the same. With Drusilla.

But that wasn’t to be his fate.

At least he could watch as Emily got to have the future she deserved. While he got the only one he could possibly have.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” she said brightly, leaving with a jaunty wave.

He stared at the door. Alone again. As he would be in just a few short weeks, if not sooner.

He needed to stop these gloomy thoughts and get dressed. Emily was counting on him. And he wanted to spend as much time as possible with her before he couldn’t.

“Y ou’re looking remarkably well, my lord,” Miss Joey said as he made his way into the breakfast room.

She looked as she always did, which surprised him. He would have thought—but then again, no. He didn’t think anything would ruffle this woman.

“So what happened last evening?”

“Too drunk to remember, hm?” she said with a smirk.

He gave her a glare as he sat down. She laughed, passing him a cup of coffee.

“Well, Cook couldn’t taste because of her cold, so she didn’t realize the ham and some other of the foodstuffs had gone off.

The musicians arrived drunk for whatever reason.

It was one of the young lords who had the bright idea to put rum in the punch meant for the old people, and the flat champagne was thanks to us not knowing how to properly store the stuff.

I told Dru to hire staff that had an idea of how to work in a fancy household, but she wouldn’t listen. ”

“What wouldn’t I listen to?” Drusilla said, entering the room.

Murdoch’s chest tightened when he saw her. She was so striking, so alive, and only a few hours ago, the two of them had been naked together in his bed. She met his gaze, and he felt slightly smug when he saw her color, as though she was recalling last night as well.

“Good morning, my lord,” she said, taking the chair opposite. She unfolded her napkin and made a great show of placing it on her lap. “I hope you slept well?”

“Quite satisfyingly, thank you.”

She colored even more, then narrowed her gaze at him as if to warn him against any possible indiscretion. Miss Joey glanced between them, then raised her eyebrows and left the room, whistling as she did so.

“See what you’ve done?” Drusilla hissed. “Now she knows, and I’ll have to tell her.”

“As though you weren’t going to tell her anyway,” he shot back.

She looked disgruntled. “Well, yes, but I wanted to be the one to raise the topic. Now she is going to think I am holding out on her, and she’ll demand every scrap of information.”

“Every scrap?” Murdoch echoed. “You mean like...?” And he gestured with his hands to indicate the relative size of certain things.

“Yes, exactly,” she said, nodding. “And do you want that?”

He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “There are worse things to be known for.” He couldn’t help his smug tone.

“Oh, men,” she said, exasperated. “We will have guests later, people from last evening paying calls on Emily. You have to promise you will not engage in such—in such—”

“Size shenanigans? Appendage aggrandizement?” He leaned closer and spoke in a whisper. “Penis prowess?”

Now her face was tomato red, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I promise, I promise, I will be entirely discreet.”

“I might’ve liked you better when you were an awkward, hairy oaf,” she muttered.

“Are you certain?” he replied, giving her a skeptical glance. “Because I think you liked me very much at least three, maybe four times last night.”

“Stop talking,” she said, then rose suddenly. “I’m going to check that everything is in order for guests.”

She stalked out of the room, only to return a few moments later. “And don’t think I don’t know what you just did—trying to get my mind off the debacle of last night.” Her mouth spread into a warm smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied.