Page 37 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

W on’t he be angry, though?”

Miss Emily had asked the same question, phrased in a variety of ways, at least a dozen times since they’d left London.

She, Joey, and Drusilla had left only a few hours after Miss Emily had arrived at Drusilla’s town house.

Just long enough to pack some essentials, leave instructions for the continuation of the work at the new building, and for Cook to pack them a basket of foodstuffs, which lay at their feet in the carriage.

Harry drove the carriage, while Tom, the middle Baxter child, rode at the back.

“Did Cook think we were going to be gone for several months?” Joey grumbled, nudging the basket with her toe.

“She wanted to be certain that we were well taken care of,” Drusilla said primly. “Besides, Bertha knows what it is like to have a young girl in her charge. She didn’t want Miss Emily going hungry, so she asked Cook if there was enough in there. Between the two of them—”

“Between the two of them, there’s likely enough for all of the earl’s town, I’d think,” Joey said.

“When we get there.”

The trip had already taken two days, and Harry had been pushing the horses as much as he could without overtaxing them. Drusilla hoped the news hadn’t reached Murdoch yet, but she couldn’t count on that, so haste was of the utmost importance.

“What are we going to tell him when we do get there? I’m not going back,” Miss Emily said in a stubborn tone. “I don’t even know why we have to go there in the first place.”

“Because he’ll be rightfully worried about you, dear,” Drusilla said, trying to keep her voice calm.

Because you are young, and beautiful, and wealthy, and unmarried, and he would be right to suspect some gentleman might be clever and charming enough to persuade you to elope.

Mr. Wallins had come close to persuading her to run away with him.

It was only when she asked him about marriage that he let it slip he was already married, which was when all his lies unraveled.

“Letting him see that you are perfectly all right, and that you have certain opinions about what you wish to do with your life will be far better than writing everything out in a letter.”

“I’d still rather be in London than rattling around in here heading to Scotland of all places,” Miss Emily grumbled.

“Wouldn’t we all,” Joey said in a heartfelt tone.

Drusilla shot her a quelling glance, and Joey held up her hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Perhaps,” Drusilla began carefully, “now that we’ve been on the road for some time, you can tell me what it is you do want now. Why you left Mrs. Langley.”

Miss Emily’s expression darkened. “It wasn’t as bad when I was with you, Lady Dru.

But with Mrs. Langley, it felt as though I was an item for sale, being paraded around and on offer, with no thought for how I might feel.

It wasn’t her fault, mind you, but she was hired with the intent, she believed, of marrying me off.

” She lifted her chin. “I don’t think I want that after all. At least not in that way.”

“And what way is that?” Joey asked.

Miss Emily frowned. “The gentlemen, with very few exceptions, didn’t seem to care about me.

They didn’t ask what I liked, or how I was, beyond the most polite exchanges.

Instead they talked about their horses, or their gaming, or their opinions on things I didn’t know anything about.

Without even explaining what the thing was in the first place!

” She looked disbelieving at both of the other women.

“Can you believe how rude that is? I would have an opinion on the latest show or painting or book if they would at least tell me what it is before launching into their opinion of it!”

Drusilla couldn’t help but laugh. “I have met many people like that, Miss Emily. It’s not just restricted to gentlemen either.

So when we arrive in Scotland, we should present your uncle with a plan for how you wish your life to be.

We should convince him you have long-term goals for yourself, that you are not just acting out of whim or caprice. ”

They were going to have to convince him.

Him.

The person she’d been thinking about since he left. The person she could admit she wanted, wanted more than anything she’d ever wanted in her whole life.

She’d been trying not to think about that during the entire trip thus far, but it kept creeping in, like an annoying gnat determined to get her notice.

She felt a tap on her knee and looked up. Miss Emily was staring out the window, while Joey was gazing at Drusilla with a steady, concerned stare. “We’ll talk tonight,” she mouthed, and Drusilla nodded.

She wished just talking would solve things. If they could, she would talk all night. About how much she admired him, how endearing she found him, how much she wanted to rely on him.

The only other people in the world she could rely on were her sister, who was in America, and Joey.

And even they had their limits; both of them had their own lives, and their own concerns.

Of course, he did as well, but if she was with him with him, then their concerns would be shared.

It would be different than a sister or a best friend.

It would be the kind of partnership she had never even dreamed she could hope for. And she still didn’t think she could hope for it, but damn it, now she was dreaming of it, which made it hurt even more.

This trip was both agony and ecstasy, in that she was anticipating seeing him and she was going to see him—and then she was going to leave again and return home. Alone.

To spend the rest of her days in London living the same life she always had, knowing she would never have him again.

It hurt. A lot.

“O uch,” Murdoch said, rubbing at his backside.

Ferguson glanced over at him, his face amused.

The two of them were out of the saddle for the day, stopping at the first inn they’d spotted that looked reasonably clean.

Neither of them trusted the inn’s workers to take care of their horses properly, so they were removing the saddles themselves and rubbing the animals down.

“You’re not used to riding as long as you did before,” Ferguson said. “It’s that cushy earl’s life you lead now—in carriages, or carried on a litter borne by six beautiful maidens, or perhaps flown about on clouds by nymphs.”

“I’m not that bad,” Murdoch protested. “It’s just that my riding is limited to riding about the estate. I usually don’t spend that long in the saddle.”

Ferguson shrugged. “As I said. The cushy earl’s life.” He gestured to himself. “See, I am fine. I can ride for as long as required because I am a mere workingman who knows not to complain after putting in a good day’s labor.”

“Oh, shut up,” Murdoch said, shaking his head. “You know you lead just as cushy a life as I do. It’s just that you didn’t make the mistake of being too open and honest about how you’re feeling.”

Ferguson snorted as the two of them walked their horses into the inn’s stables.

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you. You the one being open and honest?

The one who’d rather cut off his tongue than say how he’s feeling?

The one who would rather suffer the rest of his life than tell the woman he loves how he feels? That one?”

“How are you still talking?” Murdoch asked as they turned to enter the inn. “I hope they have enough ale to drown you, since I do not want to hear anything more from you this evening.”

Ferguson merely snorted in reply.

“But seriously,” Ferguson said, when they were seated with two tankards of ale in front of them, “what are you going to say? You’d better practice, or all you’re going to do is grunt and growl in front of her.”

Murdoch glared at his friend. Not that he was wrong.

“I don’t—” But his words were interrupted as the door opened to admit more guests. Murdoch didn’t turn around to see who had arrived; he didn’t care to make anybody else’s acquaintance. The ones he had were trouble enough.

But then he heard a familiar voice.

“We’ll need two rooms.”

He spun around, his eyes wide.

And saw her. And her. And her .

“Is that—?” Ferguson said, likely seeing the expression on the ladies’ faces.

“Uh” was all Murdoch was able to say.

“Well, this has just gotten interesting,” Ferguson said.

Miss Joey was the first to react. She walked toward them, a wry smile on her lips. “Well, if it isn’t the earl. And some other Scot, I imagine.” She gave Ferguson a thorough assessment. “He looks to be about the same kind of ruffian you are.”

“Not the same, I assure you,” Ferguson said, getting up from his seat. Murdoch rose hastily as well, realizing he’d entirely forgotten to. “I’m much better at conversation and obviously twice as handsome, as you can see.”

Miss Joey rolled her eyes. “It’s not hard to be better at conversation than this mumbling brute, and as for the latter, I don’t much care for looks, so that don’t matter to me. I’m Joey. What’s your name?” She stuck her hand out.

“Ferguson. I’m the earl’s steward, and his best friend.”

“A pleasure, Ferguson. I’m Dru’s best friend. Dru’s the one back there, the one who just turned whiter than the moon at seeing your boy there.”

Ferguson angled his head to look at Drusilla, then nodded in satisfaction. “She’s who I imagined when I thought about who Murdy might end up falling for.”

“Ah, so you’re up on the situation too. Maybe we should get something stronger than that and see what happens?”

Murdoch snapped out of his stunned silence. “You will not view this event as your own personal circus,” he thundered. “The two of you should go somewhere else.”

Usually, people cowered in fear when he used his big voice. But neither of them did anything but regard him like an amusingly large dog who was barking for attention.