Page 4 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

T he hansom ride back to their temporary lodgings was spent entirely in silence.

Emily sat on one side of the cab, while Murdoch was on the other.

He tried to ensure his legs didn’t touch hers, but the cab hit a few bumps, and his feet got tangled up with hers.

She gave the offending foot a pointed glare, then sniffed and retreated into the corner.

Her face was flushed, and she looked as though she was going to cry.

Please don’t cry , Murdoch begged silently.

He didn’t know what he’d do or how he’d comfort her if she cried.

He wouldn’t blame her if she did; it had to be difficult to have lost your parents and then have to face your coming out being accompanied by a—what had she called him?

—a Scottish oaf, when all you wanted to do was wear pretty clothes, meet a few nice gentlemen, and marry one of them.

“It’s not—” he began, but he stopped when she turned her fierce blue glare on him.

“Never mind,” he muttered, wishing he could find the words.

He imagined she would be able to find the words—the confident, poised woman they’d just met.

Lady Drusilla. If she were to take on Emily’s debut, he knew it would be done well.

Or at least much better than his doing it.

It was a shame she’d declined, especially since she seemed to share his belief that Emily shouldn’t toss herself away to the first gentleman that asked her.

“If only—” he said aloud.

Emily’s expression changed to one of exasperation. “If you’re just going to begin sentences and then stop, we won’t be able to have a conversation.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to have a conversation,” he said gruffly. “Though I’m happy to.” But God help him if she wanted to talk about gowns, parties, dancing, or any of her other interests.

“Why do you think she wouldn’t help me?” Emily said, sounding both bewildered and petulant. “She did say she helped young ladies.”

“She did,” Murdoch replied. “But it sounded as though she only helped young ladies who did not wish to get married.”

Emily frowned. “That is so unfair!”

Murdoch nodded, surprised to find himself in agreement with his niece. “It is, but we don’t know the lady, and it would be an imposition.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “Am I an imposition?”

Now she sounded like the seventeen-year-old girl she was.

“No, of course not,” he assured her, feeling like both a lout and a yahoo at the moment. As well as absolutely out of his depth. “And now that we’ve thought about it, why don’t we see if there is another lady who will suit? We could use the help.”

Emily gave him a critical look. “ You certainly could.”

Murdoch winced, both at her frankness and the truth of her reply.

Thankfully, figuring out a solution to any problem was something he was comfortable with.

Though his solutions usually involved agriculture, sheep, or household accounts.

But surely he could find an appropriate lady to assist with Emily’s debut as he would a new estate manager.

He’d just place an ad in the newspaper with all his requirements.

He’d interview them all and then make the appropriate choice.

Once they’d arrived back at their temporary lodgings—a modest town house rented out by an acquaintance of one of Murdoch’s more London-minded friends—he went immediately to the room he’d been using as an office, pulling out a piece of paper and pencil and writing what he needed on it.

Wanted: A Lady

Well. That seemed nefarious. He certainly hoped nobody got the wrong idea. Perhaps he should put more into that top line.

Wanted: A Lady to Guide a Young Lady’s Debut

That was clear enough.

Requirements:

Knowledge of etiquette, attire, dance; must accompany lady to all parties.

Renumeration to be negotiated.

He nodded, satisfied. That would surely be enough to entice a well-born if financially unstable woman to apply, wouldn’t it?

He was glad now that they had met Lady Drusilla. Even if she was not willing to assist, the thought of her had spurred the idea of hiring someone.

The thought of her had also spurred other ideas.

He had to admit to finding her forcefulness and decisive manner very attractive.

It didn’t hurt, either, that those characteristics were housed in an attractive package.

That black hair that seemed as rebellious as its owner, escaping from its confines to frame her face.

Her eyes, which glinted with passion as she spoke.

And her lips, which were plump and practically begging to be bitten.

Murdoch had had an arrangement with a genteel widow who lived in the village near his estate, but they had parted amicably when she decided to move to Edinburgh.

It had been—was it six months since then?

And he hadn’t been with anyone since. His hand sufficed, though he regretted now he hadn’t yet married.

A wife would be able to handle all of this debut nonsense without him.

Though that was certainly not the reason to get married, and he hadn’t yet found a woman who made him think of any good reasons he should get married.

Reasons like home, and company, and feeling safe.

And those other reasons, the ones he was also thinking about now, the ones that made him feel an almost desperate wanting.

But that Lady Drusilla. She inspired all kinds of erotic thoughts, thoughts he felt almost embarrassed to have in his head at all. Thoughts like her demanding his attentions where she wanted them. Thoughts like what her eyes would look like when they were glazed by actual passion.

Thoughts that were just thoughts, since he imagined she wasn’t attending the sorts of parties and events he’d be squiring Emily to. Even if he did find a lady to help guide the process, he would need to be in attendance to ensure any fortune hunters didn’t charm their way past both women.

He slid the paper off the desk, resolving to head to the newspaper offices today to get the advertisement in as soon as possible.

Hopefully this would all go smoothly and he would be able to return to where he was content within half a year, possibly less if a potential husband passed his scrutiny.

He missed his sheep, his solitude, and his comfort.

And perhaps, he promised himself, he’d find a suitable wife. One who would enjoy living on a remote estate in Scotland, not concerned with Society parties or showing off her gowns. One who wouldn’t mind being married to a taciturn Scottish lout like him.

One who would need to be the exact opposite of Lady Drusilla, he reminded himself.

“L ook at this,” Joey said, waving the morning paper in the air.

“What is it?” Drusilla said, her voice still groggy from sleep.

The two of them, plus a few of the coachmen, had gone to where the Greens lived and moved them into Drusilla’s town house.

The family consisted of Mrs. Green and her four children, ranging in age from four to seventeen years old.

The eldest, a boy, had been working as a pure finder, which meant he’d been scooping up dog feces across London to give to leatherworkers, who used it to soften their product.

Drusilla already knew she could find a better—and much less odorous—position for him, so she had no qualms about removing the Greens from their shabby housing on the docks.

“I think that behemoth placed an advertisement to help the English rose,” Joey said, putting the paper in front of Drusilla.

She nudged Drusilla’s teacup, and Drusilla snatched it up to keep it from harm.

One of the kittens—she thought it was Other Tina, but she wasn’t certain—jumped up and started to walk on the paper.

Drusilla peered at the newsprint, pushing Other Tina aside as she took a sip of tea.

Wanted: A Lady to Guide a Young Lady’s Debut

Requirements:

Knowledge of etiquette, attire, dance; must accompany lady to all parties.

Renumeration to be negotiated. Please apply between the hours of 10–2 to M___ Cragmore at 7 Upper Checkam St., Mayfair.

Drusilla leaned back in her chair, placing the teacup down.

“That was a very clever idea of his. And Mayfair! That earl must have a lot of coin,” she said, surprised.

“He doesn’t waste funds on his appearance, that is for certain.

That English rose—Miss Emily, was it?—will at least have enough money to purchase all the gowns she needs for her debut.

” She paused. “Though she did mention she had a fortune, didn’t she? ”

“Do we know anybody for whom this would be suitable?” Joey asked, taking a seat.

Drusilla considered it. “I know of several ladies who are in need of governess positions and the like. But they’re far too young to be appropriate for this line of work.

This person would need to be at least ten years older than Miss Emily.

” She looked at Joey. “We’ll have to forget about our new friends and concentrate on finding places for our new arrivals.

” She let her eyes wander back to the paper.

“There are a few buildings for sale as well. Perhaps we could just go look at them—”

“We don’t have the money, not unless you want to reduce what we’re paying in ongoing projects.” Joey was blunt, but she spoke the truth.

“We can’t do that,” she said, giving a regretful look at the listings. “This one would be perfect, just look. The address isn’t too far away, and it’s got a business on the ground floor and lodgings above.”

“Mm-hmm,” Joey said. “But—”

“I know,” Drusilla replied, folding the paper closed, “we can’t afford it.”

“You could rob the Bank of England.” At Drusilla’s dubious expression, Joey spread her hands and tried to sound guileless. “It’s better than finding some rich man to marry, isn’t it?”

Drusilla snorted. “Not by much. But I’ll consider it—if we get more desperate, perhaps we’ll give it a go.”

Joey reached across the table to clap her on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Now, what are we going to do today?”

“I know all the lords and ladies,” the woman said, bobbing her head up and down as she spoke.

Murdoch sat at the desk in his temporary office and resisted the urge to pinch his nose.

He’d had a steady stream of people applying for the position, which should have been a good thing, but thus far, nobody had been the least bit suitable.

One woman had arrived with her pets in tow, assuring him that everybody knew Candy and Flossy, and that they would provide additional help, should it be required.

That the pets were two of the smallest dogs Murdoch had ever seen did not convince him of what she was saying.

Another woman had to be even younger than Emily, clearly a renegade from one of the aristocratic town houses nearby.

He called one of the servants to escort her safely home.

A third was so shy she could barely lift her head to speak to him, and when he asked what her qualifications were, she started to cry.

He felt sorry for her, but he couldn’t entrust Emily’s debut to her.

And this one in front of him now had an accent so broad that even Murdoch recognized it as belonging to someone who had most definitely not grown up in the glittering world of Society. Sure enough, when she sneezed, she wiped her nose on her sleeve before returning to answering his questions.

“Thank you, Miss Mueller, that will be all.”

“I can start right away,” she said, her expression growing pugnacious. “You’ll never have to worry about your charge while I’m in charge—get it?” she said, laughing at her own joke.

“Thank you,” he repeated, and she scowled. But at least she rose and gave some semblance of leaving, so he didn’t bother about her mercurial change of expressions.

Once she was safely out, he sat back at the desk with a groan, burying his face in his hands.

“Uncle?”

He raised his head. “I’m busy, Emily. Can we speak later?” He kept his voice as mild and calm as possible. They’d reached some sort of accord last night after he’d told her of his plan, and he didn’t want to disturb that fragile peace.

“It can’t wait,” she said as she burst through the door.

Once again, Murdoch was startled by just how pretty she was.

Even without her fortune, she’d be someone whom unscrupulous types would want to have in their possession, and with her fortune added, she’d be nearly irresistible.

It would only take a charming rapscallion with looks to utter a few complimentary words in her ear and she would be his for the taking.

He couldn’t allow that.

“I’ve thought about it,” she was saying as she plopped herself down in the chair opposite him. “And I don’t want to hire anybody to guide my debut.”

Good, because I can’t find anybody.

“So you’ll trust me to guide you?” he said, surprised.

Her blue eyes widened. “Heavens, no!” she exclaimed.

“I want Lady Drusilla.” She blinked a few times.

“It’s obvious she knows precisely what to do in Society, and if she was willing to rush out into the street to help me, she is just who I need to support me in my debut. ” Her mouth twisted into a mulish pout.

Murdoch blinked at her. “But...the lady has already said no. And we don’t know her—we can’t just insist she take it on.”

“You’re an influential man, aren’t you?” she pressed.

“In Scotland, yes,” he said. “But not here.”

“Here, Scotland, wherever. It doesn’t matter. If you’re an influential man, you should have an idea of how to persuade someone to do something they don’t want to.”

I think you’ve mistaken me for someone charming , he thought. I am the opposite. Charmless, perhaps.

“Uh...”

“If you don’t at least ask her again, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” she threatened.

He was embarrassed to admit—even to himself—that he was terrified of what she might do. Run away and join the circus? Take out her own advertisement declaring what a meanie her uncle was? Marry the first man who asked her, regardless of who he was?

“Fine,” he said hurriedly, before she could think of what she might actually do. “I’ll pay a call and ask her again.”

Her face was suddenly blessed by a brilliant smile, and he almost returned the smile himself, it was that infectious.

But then he remembered he did not usually smile, unless it was when his experiments with soil had borne fruit, so to speak, or a sheep’s wool was extra fluffy. Things that made him happy.

Though if his niece was happy by the end of this adventure, that would make him smile the most. He just hoped he could make that happen.