Page 5 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

M y lady?” Bertha stood at the doorway to Drusilla’s small receiving room.

Joey had gone out to check on the various families they assisted, and Drusilla was holed up here with an enormous pot of tea and her accounts.

She hated doing the accounts, but that was the only way to ensure she had the funds she needed.

She had inherited a rather large fortune from her parents, but since she also spent a large amount, she was constantly having to juggle what was in various banks and holdings to make the most of what she had.

It would have to last her the rest of her life, since she had no intention of marrying.

“Yes, Bertha, what is it?” Drusilla asked, gazing over the spectacles she wore when reading or doing close work.

“That big man’s here. He says he’s here to see you—the earl of something. I couldn’t catch it, he’s got such a strong accent.”

Drusilla felt a tiny thrill burst in her at the thought of seeing him again—seeing that huge muscular man again—before firmly quashing the thought.

“Show him in. And bring more tea and something to eat.”

“Yes, my lady,” Bertha said.

Drusilla settled herself in her chair, tidying her papers and smoothing her hair. She quickly removed her spectacles, placing them on the table as well, before hearing the sounds of Bertha escorting the Scottish lord inside.

She rose as he entered. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

He looked much more tidied up today, though his whole facial situation remained a huge bramble of hair.

His clothing was neat and clean, his cravat was simply tied but snowy white, and his boots shone.

His hair had been recently brushed, and most surprising, he carried an enormous bouquet of flowers.

He stuck them out brusquely toward her. “Good afternoon. These are for you.”

Drusilla took them, then nodded at Bertha, who waited just inside the doorway.

“They are lovely, thank you, my lord. Can you put these in water?” she said, holding them out to the housekeeper.

Bertha moved forward to take them, then gave Drusilla a questioning look.

“Just the tea things now, and thank you. You can close the door.”

Bertha did just that, which left them alone in Drusilla’s small room.

The room was originally an anteroom where the servants would tend to the household’s clothing mishaps and other emergencies that needed a small, dedicated space.

But Drusilla’s late father had taken it over as his solitude room during his flirtation with an ascetic lifestyle, then quickly abandoned it when he realized being ascetic was not at all fun.

Which was rather the point, Drusilla had wanted to say, but neither of her ramshackle parents ever listened to her anyway, so it hadn’t mattered.

“Please sit,” she said, gesturing to one of the chairs in the room. She’d noticed his trepidation yesterday, so she’d surveyed the various seats the room offered and settled on the one that seemed like the sturdiest.

He nodded, then slowly lowered himself into the chair, visibly relaxing as his bottom hit the seat.

“Thank you for seeing me,” he said, sounding hesitant.

“How might I help?”

Drusilla allowed her gaze to roam over him while she waited for his response. He was an extraordinary specimen, she had to admit, and she had seen more than her fair share of specimens in her twenty-eight years.

He was as broad as she had remembered, and now she was able to look closer.

His legs were long, encased in black wool, and his hands were placed on his knees.

They were strong-looking, with blunt fingers and knuckles that showed signs of manual labor.

This was not an elegant lord who asked others to do things for them; this was a man who did things for himself.

Which, if she were a proper young lady, would not send her mind spiraling into other places where he could do things for himself, and quite well, but she hadn’t been a proper young lady since—well, since ever, so she allowed herself the momentary diversion.

A black kitten leapt onto his lap, and he began absentmindedly petting it. It was such a contrast—large man and tiny animal—that it made her want to laugh.

“I am here to ask you again if you can assist with my niece’s debut,” he said, then held his hand out when she would speak. “Hold on, I have something to say.” He drew his brows together, making him look even fiercer.

“You said yesterday you assist young ladies in general, is that correct?”

She nodded. “I do. I just don’t—”

Again he held up his hand, and she obeyed him. Which surprised her, to be honest. But he had such a commanding way about him, and she did like looking at his hands.

“I would imagine you would want a young lady to be able to choose her own future, if I am reading you correctly.”

She nodded again.

He took a deep breath, then steepled his fingers. “And marriage is a choice, is it not?”

“For some people,” she agreed.

His eyebrows rose. “So you would agree that if it is my niece’s choice to be married, that is her own decision, and you would support someone who’d made that choice?”

Drusilla bit her lip. She knew where this was going, and she didn’t like it. Though she had to respect his logic. “Yes,” she admitted begrudgingly.

“Therefore, if you were able to accommodate your schedule, and there was no other impediment to your assistance, you would help us?”

“Yes, but—”

“What do you want?” he interrupted. “To help. Do you want money? Wool?” he said with a snort. “The latest innovations in agriculture explained in precise detail?” He gave her an intent look. “I also have property in the city—perhaps that might be of interest.”

She’d been intrigued by his mention of money, of course, but she practically lit up at his last comment. “Property? Where?”

His lips drew back in what she thought might be a smile, though it was rather hard to tell.

“My late sister and her husband—Emily’s parents—dabbled in real estate.

It was David’s fervent belief that London would only grow as a center for commerce, and so he went around spending his family’s money on various buildings.

They left me the managing of the holdings, and I can dispose of them as I see fit. ”

“Oh my goodness,” Drusilla breathed.

“That’s got your interest, aye?” he said, his eyes lighting up. “If you wish, I can take you on a tour of what’s on offer. After you agree, of course.”

She met his gaze, feeling her heart beat a little faster at the thought. A building where she could continue her endeavors, perhaps stretch her money to help more people. Perhaps a business that could provide additional funds to help its workers, in addition to providing a reasonable wage.

“What do you say?” he asked, then placed the kitten onto the carpet and leaned back in his chair.

She hadn’t always been so altruistic, but when her heart had been broken by Mr. Wallins, she’d taken some time to examine her life, and others who were like her.

And a lot who were unlike her. And she’d come to realize that there were other brokenhearted and struggling women who didn’t have the resources she did, and it would take her mind off things to help them.

There was only one response she could give now.

“I say I will help you and your niece, my lord,” she replied slowly. “But if I do this, you will have to follow precisely what I say. You will also have to spend quite a lot of money on her gowns, if she doesn’t have them already. And you will have to throw a party.”

He paled. “A party? We are staying at a friend of the family’s town house. It wouldn’t be appropriate to—”

She waved her hand in dismissal before he finished his sentence.

“We can have it here. I will take care of all of it, I assure you. But your niece needs to make a proper splash in Society, and I will ensure that happens.” She spoke in a confident tone that nearly matched how she felt; that is, she knew she could pull it off, but she wasn’t entirely certain she could wrangle the uncle and his niece well enough.

But if they didn’t follow her commands, they would have only themselves to blame if something went sideways.

“Do we have a deal?” she asked, sticking her hand out to him.

He took it and immediately enveloped her hand with his much larger one. “We do, my lady.”

Just then they heard a tap at the door, followed by Bertha and Priscilla carrying the tea things.

Bertha set everything down, then directed her daughter where to put the items she’d carried in.

By the time the two had left the room again, there was a magnificent feast on the table, ranging from delicate sandwiches, flaky scones, tea biscuits, and an assortment of cheeses.

“Did you bribe someone in my kitchen to get all this?” Drusilla asked, only partially joking.

“I imagine they saw my size and knew a few muffins wouldn’t do,” he said, now sounding abashed.

So he was conscious of his size, Drusilla thought. She’d need to make him comfortable in his own skin as well as in London, or Society would brand him as an unsophisticated country bumpkin who doubled down on his ignominy by being Scottish.

But now was not the time. Instead, she picked up the teapot and poured some of the steaming liquid into one cup, then the other. “How do you take your tea, my lord?” she asked.

“Milk and sugar,” he said. “But I can—”

Now it was her turn to hold her hand up. “No. I am the hostess, and the hostess always serves. That is a very important rule, my lord.”

“I see,” he replied with a twist of his lips. “So the instruction begins now.”

“Indeed it does,” she replied, handing him his cup.

I ’ve done it , Murdoch crowed inside his head. I’ve actually done it!