Page 7 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

D rusilla had spent the rest of the day after Lord Campbell left alternately jumping up and down in excitement that she would be able to achieve her dreams after all and trying to make Joey understand that was why she had agreed, not anything else at all.

Joey remained skeptical. “You have to admit there is a bonus to doing all of this, however.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Have you seen him?”

“Not everyone is as salacious as you,” Drusilla replied loftily.

“True. But you are,” Joey reminded her.

She had a point.

But now, on the day after all that general joy, Drusilla couldn’t do anything but assess her new charge, who was bouncing on her heels in the hallway.

“Thank you, my lady, thank you,” Miss Emily said, clutching Drusilla’s hand in both of her own.

Drusilla had sent a note to the earl’s house with instructions for both of them to appear at teatime, and they had arrived only a few minutes before.

Drusilla didn’t want to bother Bertha with getting the door, since she was currently waging war with the table linens, so she answered their knock herself.

Miss Emily had trotted happily inside, the earl following after.

Drusilla couldn’t help but notice he seemed to have taken additional care with his wardrobe again, and his beard looked as though it had been thoroughly brushed and oiled.

Not that his attentions were going to save him from her ministrations, mind you, but she appreciated the effort.

She already anticipated sparring with him on any number of things related to the enterprise; the beard removal was just one item.

It was a pleasure, she’d found, to lock wits with someone who was as sharp as she, and she’d already been pleasantly surprised to discover he was.

His argument for persuading her to take on the duty was excellent, as was his promise of reward for fulfilling the task.

“Good afternoon,” the earl said in his brogue.

“Good afternoon,” Drusilla replied. “Please, come into the grand salon. We will all be comfortable there.” She gestured down the hallway, then began to walk in that direction, narrowly avoiding tripping over a child’s ball and an umbrella missing a few ribs.

“Mind your step,” she called over her shoulder as she led them in.

They made their way inside. Drusilla seldom used this room, as it was far too grand, both in size and decoration, to be used in her normal course of business.

It had floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the street, with several carefully placed sofas upholstered in a jeweled panorama of ruby, sapphire, and emerald velvet.

The walls were papered in an ornate pattern, with various portraits, landscapes, and pictures of random fruit studded about.

“Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the sofas flanking the fireplace.

She hadn’t had the fire laid, because the weather was temperate enough to skip it, and she didn’t like to waste funds on firewood when she could just as easily put on a shawl.

She figured the earl was likely warm from his musculature and Miss Emily was too excited to notice a chill.

“Thank you,” Miss Emily repeated. “My uncle said you have a list? And that you’ll be taking me to get a wardrobe? And etiquette and dancing lessons?” Each of her sentences was spoken with an uplift at the end so that it sounded as though Drusilla was being bombarded with questions.

“Er, yes?” Drusilla replied, then wanted to slap herself for following the young girl’s verbal lead.

Miss Emily clapped her hands together. “I cannot wait!” The black-and-white kitten jumped onto her lap, and she made a delighted noise, immediately cooing over the tiny thing.

Drusilla watched them with a fond look. “That’s Tina,” she said.

“I think.” She pulled the list from the day before from her pocket.

“We don’t have much time, so you won’t have to wait.

I do hope we can get all of this accomplished in a month—that is when the Season is said to officially open.

” She didn’t usually pay attention to those things, since she lived in London year-round and didn’t have a country house to retreat to anyway if she did pay attention.

“We’ll need to evaluate your current skills.

Both of you,” she added, glancing between the two of them.

The earl immediately drew himself up with a frown, and Drusilla gave him a quelling look.

He subsided, but not without first giving her a fierce glare.

Something about it roused something in her, but she had to remind herself that he was not a potential bed partner but her business partner.

Two very different things, and she could not mix the two.

She’d just have to admire him within the sanctity of her own mind.

“I am ready to begin,” Miss Emily said, leaping to her feet as Tina jumped off her lap.

The girl was certainly energetic, Drusilla had to admit.

“You can sit for this portion,” Drusilla said gently. Miss Emily sat down as suddenly as she’d stood. She glanced around as though kitten searching, but the little thing had likely scampered off.

“Tell me, please,” she continued, directing her questions at the girl, “what have you learned thus far?”

Miss Emily bit her lip in thought. “I was taught how to manage a household, if that is what you mean. My grandmother”—and here her expression grew soft—“thought it was an essential skill for a future wife.”

“And?” Drusilla prompted, when Miss Emily had gone silent.

“And I practiced dancing with the vicar’s daughters. They were younger than me, and very wild,” she said, with a disapproving shake of the head.

Not as wild as I was at that age, I’d imagine , Drusilla thought. Or this age, for that matter.

The thought brought a smile to her lips.

“You’ve practiced your curtseys,” the earl said in his usual gruff voice. “And I don’t think you lack in table manners, from what I’ve seen.”

“We’ll review later on.” Drusilla bit back the words that would point out that this Scottish giant was not necessarily the final say in etiquette.

Not that she was routinely proper, certainly, but she knew what she should be doing.

She just didn’t always choose to do it. Had the earl ever chosen to be improper, knowing what was correct and ignoring the information?

Or was he just muddling along with the vague sense that he was fine as long as he didn’t trip over anyone or cause a scandal?

She had to imagine it was the latter. She’d like to see him do the former, but then—no. No, she wouldn’t. Business partner , she reminded herself.

“I’ll hire a dancing master to start early next week,” she said. “We should plan on dining together in the evenings— Hm!” she said, as a thought struck her.

“What is it, my lady?” Emily asked.

Drusilla glanced from one to the other, wondering if the earl would change his mind about entrusting her with his charge when he heard her suggestion.

“Well, I am thinking—you two have temporary lodging, is that correct?”

“We’re staying in Mayfair, a friend of Emily’s parents”—and his speech halted for a moment—“has gone to Paris, and he was going to shut up the house, but then he heard we would be in town.”

“The servants were supposed to have a holiday,” Emily added.

The earl gave her a surprised look. “They were?”

Emily nodded. “Mr. Cantwell said they could take a week for themselves and then return to keep the house running properly. The downstairs maid, Flora, told me.” Then she flushed, as though aware she’d revealed she was gossiping with the servants, which proper young ladies were not supposed to do.

If Drusilla had been a stickler, she would have pointed that out as part of her guidance, but since it served her purpose, she’d forgo mentioning it.

“Well,” Drusilla said, clapping her hands, “I have plenty of room here, plus we have a lot of work to do. How about you move in with me for the Season?”

Miss Emily’s eyes sparkled with happiness, while the earl—well, she couldn’t gauge his expression. Just that it was wary but not shocked. She’d accept that.

“We couldn’t,” he began.

“That would be wonderful!” Emily exclaimed.

The earl huffed out a breath, then cast his eyes heavenward before speaking. “Thank you, my lady. It will make it more convenient.”

Drusilla smiled, relieved he hadn’t been disgusted by her idea. It did make more sense, and would be far more convenient for everyone, but she knew it was...untoward.

But then again, so was she.

M urdoch had to tamp every part of himself down when she made her suggestion. Being under one roof with her—separated by a few thin walls made of horsehair, flint stones, and plaster—would make it difficult not to think about her.

He’d never reacted this viscerally to a woman before. But there was something about her unexpected fire, her wit and intelligence, and how she was clearly unintimidated by him—even his size—that set his imagination alight.

She was the most unusual woman he’d ever met. The most unusual person he’d ever met, and he wanted to know more about her.

“Excellent,” she said, smiling. She leaned over to ring a small bell on a side table.

Her servant, the one who’d clung to his shoulders two days ago, immediately popped into the room. The woman was wearing what appeared to be men’s trousers with a very long jacket over them, making it seem that the jacket was imitating a gown. “Yes, my lady?”

If Lady Drusilla was unusual, this person was completely unconventional.

“Joey, you saw the Earl of Cragmore and his niece, Miss Emily, the other day. They will be coming to stay with us for a time. Can you ask Bertha to make the blue and rose bedrooms available?”

The servant’s—Joey’s—eyes widened. “But that’s where—”

“Yes, I know,” Lady Drusilla said, cutting Joey off. “You will see to it.” It was not a request.

Joey made a face as though she was going to roll her eyes but didn’t say anything, just nodded and left the room.

“There,” Lady Drusilla said, patting her lap. “That is all settled. You can move in as early as this evening, if you like.”

It was all happening far too quickly for him.

In Scotland, he was accustomed to things moving at his pace.

After all, he was the laird of his estate, and it wasn’t as though a lot of things happened anyway, no matter who was in charge.

There was the sheep shearing, and the planting, and the harvesting, and such of that nature.

But those were all easy to predict, what with their happening cyclically and all.

These lightning-fast changes were making him dizzy.

Or perhaps that was just her.

It was a good thing he was determined to put Emily’s well-being ahead of anything else, or he’d have been far more distracted by Lady Drusilla.

He admired someone so different from himself: a person who was comfortable with others, who was accustomed to speaking her mind, and whose thoughts were mercurial.

He had strong opinions—like her—but generally found himself at a loss for words when it came to sharing them.

Fortunately, he wasn’t usually questioned when he made his thoughts known.

He also thought in a measured, logical way.

His thoughts didn’t trip and hop from one to the other like a drunk frog.

“I hope,” he began, as she pivoted her attention to him like a curious bird, “we are not displacing you too much.”

She waved a hand. “I would not have offered. Joey was being cautious on my behalf. You see, I’ve got my collection in what will be your room, and we’ll need to move it. But it is no matter.”

“Collection of...?” he replied.

Her cheeks turned just a hint pinker. Was it possible she was embarrassed? If so, he definitely wanted to hear more about the collection. Or nothing about it. He couldn’t decide.

“Taxidermied animals,” she said. “Not the cats that live here, mind you,” she said hurriedly. “We’re adopting them out.”

And then she fell silent. As the other two of them did.

Eventually, Murdoch cleared his throat. “Um—”

“Panoramic tableaux of animals,” she explained. That was definitely a blush.

“Ah, I see,” he said, even though he didn’t. But he felt somehow triumphant that she’d blushed, since he’d spent most of the time since he met her in a twisted knot of awkwardness and desire. After the first few moments, when all he’d been was irate.

“I want to move in straightaway,” Emily exclaimed, suddenly rising up from her chair. “Let’s go, Uncle.”

Murdoch rose also, not quite as uncomfortable as he’d been the day before.

Perhaps because the room was bigger and the sofas seemed more substantial. Perhaps it was Lady Drusilla.

He knew it was her.

He just couldn’t admit it to himself.

“W as that wise?” Joey asked, when the earl and Miss Emily had gone.

Drusilla didn’t pretend not to know what her friend meant. “Wise? Perhaps not. But you have to admit it’s much more convenient.”

“Convenient for what?” Joey said, waggling her eyebrows.

“Do be quiet,” Drusilla replied. “We’ve got important things to do, not this—”

“Prospecting for your unmentionable activities?” Joey said, quoting from the house of ill repute Drusilla had rescued her from. “I think that is important. I want you to be in a good frame of mind to go tour buildings and make our plans for the future. You know how you get when it’s been too long.”

“I just called it off with Dish! I don’t need anything new that quickly,” Drusilla retorted.

Joey’s look was all the answer she got.

“Fine,” Drusilla said. “Can we talk about the Greens now? The eldest finally doesn’t smell, so I think we can send him around to the butcher’s. Bertha said they mentioned they needed an errand boy, and I imagine carrying meat around the city is better than carrying around dog excrement.”

“Mrs. Green has proven handy with a needle, Bertha says. She said the mending took only half the time.”

“Should we start taking mending in for more money?” Drusilla asked, only half joking.

“Have you forgotten?” Joey replied. “You’re on your way to landing a new building without having to expend a speck of coin.

All you need to do is share your hobnobbing ways, get that girl married to someone reasonable, and try to keep your hands off her guardian.

” The last part was delivered with a sly wink that Drusilla did not appreciate.

She rolled her eyes. “Agreed,” she said. “Let’s go start clearing out the room so the earl—all massive size of him, minus the beard—will have somewhere to rest his head.”

The two went upstairs, still squabbling, where they remained until it was dinnertime.