Page 9 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)
The earl cleared his throat. “We are supposed to be focusing on my niece’s debut, not on how she can save the world.”
Drusilla gave him a challenging look. “Why can’t she do both?”
Miss Emily’s expression was dubious. “I have no idea how I’d even do that. Or if I’d want to.”
The conversation had headed in a very different direction than Drusilla had intended, but she was nothing if not adaptable.
She reached out and placed her hand on Miss Emily’s arm.
“The point is to be open to all of it. To taking just as much enjoyment out of a new gown or a wonderful piece of music as you will when you—eventually—fall in love. A young lady’s debut should be a joyful adventure throughout, regardless of the ultimate outcome. ”
“What was yours like?” Miss Emily asked.
Drusilla smothered a laugh. “Barely noticed. My parents were not the most...responsible people, you might say, and so they rather forgot, and I didn’t want to remind them.
I was too occupied with my own concerns at the time.
” Things like losing a sister to marriage, then falling in love with the entirely wrong man, then trying to mend my broken heart without my parents noticing anything was amiss.
That last item had been easy, since they were usually preoccupied with their own concerns.
“Then this will be your debut as well, then,” Miss Emily said in a bright tone.
It was on the tip of Drusilla’s tongue to retort that there was no need, but then she saw the girl’s delighted look, and her uncle’s equally pleading look, and she merely nodded.
“Indeed.”
She supposed it would be fun, to view all the festivities without feeling that gnawing need to be accepted. To be admired, or even loved.
That was, after all, what she’d long ago decided for herself—not to worry about acceptance, admiration, or love.
She would be on her own for the rest of her life, but she would have her community, and she would be just as happy— more happy—than if she had led a traditional life with a husband and children.
And perhaps she would be able to persuade this young girl not to make a mistake she would regret. The kind of mistake Drusilla wished someone had warned her about ten years earlier.
M urdoch stood in front of her, feeling like the most awkward, uncomfortable ass ever.
She’d made good on her promise to take him clothes shopping—it was the day after they’d arrived to stay with her, and she had knocked on his door at ten o’clock this morning.
Not too early for him, since he was accustomed to getting up with the dawn, but definitely early from what he knew of Society people.
Another reason why he just didn’t, and wouldn’t, fit into life here.
“Get ready,” she said when he opened the bedroom door.
“We’ve got an appointment at the clothier’s.
The proprietor is a dear friend of mine, and I told him we need a great deal of garments on very short notice.
” Then she gave him a quick nod and pulled the door shut again, leaving him entirely bewildered.
Now it was an hour later, and he’d been measured, and pinned, and adjusted until he felt like a child’s doll, subject to the whims of its owner.
“That is quite nice,” she said. She sat on a low sofa facing the dressing rooms as though she was a queen waiting to bestow judgment. “I like this. Banny, what do you think?”
Mr. Banford was the shop’s owner. He was a striking-looking gentleman with strong features and a shocking white lock in his otherwise dark hair. He seemed to be a bit older than Murdoch, but he showed no sign of aging except for the hair bit.
He and Lady Drusilla had an easy familiarity that made Murdoch wonder what their relationship was. Clearly it was more than shop owner and patron, but he couldn’t figure out how they might know each other.
Not that it was his business at all to know these kinds of details about her, but he had to admit he was fascinated.
He’d already taxed his brain about what she could possibly want a building for, given that her town house was already quite accommodating.
It was highly unlikely she would be opening a business, what with being both female and aristocratic.
Was she acquiring a building for someone else?
Or did she have a secret collection of dinosaur bones or something she needed to store?
Not that he knew if she was a dinosaur enthusiast.
Mr. Banford stood assessing Murdoch, one finger to his lips as he thought. “I think simplest tailoring is the best, Dru. He’s so large, if we add anything more it’ll just seem excessive—do you agree?” he asked, turning to her. To Dru .
She nodded vigorously. “Indeed. So we’ll want four day suits, three evening jackets, and a lot of white shirts.” She waved her hand. “And all of those extra things you gentlemen seem to need.”
Mr. Banford gave a dry chuckle. “You mean cuff links, handkerchiefs, gloves, and all of that?”
Again that dismissive wave. “Yes, and you’ll have to tell me where to go to purchase a pocket watch, a cane, and socks.”
Murdoch couldn’t take it anymore. “I draw the line at a cane,” he said, looking from one to the other.
Both of them looked startled, as though they had forgotten he was an actual living person and not a clothes mannequin.
“But a cane adds aplomb,” she said, rising from her seat and walking toward him.
He felt an uneasy sense of anticipation from the look in her eyes.
“Panache, even.” Now she stood directly in front of him, her gaze sliding leisurely from his face down to his feet.
He resisted the urge to squirm. “Don’t you want to have panache? ”
And then she patted his sleeve and returned to her seat.
“No!” he exploded, stepping off the raised platform. “I do not want to have panache.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt like an idiot.
But she didn’t seem to think so; instead, her mouth curled into a warm, amused smile as though she understood what was going through his mind.
Which was good, because he wasn’t certain himself. Was he entirely intrigued by her? Was he completely annoyed that she’d insisted he get new clothing and change his entire look? Was he grateful she had taken on Emily’s debut?
Yes, yes, and yes.