Seduction Regency Style

by Louisa Cornell

  Roslyn blinked. “I, uh, cannot say, ma’am. His lordship does not take me into his confidence. Neither does your son, of course,” she quickly added. She wasn’t lying, not exactly. Neither gentleman had told her anything, but she had eyes and it was clear the two were well on their way to reconciliation. “No doubt, Mister Murray will confide in you, ma’am.”

  The woman gave a jerky nod and Roslyn realized she feared that her son’s new status might cause a rift between the two of them. Luckily, before the woman could ask another question, Mary entered carrying a tea tray.

  “Mary, please see to Mrs. Murray,” Roslyn said. “I will fetch your son, ma’am.” Roslyn hurried away before the woman could reply.

  Roslyn hurried to Mister Murray’s bedchambers and knocked. He opened the door, and she flushed at sight of his crisp white shirt open at the neck—a strong, tanned neck.

  “Mrs. Green.”

  Roslyn blinked. Surprise and—nae, she couldn’t be right—was that delight in his eyes? He smiled. She hadn’t noticed before what a beautiful smile he had. Well, she had noticed but, oddly, with the pleasure she clearly read on his face, he seemed even more handsome than he had at dinner last night.

  “Mrs. Green?” he repeated.

  “Uh.” Oh dear. Had she been staring? “I-I am sorry, sir. We have a visitor. Your mother.”

  Surprise flickered across his face. “My mother? I hadn’t expected her.”

  “She waits in the parlor, sir.”

  “Let me get my coat.”

  He turned. Roslyn stared as the white fabric of his shirt went taut across broad shoulders as he buttoned the top button of his shirt. He scooped his folded coat from the chair near the window and Roslyn yanked her gaze to the rug.

  “I apologize for my mother’s unexpected arrival.” He shrugged into his coat.

  “Think nothing of it, sir.” Roslyn kept her gaze lowered as he strode toward her.

  She stepped aside when he reached the hallway, and he pulled the door shut as she started forward. With quick steps, he caught up with her. Two minutes later, they arrived at the parlor. Mister Murray reached for the door handle and Roslyn started away.

  “Mother, what a surprise to see you. Mrs. Green, is my uncle well enough for a visit today?”

  Roslyn halted and turned around. “A short visit. As you know, we do not want to overexcite him.”

  He nodded, expression solemn. “Perhaps it would be best if you inform him of our visit ahead of time.”

  “An excellent idea, sir. I will have Mary prepare a room for Mrs. Murray and inform cook there will be one more for meals.”

  His grateful smile caused her heart to speed up.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Green.”

  Roslyn curtsied and, as he pulled the door closed, she released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The earl was agog at the prospect of meeting his nephew’s mother, but Roslyn threatened to cancel the visit if he didn’t rest and remain calm. He grudgingly agreed, and Roslyn headed toward town, planning the purchase of fresh rabbits and vegetables for Cook’s dinner.

  The house had been a cheerier place since Mister Murray’s arrival. His mother, however, seemed a reserved woman, and Roslyn hoped her presence didn’t excite the old earl any more than it already had. Despite a tad bit of worry, she found herself humming on her walk. His lordship was in far better spirits than he had been since she’d arrived and had rallied somewhat as a result. Mister Murray clearly cared for his uncle. Roslyn had begun to hope that once the earl passed on that his nephew might keep her on. Life as the housekeeper in such a fine home was more than she had hoped for. Nearly two months had passed with no sign of Teryn. Was it possible he’d stopped searching for her? What if she could remain at Balmurray?

  She would see Mister Murray often.

  Roslyn halted. Good Lord, why should she care about seeing him? She shouldn’t.

  His smile rose in memory. He had the most delightful smile. Roslyn swallowed. This was dangerous ground. Very dangerous, indeed. Her heart sank and she forced her feet to walk again. This time, however, she didn’t hum.

  By the time Roslyn reached the market, she determined that once the old earl was gone, she would leave. That had been her original plan, after all. Cook and the others wouldn’t understand, but she would tell them that she was going to family. She had saved all her money and would have more by the time she left. That meant she could take a coach far, far away from her stepbrother and the viscount. To her shame—and horror—the thought brought the sting of tears. She was a fool—twice over.

  Roslyn reached the market and began a halfhearted search for the rabbit. She slowed at the stall owned by Mrs. Rose.

  “Mrs. Green,” the young woman smiled. “What can I do for ye, today?”

  Roslyn mustered a smile. “Have you any rabbit?”

  The woman’s eyes lit. “Indeed, I do.” She squatted and lifted a cage that contained three adult rabbits. “Rory brought them over just this morning.”

  “The three will do,” Roslyn said. “Can you have them sent to Balmurray right away?”

  The young woman’s smile widened. “Aye.”

  Roslyn gave her a slight smile then turned and meandered through the market. It wouldn’t hurt for her to purchase a few more vegetables. The earl loved beets and they were nearly out of them.

  She purchased beets and continued her perusal of the stands. She should return home, but the thought of home brought memories of Mister Murray’s broad shoulders and, yes, his smile when he’d seen her that morning. Oh, such dangerous thoughts. So very—

  Roslyn froze. Two rows over, her stepbrother Teryn stood talking with Lillian Hay, daughter of a local farmer. Lilliam knew Roslyn.

  Roslyn whirled and pushed past two women. They frowned at her. She bobbed her head in apology and forced back panic while she hurried away. She turned down a row of stalls and thought she heard someone call her name. She ducked between stalls and emerged onto the road, rushed across the street, and hurried inside a small dress shop.

  The woman showing two ladies several bolts of satin and lace glanced Roslyn’s way and smiled. “I will be with you in a moment, Miss.”

  Roslyn nodded acknowledgment and pretended to inspect hats on a shelf to the left of the door. Only one small window displayed a ball gown and gloves. Heart pounding, she watched the window from the corner of her eye. Dear God, how had Teryn managed to track her down? How stupid of her to think he might give up his search. She had to leave immediately. Tears pressed hard against the backs of her eyes. How could she leave the old earl? Pain squeezed her heart. His nephew was now part of the old man’s life. The earl no longer needed her.

  “How may I help you, Miss?”

  Roslyn jumped at the woman’s close proximity.

  The woman frowned. “Is something amiss?”

  Roslyn gave a jerky shake of her head. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I-I was just so engrossed in looking at the”—she glanced at the shelf with its display of ivory gloves—”these gloves. Did you make them?”

  The woman beamed. “My daughter made them, Miss. She is fifteen.”

  Roslyn blinked in surprise. “You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

  The woman laughed. “I am thirty-six.”

  Warmth flushed Roslyn’s cheeks. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to be forward.”

  The woman lifted a brow. “I cannot be insulted that folks take me for being younger than I am.”

  “I suppose not.”

  From the corner of her eye, Roslyn glimpsed a tall, familiar figure crossing the street. Her stepbrother. She turned from the window and started toward the bolts of fabric displayed on the counter at the rear of the shop.

  “Are you looking for particular fabric?” the woman asked.

  Roslyn murmured that the olive-green silk on the nearest bolt was very nice. The dressmaker chatted on about how a beige lace over the silk was the perfect touch and would
look lovely on Roslyn.

  Roslyn’s heart raced. She needed to leave. She kept her money in a small jewelry box hidden at the bottom of the trunk in her room. Oh, if she had the money with her, she could leave immediately. Guilt stabbed. How could she leave the earl without saying goodbye? She would return home, retrieve the money, and leave a note. Tears threatened again. She would never see Mister Murray again.

  Stop it, she mentally chided. There is no reason that you should see him again.

  Roslyn shifted so that she could covertly look out the window and found no sign of her stepbrother. “I will consider the silk,” she said, and hurried to the door.

  Roslyn could feel the woman’s eyes on her, but she opened the door slowly and peered into the road. People crowded the market across the street. She looked left, then right, found no sign of her stepbrother, and hurried from the shop.

  Ten minutes later, Roslyn veered from the road onto the property of his lordship’s neighbor, Viscount Heston, and nearly ran until she reached the trees that lined the road leading to Balmurray. Typically, she would never walk in the woods for fear of meeting some unscrupulous character. Today, however, the unscrupulous character she fled was far worse than anyone she would likely meet in the woods.

  Was it possible that Teryn being here was a coincidence? Nae, such a coincidence was not the sort of good fortune she typically enjoyed. There was simply no help for the matter, she had to leave immediately.

  At last, Roslyn reached the small grove near the stables and hurried along the path. She emerged from the trees and stopped short at sight of Mister Murray leaving the stables. His gaze locked with hers and he frowned in the instant before she turned. Roslyn hurried back toward the trees.

  “Mrs. Green,” he called.

  Roslyn quickened her pace.

  “Mrs. Green,” his call was nearer.

  Boot falls pounded the ground behind her and, an instant later, strong fingers seized her arm and swung her around. She stumbled and Mister Murray caught her.

  “How dare you?” she cried, and shoved at his chest.

  He looked down at her, eyes dark, brow creased. “What is amiss, Mrs. Green?”

  “What is amiss is that you—you have accosted me.” To her horror, she realized she was crying.

  His fingers tightened on her arms. “Did someone harm you?” he demanded.

  Her stepbrother’s face rose in memory and she shuddered.

  “Who hurt you?” the viscount demanded.

  “N-no one,” she blubbered.

  He held her at arm’s length and raked his gaze down her body. “Your clothes are in order.” His eyes returned to her face. “Something has frightened you.”

  She wanted to shout that he should release her, but the words stuck in her throat behind the lump that seemed to strangle her. Her legs weakened and she buried her face in his coat and cried in earnest. His arms tightened around her, and she wished mightily that she could stay in his arms forever.

  He made shushing sounds and stroked her back.

  Once her tears slowed, he asked, “Can you tell me what happened?

  She shook her head, unable to speak.

  “Mrs. Green.”

  One arm still firmly around her waist, he grasped her chin and tilted her face upward. She stared at him through tears. His brow furrowed. She froze when he lowered his head. His mouth touched hers and warmth rippled through her. Her head spun. This was wrong, very wrong. Yet felt so very good. She made a small sound and a growl reverberated up through his chest. Butterflies skittered across the insides of her stomach. Good Lord, the man was reducing her to jelly. What—

  This was wrong!

  Roslyn pushed away from him. He released her and stared, confusion and desire swirling in his eyes.

  “I-I am sorry, my lord.” She whirled and raced toward the manor.

  “Mrs. Green,” he called, but she kept going.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Quinn watched Mrs. Green until she disappeared around the stables. Good God, the woman had been afraid and in tears and he’d practically accosted her. She must fear him as much as she feared whoever or whatever had frightened her.

  Damnation. He should have discovered what had happened. Now, she would likely avoid him. It would serve him right for being such a brute.

  Quinn headed toward the house. What could have frightened her, so? Cook had told him she’d gone to town to purchase rabbit for their supper. Rabbit, it seems, was a favorite of his uncle’s. Quinn laughed. The old man might once have loved rabbit, but he doubted that Mrs. Green would give him so much as a taste.

  His mother’s arrival had put the household in something of a stir.

  Frustration flared. If the damage hadn’t already been done, he would send her home. Blast her impertinence. She shouldn’t have come. His plans for the day had gone completely awry with his mother’s arrival. He’d looked forward to a quiet breakfast with Mrs. Green—Roslyn. He had begun to wonder if it might not be best to confess that he knew her real identity.

  Quinn released a breath. He had gone and done it now, kissed Sir Stirling’s Flower of Scotland. Damn Sir Stirling. Quinn barked a laugh. He doubted even the famed Marriage Maker could have arranged Mrs. Green’s employment at Balmurray. This happenstance was almost comical.

  His amusement turned grim. He had to find out what had overset Mrs. Green. Perhaps it was time he apprised Sir Stirling that he’d found her. But what if he was wrong?

  He wasn’t and he knew it. Mrs. Green was Miss Roslyn Grant.

  Quinn slowed his walk. He’d only known the woman a short time, but she’d proven herself to be calm and unflappable. In his experience, when a strong woman was reduced to tears, a man was generally involved. He stopped short. Did she have a beau—or worse, a lover? His stomach clenched and he started at the realization that his hands had become fists.

  What the devil had gotten into him? So what if she had an admirer? It would be far stranger if she didn’t. Quinn began to walk. Then again, she clearly was going out of her way to appear older than she was. Which fit perfectly with the identity of The Flower of Scotland—a woman hiding from that bastard of a stepbrother.

  Quinn stopped again. The stepbrother. There was a fellow who could reduce even the most stalwart woman to tears. She had just returned from the market, deeply upset… Good God, was it possible…

  Quinn whirled and hurried back to the stables.

  Fifteen minutes later, he dug his heels into the belly of the bay gelding he had saddled and headed toward the village.

  Once at the village. it took a short fifteen minutes for Quinn to locate Teryn, who was filling his belly in the private dining room of the local inn. Quinn entered the room without knocking.

  Teryn looked up from his dinner plate and scowled. “Who—” His mouth fell open as Quinn strode toward him. “What are you doing here?” Teryn demanded.

  Quinn halted beside the table. “That is the very question I have for you.”

  The man blinked, then his expression darkened. “I cannae see that it’s any of your business what I am doing here.”

  “It is if you are harassing your stepsister.”

  Teryn’s eyes widened. “You know my sister?”

  “Stepsister,” Quinn corrected.

  He stood. “So that is why ye were nosing around at my inn last month.

  “Your inn, is it?” Quinn growled.

  “Where is she?” Teryn demanded.

  “What do you want with her?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “It’s like that, is it? My sister means the world to me and I will no’ have some fortune hunter trick her into marriage.”

  “Fortune hunter?” Quinn snorted. “Just as I thought. You mean to take possession of the inn her father left her.”

  Teryn’s eyes darkened. “I knew it. You think that you can steal her inheritance. I intend to protect her interests with my life, if necessary.”

  “That can be arranged.” Quinn started to turn.


  A large hand clapped his shoulder. Quinn spun and rammed his fist into Teryn’s jaw. The man stumbled backwards and crashed into an empty table.

  “Stay away from her,” Quinn ordered, and whirled toward the door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Roslyn knew with certainty that Teryn would show up on their doorstep any moment. She paced the carpet in her small room and wrung her hands. She glanced at her bedroom door, as if she could see through the wood into the old earl’s room. How could she leave without a word of farewell? How could she leave him with only Mary to care for him? Embarrassment warmed her cheeks. She put far too much importance on her presence at Balmurray house, particularly now that the earl’s nephew was in residence.

  Her face further heated. What would Mister Murray think when he learned the truth—for learn the truth they all would when Teryn arrived and demanded that she be handed over to him? She wouldn’t be able to bear the look of disdain on Mister Murray’s face when he heard Teryn’s lies. Never mind her employer. She had to leave immediately.

  She retrieved the money she’d hidden in the small chest and stuffed it into her reticule, then paused and looked around the room. She wouldn’t be able to bring anything with her. A valise would alert the staff to her intentions. Her heart sank. She could ill afford to replace the few clothes she owned.

  Roslyn removed the only other dress she owned from the armoire and pulled it on over the dress she wore. Once in the village, she would purchase a small valise. That would be far more economical than buying new clothes. She stuffed her stockings into her cloak pocket.

  Roslyn hurried down the servants’ stairs, escaped the house without being seen, and walked briskly along the road into town. She reached the village twenty minutes later. The coaching inn lay on the east side of town, another twenty-minute walk. She hurried along the walkway but stopped short at sight of Mister Murray’s bay gelding tied to the post outside the inn. She’d seen him less than an hour ago. What was he doing here? She had to be wrong. That couldn’t be his horse.

  She should keep going, hide until he left, but a niggling worry induced her to enter the inn. Roslyn breathed a small sigh of relief at finding the public dining room nearly full and the servants too busy to notice her presence. She scanned the dining room but found no sign of the earl’s heir.