Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  “Eve.”

  Eve broke from her thoughts.

  “Where is your mind today?” Grace asked.

  “My mind is on Lord Rushton. He may expect to spend money, but we both know he is accustomed to spending money on women with no intention of marrying them. Can you really want to marry a man who admits he would make a terrible husband and has sworn to attend to his pleasures as he always has despite his marriage?”

  “That is what most men do,” Grace replied.

  “Not quite. Most men don’t abandon their wives in the Scottish Highlands, and a decent man is discreet.” Though she’d wondered what was decent about marrying one woman and regularly bedding another. “Lord Rushton will not curb the behavior that places his name in the gossip sheets on par with George IV.”

  Grace giggled. “Thank the powers above that Lord Rushton is not so…homely.”

  Eve paused in taking another sip of tea. “I have never known you to care about such things.”

  “You never asked.”

  She had a point. Eve drank the tea, then put the cup back on the saucer and picked up the small plate of sweet goods. She took a piece of shortbread and extended the plate toward Grace. She took a piece and Eve set the plate back down.

  “His is very rich and very handsome,” Eve said. “And he will one day be the Marquess of Rushton. But he does come with one very big drawback.”

  “Only one?” Grace asked.

  “You think he has more?” she asked, surprised.

  Grace laughed. “He is a man. Of course he has more. He has many drawbacks.”

  “Such as?”

  “He thinks he is always right.”

  At least Grace had listed his faults with the most important first.

  “He drinks a lot.”

  Eve startled. She hadn’t heard that and wouldn’t have thought that to be one of his defects. “How much?”

  Grace gave an impatient shake of her head. “Not so much he would beat his wife.”

  “A man who drinks too much has a habit of developing that fault.”

  Grace smiled. “I am sure you would shoot him if he tried it.”

  Eve was doubly surprised that Grace thought she would protect her. “I cannot do that if you are hundreds of miles away in Scotland.”

  “Did you consider that he might want to show me off?” Grace asked.

  “If he was wise that is exactly what he would do,” Eve said.

  Grace’s brows dove downward. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Not at all. You are a beautiful woman. Any man would be proud to have you.”

  Grace studied her for a moment. “Are you angry that I’m more beautiful than you?”

  Eve smiled. “You always were direct, Grace.”

  “It is a bad habit, I know. Mamma says I must curb that fault until I am married.”

  “Mamma is not always right.”

  “She is not always wrong, either. So, are you?”

  “Am I what?” Eve finished her shortbread.

  “Angry I am more beautiful.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I would be.”

  “You say that because you are very beautiful and cannot imagine being anything less.”

  Grace seemed to consider. “I suppose that is true. Is that wrong?”

  Eve shook her head. “No.”

  “Are you in love with him?” Grace asked.

  “Am I—good Lord—” She broke off and glanced at the clerk who hadn’t reacted to her outburst, but was counting the packages piled high on the counter. Eve looked at Grace and lowered her voice. “No. Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “You should be rushing us to the altar. That would save you from marrying him. Instead, you seem to be against our marriage.”

  “I am against you getting trapped in a marriage that will leave you miserable.”

  “You are confusing me with you,” Grace said. “I am not looking for a love match.”

  “You deserve love, Grace.”

  “Deserve love?” She shuddered. “That is far too much trouble.”

  “Love is not trouble.” Well, maybe it was a bit, she privately admitted.

  “You are funny,” Grace said. “You’re much more practical than I, yet you believe in love. I, on the other hand, have no use for love. I plan to enjoy myself.”

  “How much time can you actually spend parting your husband from his money?” Eve asked. “Will spending money and going to parties be your life?”

  “Partly.” A small smile curled a corner of her mouth.

  Dawning realization crept over Eve. “Do you mean you intend…” She couldn’t finish.

  “Intend what?”

  “Despite his own debauched ways, I seriously Lord Rushton will countenance a wife who takes lovers,” Eve said in a very low whisper.

  Grace shrugged. “I’ll give him the required heir first, and perhaps a spare, if he proves a worthy enough distraction.”

  “Distraction?” Eve couldn’t imagine Lord Rushton as a distraction. The man demanded attention and got it.

  “He will make the perfect diversion for bored nights at home and there is no danger of me falling in love with him.” Grace screwed up her face. “That would be a terrible snag in my plan—and heaven forbid he should decide he loves me.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Eve said. “A woman whose husband loves her is very fortunate.”

  “Men who are in love feel the need to order their wives about,” Grace said. “And they hover. Oh, but that is tiresome. Have you seen the way Katherine’s husband constantly hovers? Lord, he won’t let her out of his sight.”

  “Katherine is heavy with child,” Eve said. “Lord Branson is an anxious father-to-be.”

  Grace shook her head “I have no intention of allowing a man to shackle me. Lord Rushton is not likely to wax sentimental. But he is quite handsome and experienced. I expect we shall enjoy one another quite a lot before we grow bored enough to resort to civilities.”

  “My God,” Eve breathed, suddenly understanding. “You…you are just like him.”

  Grace gave her a ‘you poor dear’ look, and said, “Of course I am.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Three hours later, when Erroll returned with Somerset, he wasn’t surprised at the mountain of packages loaded atop their coach. He was, however, curious about the pensive direction Miss Eve Crenshaw’s mood seemed to have taken.

  “I see you are wearing new dresses,” he commented. The younger sister wore a pretty yellow muslin and the elder a white muslin that contrasted the soft, honey brown curls of her hair.

  “Why buy new clothes if we don’t wear them?” Grace Crenshaw said.

  “I quite agree.” He particularly liked the way the long, Indian muslin pelisse molded to the elder sister’s breasts. “Shall we walk?” he asked. “There is a millinery shop not far from here I thought you might like. We aren’t in the heart of town, so it should be a quiet walk.”

  “How wonderful,” Grace Crenshaw cried. “Do not forget, my lord, you promised we would stop at the bakery on the way back to the ship.”

  “Thank you for reminding me. We cannot forget that. Oscar,” Erroll called, “we plan to walk to our next destination.”

  Oscar nodded and climbed up beside the driver of the carriage.

  Erroll surveyed his group. “Shall we proceed?”

  Miss Eve Crenshaw stepped forward with the obvious intent to partner with Somerset, but Somerset winged an arm at the younger sister who stood between them.

  “May I?” he asked.

  She demurred with calculated perfection, but Erroll caught the drop of her lashes before he turned to the elder sister. “Seems you’re stuck with me.”

  “How fortunate for me,” she said.

  He offered his arm. She accepted and they followed the other two along the narrow walkway.

  “I see you did a bit of shopping yourself.”

  Erroll’s mind snapped to attention. Had her glance
indicated more than the notice of his change of attire? “Buckskin breeches are more suited to our current adventure,” he said. “Do you not agree?”

  “I couldn’t say, my lord.”

  Her voice had been casual, but Erroll noted with delight a hint of color rising in her cheeks. So the form fitting breeches were to her liking. Would it be to her liking if he pulled her into the warmth of his greatcoat and wrapped his arms around her?

  They walked a moment with the carriage following behind when Eve Crenshaw slowed, her gaze fixed on a patch of snowdrops that had sprung up wild in the grass beside the sidewalk.

  When Grace and her escort were several paces ahead of them, she said, “What will you do if Lord Halifax dies?”

  “No need to worry yourself over that.”

  “You will leave the Continent,” she persisted.

  “Perhaps.”

  “I don’t think our father will allow either of us to marry a man who is wanted for murder.”

  “I should say not,” Erroll said.

  “That is why you didn’t insist that one of us marry you in Gretna.”

  It wasn’t a question. “That was one reason,” he replied.

  “Your wish not to marry is another.”

  This was not a question either. “Perhaps I simply never found someone I wanted to marry.”

  She gave her head a frustrated shake. “That is a very convenient answer.”

  “That does not make it untrue.” Or true for that matter, he reflected with amusement.

  She studied him for a moment, then said, “Our father won’t allow you to abandon his daughter in Scotland while you return to London and carry on as you please.”

  His daughter? So the lady was softening her tactic in steering him toward her sister—and letting him know her father would continue to take an interest in his daughter’s welfare.

  “In all fairness, I was angry when I said that.”

  Erroll thought he heard a low growl from the coach, which had slowed and was trailing suspiciously close to them. He should have known that ridiculous threat would come back to haunt him. The last thing he needed was the brute leaping from the coach to teach him a lesson in how a gentleman paid his addresses to a lady.

  “I was, after all, innocent of your sister’s accusations,” Erroll said. “Not to mention, I had just endured a very long lecture from my father and a five hour race to catch my accuser. I was not about to passively walk the plank.”

  Her gaze dropped and her shoulders shook slightly. He started to ask what was wrong, but his attention fixed on the curved flesh above her bodice. Lust made a stab at his groin with a dark intent that would certainly have Oscar upon him instantly. Then Erroll realized she was laughing.

  “I don’t blame you for being testy,” she said through barely muffled laughter.

  Erroll wondered whether she was laughing at the idea of him racing to catch his accuser or him walking the plank. “Then I am not quite the cad you thought I was?”

  “You aren’t guilty of compromising Grace. But you are still a rakehell, and I think you meant it when you said you would go on with your pleasures as you always have.”

  “Perhaps not exactly as I always have.” By God, if the brute overheard that, Erroll might have to remain awake, armed and vigilant the duration of the trip.

  Miss Crenshaw lifted her head and studied his face. “I don’t want Grace to be hurt. She is without question the better choice as your wife. She has been groomed for marriage her entire life.”

  Erroll grimaced. “You make her sound like a prize sow.” And him the prize hog.

  Miss Crenshaw’s brows shot up. “If you care for your sanity, do not allow Grace to hear you mention prize sows and her name in the same sentence.”

  That was the best advice anyone had given him in some time.

  “I’m sorry you had to fight the duel with Lord Halifax,” she said. “If you have to leave because of that it would be terrible.”

  Erroll clasped the hand she had around his arm and gave a squeeze. “The duel wasn’t your fault. Halifax was angry because I interfered with his dalliance.”

  Her gaze cut to the hand he’d placed atop hers, then she looked straight ahead. “Had we not surprised them, it’s likely things would have gone badly for Lady Gallagher,” she said.

  Erroll allowed his hand to drop from hers. “Then neither of us is to blame. Neville is a bastard. It is a wonder someone didn’t shoot him long ago.”

  “In any case, thank you.”

  Erroll liked the way the words sounded coming from her. “You are welcome.”

  “We cannot stay long in Scotland,” she said. “My father must be frantic with worry.”

  “Some of his fears are most certainly allayed by now,” Erroll said. “I sent word before we left Maryport.”

  She looked sharply at him. “Oh dear. That was right, of course, but you should have told us. I have been worrying.”

  “Forgive me. You are correct. It has been a hectic few days.”

  They reached the corner and turned. The coach halted for another carriage crossing the intersection before following. Somerset and Grace Crenshaw weren’t in sight and Erroll supposed they had reached the shop and gone inside.

  “How long until we reach your home?” Miss Crenshaw asked.

  “Two days, if we’re lucky. Three or more, if the weather conspires against us.”

  “I advise buying lots of sweets at the bake shop,” she said.

  “Have you a sweet tooth?”

  “I do, in fact, but this is for Grace. The food aboard ship is not fit for civilized people. She will arrive in Scotland in a much better frame of mind if she isn’t forced to subsist on salted meat and hard biscuits the duration of the voyage. Oh dear, I am not showing her to her best light, am I? To be fair, you really cannot expect her to do well when thrust into an unplanned voyage on a cargo ship.”

  “Of course not,” Erroll agreed.

  “Once we reach Mull, you will see that she can be very sweet,” Eve went on. “Not to mention, she is an exceptionally beautiful woman. You cannot deny that is pleasant.”

  He had to agree, and willed himself not to glance at her bodice to confirm that truth. He remembered too well the pleasure of her erect nipple in his mouth.

  “There is still the one problem,” he said, aside from the lust that kept him awake nights. They reached the shop and he stopped. Miss Crenshaw looked inquiringly up at him. “I did say I would not marry a woman who lies. It is unnerving to wonder what her next lie will be.”

  She gave him a shrewd look. “Everyone lies, you included.”

  “What do you lie about, Miss Crenshaw?”

  Her mouth parted in surprise, then she pulled her hand from his arm and stepped toward the door. “As we will not be marrying, that is none of your concern.”

  *****

  Eve stared down at the dark mass in the middle of the dinner plate Oscar set on the table before her.

  “What is it?” Grace asked.

  “I don’t know.” Using her fork, Eve lifted the corner of the charred heap. She shifted her attention to Oscar, who stood waiting. “What is this?”

  “Steak, Miss.”

  “What happened to the salted beef we ate yesterday?” As hard as it was to believe, it looked better than this.

  “His lordship had this cooked especially for you,” Oscar replied.

  “He hates us,” Grace said.

  Eve wondered if Grace was right. “That is cruel and unusual punishment.”

  “He had supplies brought aboard, but better food doesn’t mean much when the cook is no good,” Oscar said.

  Grace pushed the plate away. “I will have one of the sweet goods we brought aboard.”

  “Can we expect more of the same tomorrow?” Eve asked.

  “I think so,” Oscar said.

  Eve cast another glance at the meat and shuddered. “Call for his lordship.”

  Oscar looked uncertain. “Miss, he is busy and�
�”

  “Good God, Oscar, you have known the man three days and take his side against me on every occasion. I will not forgive you for this.”

  “Probably not, Miss,” he said. “But it is better you’re alive to stay mad at me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You could have escorted Grace and I from Gretna Green back to Manchester. That would have been a far safer course of action than this one.”

  “I couldn’t let your sister go with his lordship alone.”

  Eve gave an impatient shake of her head. “We would have all returned home to Manchester.”

  “Your sister wasn’t going to go with us,” he replied.

  “He is right,” Grace said. “My only choice was to accompany Lord Rushton. This ensures we will marry.”

  Eve felt a headache looming. “Oscar, fetch his lordship before I take this piece of coal on my plate and stuff it down your throat.”

  Oscar snorted, then left.

  When the door closed behind him, Eve said to her sister, “So you told Oscar you wouldn’t return to Manchester? Very clever.”

  “You don’t give him enough credit. He saw what you refuse to admit.”

  Eve suddenly wondered if she was doing Lord Rushton an injustice. Grace wasn’t in the habit of lying, but the lie that had gotten them into this mess was fueled by a nearly fanatical desire to become the Marchioness of Rushton. Her willingness to do almost anything to attain her goal was no better than being the liar Lord Rushton thought her to be.

  “So you will spin me in your web, consequences be damned?” Eve demanded.

  Grace gave her a critical look. “You knew the risks when you had Oscar kidnap Lord Rushton, as did I when I agreed to the scheme. You must accept the consequences and not expect me to change my course of action.”

  Eve stared. “Your course of action? Grace, we’re in a serious muddle.”

  “Indeed we are, which is why the earl will have to take action.”

  “He has already taken action. What if he has to flee the Continent?”