The Highlander and the Wallflower

by Michelle Willingham

  She might not accept his call, much less help him walk a dog. But it was an unconventional way of spending time with her. It might lift her spirits in some small way, and he could learn whether she needed his help in escaping the marriage.

  You shouldn’t do this, his brain warned. It’s wrong.

  He knew that. But he intended to try, even so.

  Chapter Two

  ‘My lady, you have a caller. Viscount Camford has asked if you are receiving.’ The footman, Louis, was holding a silver salver with the card upon it.

  Regina was about to refuse, when she heard the unexpected sound of barking. She regarded the footman. ‘Is that a dog?’ Surely, she was hearing things.

  ‘It is, my lady. Two of them, in fact.’

  A sudden flare of mirth caught her by surprise. ‘Really. Lord Camford brought dogs with him?’ She could hardly believe it. Why on earth would he do such a thing?

  The footman’s expression turned pained. ‘Yes, he did, my lady. Would you like me to send him away?’

  That would be the appropriate thing to do, considering she was promised to another man. But curiosity warred with her love of animals. She needed to see the dogs, regardless of Camford’s intentions.

  ‘Don’t send him away,’ she told the footman. ‘I will receive him in the parlour. And the dogs, of course.’ She had a weakness for them, since her mother had never allowed her to own one. Arabella believed that the animals were filthy creatures who would destroy the household. Although she had no idea what Lord Camford was up to, she was eager to see the dogs.

  ‘Yes, my lady.’ Her footman departed, and Regina put her book back upon the shelf of her father’s bookcase. She walked towards the parlour, still wondering why he had brought the dogs. The barking noise increased, and she sat in a chair, waiting impatiently.

  When Lord Camford entered the parlour, she could not stop the soft cry of delight at the squirming dogs. One was a pug and the other, his foxhound Laddie.

  ‘Good afternoon, Lady Regina,’ he greeted her. ‘I’ve brought other callers with me. You know Laddie, and this is Hubert. I saw Worthingstone’s footman walking him just down the street, and I offered to take him along with us.’

  ‘So I see.’ She knelt down to welcome his dog. Laddie was ageing, but he was still as sweet and affectionate as she remembered. Then she turned her attention to the other dog, and the pug began licking her gloves. ‘Aren’t you a darling?’ she cooed, taking the animal. Hubert was wiggling in her arms, and she sat upon the sofa, bringing him to her lap. Lord Camford sat beside her so she was able to pet both dogs.

  ‘Do you like them?’

  ‘I adore them.’ Regina lifted the pug for a kiss, and he licked her face. ‘It’s a good thing my mother is out paying calls. Else she would force you to take them away.’ She wondered what exactly Lord Camford was up to and decided to ask. ‘Why did you bring them to me?’

  ‘I remembered you told me years ago that you loved dogs,’ he said.

  She didn’t know quite what to think of that, but she was too distracted by the animals to care. The pug settled on her lap while the foxhound was darting between Lord Camford and her, sniffing furiously.

  ‘They have a lot of energy,’ he said. ‘I thought you might like to go for a drive, and then we could walk with them near the gardens. I brought the leads.’

  The instinct to refuse came to her lips, but then, it was a lovely spring day. The dogs clearly needed the exercise, and the idea of spending time with them was delightful.

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘But only for a little while.’ She removed her glove and ran her fingers over the pug’s head, smiling at his wrinkled face. He turned towards her touch and licked her palm. She laughed at his antics, and then glanced up at Lord Camford to see what he thought of the animals.

  His eyes seemed greener just now, and he was staring at her with undisguised interest. His dark blond hair framed a strong jaw, and there was a faint stubble of beard on his cheeks. A rush of sensation flooded through her, for he looked as if he wanted to kiss her. Although the thought should have evoked terror, instead, she found herself captivated by his gaze. Her heart beat faster, and she turned away, feeling her cheeks flush.

  The last thing she needed was a man’s interest. She was ruined for marriage, and while Dalton St George was a titled gentleman whom any woman might desire, he was not for her, nor she for him. Were it possible to avoid all men, she would readily do so.

  Lord Camford reached over and pressed a leather lead into her hand. His fingers lingered upon hers for a moment, and once again, she felt the surge of nervous energy rising. ‘For Hubert,’ he said, before he let go of her hand. There was a faint smile on his face, as if he was aware of her discomfort and was trying to reassure her.

  Regina attached the leather lead on to the animal’s collar and then put her glove back on before she lifted the pug into her arms. Hubert was heavier than she’d expected, but he seemed content in her embrace.

  ‘You can put him down if you’d rather,’ Lord Camford said.

  But right now, the dog felt like a shield against her own distracted feelings. She preferred holding him close, and she pressed a kiss upon his furry head.

  Instead of marriage, she decided it would be much nicer to live alone, surrounded by dogs. The thought made her smile.

  Lord Camford was still watching her, but he set the foxhound on the floor, lightly gripping the lead to keep the animal from running away.

  ‘Shall we?’ he asked, offering his arm.

  Regina took a deep breath, wondering what she had agreed to. ‘I’ll ring for my maid to chaperon.’

  * * *

  It took less than an hour before they were in Lord Camford’s carriage. Her maid, Nell, sat on the rumble, and they began driving towards Kensington Gardens. The day was bright and sunny, though there was a slight chill in the spring air. The trees lining the gardens were still bare, though a few brave buds were starting to form.

  All the while, Regina was very aware of Lord Camford’s presence beside her. Although he sat on his side of the phaeton, sometimes his thigh inadvertently bumped against hers. It was disconcerting to feel the rush of embarrassment, and she didn’t know what to think of it. Despite the accidental touch, he made no move to cross the boundary. He knew it made her uncomfortable, and she was grateful that he understood.

  After a time, she grew distracted by the dogs. They licked at each other and tried to play, whimpering with their heads down and their tails in the air. She started to relax, laughing as they frolicked amid her skirts.

  ‘We should stop soon, in case they get overexcited,’ Lord Camford suggested. ‘I wouldn’t want them to soil your gown.’

  She nodded in agreement. ‘I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. They are excited, after all.’ When the pug rolled on to his back, she stifled a laugh.

  The viscount smiled back, but it wasn’t a casual smile between friends. No, it was the smile of a man who liked her a great deal. She sensed it in the warmth of his eyes, and the underlying instinct that if she softened towards him, he would indeed want more from her. This carriage ride might not be a good idea, in light of that.

  But even more concerning was that she didn’t find it easy to freeze out his interest in the same way she could with other gentlemen. Most of the time, she could tell them no, or she could ignore them, and they would go away.

  Lord Camford was different. When she tried to refuse him, he somehow managed to talk her into spending time with him. Even now, she was so very aware of how handsome he was. His dark blond hair had a rakish appearance from the wind. His broad shoulders filled up his coat, and he was a tall man. Despite his clothing, she sensed a wildness beneath it all. Perhaps it was his Highlander heritage. Her instincts warned that this proper English viscount was not as proper as she’d imagined.

  There was far more to
Dalton St George than anyone could guess. It unnerved her to realise that she was not entirely immune to his charm. Right now, she needed to strengthen the invisible walls around her emotions, ensuring that he understood there could never be anything between them.

  She decided to be blunt. ‘What are you doing, Lord Camford? Why did you arrange this carriage ride and the dogs?’

  He paused a moment. ‘Would you consider me a friend, Lady Regina?’

  ‘I’m not certain,’ she answered honestly. ‘I am suspicious of your intentions, to be frank.’

  The viscount drew the horses to a stop, pulling lightly on the reins. His face turned serious, and he said, ‘If we are being frank, then I will tell you that I am worried about you. You’ve changed a great deal from the girl I once knew.’ He gentled his voice. ‘Is everything all right?’

  No, she would never answer that question. Her heartbeat quickened, and she couldn’t bring herself to speak a single word.

  ‘I know that you’ve been unhappy,’ he continued. ‘You’ve not smiled in years, it seems.’

  Because she didn’t have a reason to smile. It felt as if her future had been stolen from her. And though she understood that he was concerned, she could never let down her guard. Even when she was with Lord Camford, whom she trusted, her nerves betrayed her. She tensed, always uneasy of his intentions, though he had never done anything wrong.

  ‘My father has been ill,’ she said at last, fumbling for an excuse. ‘It has been difficult for our family.’

  He nodded in understanding, though his eyes seemed to distrust her answer. ‘I thought the dogs might make you smile,’ he continued. ‘You need a reason to smile, Lady Regina.’

  His eyes warmed, and she felt her shyness returning. Though she knew he would never trespass on their friendship, she recognised the glimmer of interest. But even if she were not betrothed, a man like Lord Camford ought to have an outgoing, friendly young woman who would welcome him into her heart and give him an heir. Not someone broken, like her.

  ‘I’ve made you uncomfortable, and that was not my intention,’ he said lightly. ‘Shall we take these two beasts for a walk?’

  The pug had fallen asleep on her lap and Regina picked him up, cuddling him close. The animal continued to snooze while Lord Camford brought the foxhound down to the pathway. The hound began sniffing at the trail, and Regina smiled at his antics.

  ‘Yours seems to be more awake than mine.’ She walked with the sleeping pug, hardly caring about his weight. The innocent trust of the animal warmed her heart.

  ‘He’s a braw lad.’ He exaggerated a brogue while keeping a firm grip on the lead. She’d noticed over the years that he sometimes slipped into his mother’s ancestry from time to time. Though his father was English, Lord Camford seemed to enjoy behaving with a bit of Scottish flair.

  The foxhound spied a butterfly and tried to chase it. Lord Camford allowed the dog to explore, but he kept his pace slow while they walked.

  ‘I’ve heard that Locharr will arrive any day now,’ Lord Camford said.

  She nodded, though the thought filled her with dread. Not because she disliked the laird, but it was the idea of an impending betrothal. More than anything, she wanted to refuse.

  And yet, her father was set upon the match and would brook no refusal. Every time she spoke of her reluctance, he insisted that it was necessary—now, even more so. Not only because he wanted to see her wedded, but it was for her own protection. He claimed that it was better if she travelled far away from London, and Scotland was perfect.

  He had also sworn a promise to Lachlan’s father that their families would join in marriage. Tavin had been Ned’s best friend, and he intended to honour that vow, regardless of her own hesitance.

  But what bothered her now was why her father had suddenly wanted her to recall the night of her attack. He’d been probing for more information, and he would not say why. If anything, she wanted to put it behind her and never think of it again. But something was troubling her father. She could see the worry nagging at him, and it made her wonder about the reason for it.

  The viscount was waiting for her to speak, but truthfully, she had nothing at all to say. They turned a corner along the walkway, and out of nowhere, a young man came hurtling towards her.

  A flash of fear made her nearly drop the pug. Before she could react, the viscount stepped in front of her and pushed the man away. ‘Have a care and watch where you’re going!’

  Lord Camford kept himself in front of her, and the young man blurted out, ‘I am so terribly sorry. We were just having a footrace, and I didn’t see you.’ He apologised again and beat a hasty retreat. The viscount turned back to her, but Regina’s heart was still racing.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘I’m so sorry he frightened you.’ Though there was no harm done, she could not bring herself to speak.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ Lord Camford offered. He picked up the lead, and thankfully the foxhound had not wandered far. He brought her over to a bench, and she sat gratefully. For a time, he simply sat beside her while she calmed her fears. The pug was scrambling to get down, but she didn’t dare move. Lord Camford took the dog from her and simply waited. He did not try to fill the silence with mindless conversation but let her take the time she needed.

  When she could finally gather her thoughts, she said quietly, ‘Thank you for defending me.’ In truth, she had not expected him to respond so swiftly. Because of it, the young man had not stumbled over her.

  ‘I will always keep you safe, Lady Regina,’ the viscount answered. His voice was quiet and undemanding. In his eyes, she saw not only the promise of protection, but also an undisguised longing.

  And she simply didn’t know what to do about it.

  * * *

  Dalton watched from across the ballroom as Lady Regina pressed her hands against her white-silk gown. He could sense her nerves, for Lachlan MacKinloch, Laird of Locharr, was finally here. Her father had a broad smile on his face, as if his greatest wish was about to come true. It took every shred of control for Dalton to push back his frustration. He had known this moment would come, when Locharr arrived to claim his promised bride.

  But he’d not expected the surge of dark jealousy. There was no reason for it, for no promises had ever been made. He and Lady Regina had been friends, and that was all. It was his own fault for wanting more.

  Instead, he walked to her side, and she turned to look at him. Dalton bowed in greeting and said, ‘You look beautiful, Lady Regina.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she answered softly. Her white gown made her face paler than usual, but it accentuated her blue eyes and fiery red hair. She was like Aphrodite, a benevolent goddess whom he wanted to worship and adore.

  ‘Have you spoken with MacKinloch yet?’ he asked. He wanted to see her reaction when he spoke of the laird, for he didn’t know if she was still considering the betrothal.

  ‘Not yet.’

  Again, her voice was so quiet, almost fearful. He knew he ought to leave her, to let her meet her future husband alone. But it felt as if he were leaving her among the wolves. So many men and women were staring at her—the men with knowing gazes and the women with bitter jealousy. The need to protect her, to shield her from gossip, overcame all common sense.

  ‘Would you care to dance?’ he asked. It would grant her a distraction, and it gave him the chance to hold her hands and offer a silent reassurance.

  ‘No, thank you.’ Her voice remained cool, like ice. He could understand why other men would view her as frigid, but he knew the truth. It was fear beneath those deep blue eyes. Fear of what, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to leave her side.

  Before he could speak, he heard a slight buzz of conversation, and the crowds of people parted. Beside him, Lady Regina seemed to shrink back in alarm. There was no mistaking the appearance of Lachlan MacKinloch, though he was wearing English
attire instead of his Scottish tartan. His long hair was tied back, and he stared at the crowd until at last he saw her.

  Dalton eyed his friend, wondering what exactly would happen. Locharr wasn’t known for being a man of ceremony, and he cared little for manners. But it did seem that he was trying to blend in somewhat.

  Regina, in contrast, looked as if she wanted to flee. Her blush suffused her face, and though he ought to leave her alone with her intended, something told him to remain here. She appeared almost grateful by his presence.

  ‘Lady Regina,’ the laird greeted her. ‘It has been many years, has it no’? Do you remember me at all?’

  She nodded but said nothing. When Dalton studied her surreptitiously, he noticed how she was gripping her gloved fingers together. She appeared vastly uncomfortable, and he didn’t know what he could do or say to help her.

  Lachlan eyed him with a genuine smile, though it held a wariness. ‘I see you’ve been keeping the lady company, Camford.’

  What are you up to? his gaze seemed to ask.

  ‘Protecting her from the blackguards and rakes.’ Dalton gave a mischievous smile to ease the tension. ‘Though some might put me in that category.’

  The laird replied, ‘If you bother her, Camford, I’ll skin your hide and leave it for the crows.’ Although his words were teasing, there was a note of warning in them.

  Dalton only shrugged as if he didn’t care. Lady Regina knew he would never harm her, and he would not make demands of her.

  She was still pale, and Locharr cleared his throat. ‘I suppose that wasna a very polite thing to say. I beg your pardon, Lady Regina.’

  Before she could answer, their hostess, the Duchess of Worthingstone, arrived. Dalton and Locharr both bowed in greeting to Her Grace while Lady Regina sank into a deep curtsy.

  ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ Her Grace asked the laird. Dalton knew that Locharr was staying with the duchess and duke within their household. The ball had been arranged to give him the chance to see Lady Regina again.