Georgiana’s lips thinned yet more. “I wish I’d never invited her.”
“She isn’t up to your usual standards. Not at all!”
Alexander had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something cutting, which would only bring more wrath on Caitlyn’s unsuspecting head. “Lady Kinloss, I heard that your dog went missing for a time today.”
“Oh my! I was so worried! He was gone for almost an hour!”
“Where was he?”
“I don’t know, but he lost his bow and he’s been acting most strange since he returned.”
“How so?”
“Why he licked the housemaid’s hand when she poured him a bowl of milk!”
“Astonishing.”
“Yes, and she told me that she saw him making up to your valet in the kitchen. Usually Muffin doesn’t like men. I find it most peculiar.”
“So do I.”
Georgiana sniffed. “Muffin may be turning into a lapdog. If he needs lessons, we can ask Dervishton. He had a head start in that area.”
Lady Kinloss giggled. “Or Lord Falkland! Dervishton isn’t the only one caught in Miss Hurst’s net.”
Alexander knew Georgiana was watching him closely to see his reaction, so he wisely hid his irritation at their pettiness. He might fault Caitlyn for many things, but not once had he seen her encourage either Falkland or Dervishton. The problem lay more in the direction of what she didn’t do. She didn’t demand they leave her be, nor would she warn them off unless they were drastically out of line.
Lord Dingwall’s voice drifted to their end of the table. Alexander winced as the man, all in a tone of jocular fun, made several critical comments about the house and the food. Alexander was certain his intent was to make Georgiana squirm with anger, and she did.
Alexander was relieved when dinner was finally over. The women walked to the grand salon, while the gentlemen retired to the library for a glass of port.
Once Dingwall was out from under the watchful eyes of the ladies, he began to tell raucous stories about his skirmishes with the duchess, no doubt embellishing them to make himself appear wittier. Within minutes, he had Dervishton, Falkland, and Caithness in stitches.
If Georgiana got wind of this, she was bound to be even more furious.
Eventually, the group began to mingle. Roxburge was speaking animatedly to Caithness about the benefits of bathing in various hot springs, while Dervishton, Treymont, and Falkland were exchanging hunting stories and discussing which area of the local countryside was best for fox.
Dingwall downed yet another glass of port, smacked his lips noisily, and belched, then gave a blissful smile. “Pardon.”
“Would you like some more?” Alexander asked.
Dingwall’s glass was in the air in a trice. “Dinna mind if I do.”
Alexander nodded to a footman, who hurried forward to refill the glass.
Dingwall took another appreciative drink and sighed. “Ah, now. That’s the best port I’ve ever had.”
“It is excellent. So tell me, Dingwall, what magic did Miss Hurst perform to get you here?”
The old man grinned, his face wreathed in creases. “You know Miss Hurst?”
“Yes.”
“You wouldn’t be courting her, would you? I’ve looked at these other jackanapes, and they don’t seem man enough to handle a woman like that.”
Alexander was growing more intrigued by the second. “Did she threaten you? Does she have some sort of damaging information? Or did she bring a pistol?”
Dingwall gave a short laugh. “She might have. There’s no telling what was in that basket of hers. She kept my horse from biting her by throwing apples at its hooves. It was so busy munching them that it couldn’t munch her.”
Alexander had to admit that was brilliant.
“And to still the dogs, she had a dozen pig ribs that she threw all of the way on the other side of the road. Off the dogs went, leaving the front door unguarded.”
“That was good planning.” There had been more to Caitlyn’s basket than Alexander had realized.
“You don’t know the half of it. I was under siege! And by a mere slip of a girl, accompanied by a giant of a woman with hair in places she shouldn’t have. The giant had the nerve to tell me she’d steal my butler if I didn’t give the wee lass a listen.”
“I take it you listened.”
The old man slapped his thigh and laughed. “Damn right, I did. I had to. That butler’s worth his weight in gold—and if you knew how heavy he was, you’d appreciate just what that means.”
“So tell me, what did Miss Hurst say?”
“She dinna beat about the bushes. She came right out and told me she knew I was no good.”
“What?”
“That’s what I thought, too. Little mouthy slip of a girl! What could she know? But then she looked me right in the eyes and said, ‘I know a way you can turn the Duchess of Roxburge’s hair turn white this very evening.’”
Alexander had to smile. “How could you resist such a temptation?”
Dingwall chortled. “I couldna! And let me tell you, it’s been worth it and more. I’ve never seen the duchess so angry, even when I stole her poodle!”
Damn, Caitlyn was an unexpectedly tough opponent. She was resourceful, creative, and capable of getting any number of people to dance to her tune. “I’ve heard about that poodle.”
Dingwall finished his port. “Good dog, that. Wouldn’t give him back now if I could. Sleeps on the foot of my bed. I changed his name from Graceful to Butch, though.” The old man snorted. “It’s a good thing I took him; that stupid name would have ruined him.”
Dingwall began to reminisce about his past dogs, Alexander pretended to listen, but inside he marveled at how Caitlyn had met her challenge. He was beginning to realize that no matter what task he set her to, she would find a way to make it happen.
A surge of admiration warmed him. By God, she was an unusual woman. He couldn’t imagine ever getting bored with her even if he spent his entire life with her.
Then icy cold gripped his throat. My entire life? What am I thinking? She is beautiful, intelligent, and unique, but she’s also far more than a dozen years younger than I am.
A whispered voice deep inside him asked, So? There are couples who have that many years between them and more.
That was true. Such as Georgiana and Roxburge. Alexander turned to look at the duke, who was now asleep in his chair, his chin to his chest, drool dampening his cravat. Alexander thought of the distaste in Georgiana’s eyes whenever she spoke of her husband, and his heart tightened with determination. If he ever took a wife, he’d make certain she’d never look at him with such disrespect.
Perhaps it was that, more than anything else, that had made his friend Charles think that taking his life was the only possible solution for his predicament. When a man lost his pride, little else was left.
Alexander hardened his heart. Whatever future Caitlyn Hurst had, it was not with him. As soon as he could, he excused himself and made his way to the terrace. The cool night air whipped across the stone flag way, rustling the shrubbery and murmuring through the trees, stirring up the scents of pine and crushed grass. He rammed his hands into his pockets, lifted his head, and pulled deep, cleansing breaths of cold air into his lungs. The feeling of being pressed slowly subsided, and in its place was an odd emptiness, as if he’d left something behind, but didn’t know what.
What is wrong with me? Damned silliness. He turned on his heel and reentered the library. Caitlyn Hurst was not for him, and that was the way it would always be.
“Georgiana, you must be careful,” Diane said.
“I’m done with that hoyden and her tricks! She brought Dingwall into my house, that—”
“Yes, yes,” Diane said hastily, glancing across the room where Caitlyn Hurst sat at a pianoforte talking to Miss Ogilvie, the two laughing merrily. “She brought him here, but you did say she might.”
“I never said a word to that
—that—” Georgiana’s fingers curled into the palms of her hands, her nails biting into the skin. “Alexander is to blame for this! I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true: MacLean wants the girl.” The words tasted like ash on her tongue. MacLean belonged to her, not some ill-bred country miss.
Diane gave a nervous laugh. “Do you really think MacLean wants her?”
“I’m sure of it. I’ve seen the way he looks at her.”
“He hasn’t been pursuing her like Dervishton.”
“Dervishton is merely playing. His finances require him to find himself a wealthy wife or, barring that, a wealthy patroness who will pay for his services.”
“Really? I had no idea!”
“Why did you think I’d invited him?”
“He seemed interested in you until—” Diane sent Georgiana a hurried gaze. “I mean, he’s quite a handsome man, too, though not as handsome as MacLean.”
Yes, Georgiana owed Caitlyn for the loss of Dervishton’s attentions, as well. Nothing about this house party had played out the way she’d wished.
“What do you intend to do?” Diane asked.
“I shall assist MacLean in his original game and ruin Caitlyn Hurst.”
“How? You can’t humiliate her in public; she’s made friends. The marquis and his wife think she’s charming. It would cause talk and leave you looking far worse than she.”
Georgiana’s stomach clenched at the thought. She’d fought hard to earn her position and keep it. She hadn’t allowed anyone close enough to discover her secrets … until Alexander MacLean.
But now she’d lost him, and to whom? A naïve vicar’s daughter. Georgiana would get rid of Caitlyn Hurst if it was the last thing she did, but not at the cost of her own position. She’d die before she gave that up. “I’ll think of something,” she told Diane, and she would.
She wasn’t the normal society woman, bound by conventionality. Whether he knew it or not, Alexander MacLean was hers and no one else’s. He was just lost for a moment, blinded by the tricks of a country bumpkin whose blood was no bluer than Georgiana’s.
“Diane, watch the door. The men will return soon, but I need to have a word with our young guest first.”
“What are you going to say?”
“Enough. Now watch the door, and let me know when the gentlemen return.” With that, Georgiana made her way across the grand salon until she reached the pianoforte. Fortunately, Miss Ogilvie had just left to fetch another glass of sherry and Caitlyn was alone.
Georgiana leaned over the pianoforte. “I daresay you think you’ve accomplished quite a feat.”
Caitlyn looked up from where she’d been idly playing a children’s song. “I hardly think playing ‘Five Currant Buns’ qualifies as a ‘feat,’ Your Grace. Had I been playing ‘See-Saw, Margery Daw,’ I would accept your accolade with pleasure.”
Georgiana curled her lip. “My, aren’t you full of good humor.”
A look of caution entered Caitlyn’s face. “Your Grace, is … is something wrong?”
“No. I was just feeling sorry for you, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“Because when you leave us here at Balloch Castle, you’ll have to return to”—Georgiana waved a hand—“wherever you came from.”
Caitlyn’s face tightened but she answered pleasantly, “I’m from Wythburn Vicarage.”
“It’s quite sad, really, that you must go back at all. I know it’ll be very difficult for you. But that is the problem with charity, isn’t it? Eventually the project must return from whence it came.”
“I look forward to going home,” Caitlyn returned evenly, though her color was high and her fingers were curled into claws over the pianoforte. “I’m sure I’ll find it refreshing—a breath of fresh air after so much staleness.”
Georgiana stiffened, fury slicing through her veins and racing to her head. She wanted to throttle the girl, to close her hands around her neck and twist until she screamed. Instead, she said in a steady enough voice, “Stale? Shall I have a footman open a window? I daresay that’s another thing you won’t have—footmen and such. Why, you’ll undoubtedly be scrubbing your own crockery, won’t you?”
Caitlyn’s eyes flashed, and Georgiana continued, “I allowed you in this house for one reason and one reason only: because Alexander wished to humiliate you.”
“I know. He’s told me. But I think he may have changed his mind.”
It took every ounce of will that Georgiana possessed to force her stiff cheeks to relax into a smile. “You poor child, is that what you really think? That he’s changed his mind?”
Uncertainty flashed through the brown eyes. “I think he has, yes.”
Georgiana laughed, fed by the girl’s uncertainty. “My dear, you are naïve, aren’t you? Alexander has been playing you for a fool, and he’s enjoyed every moment of it. Come the final day, he will discredit you just as he planned. Why, just last night when we were in bed—” She paused and laughed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter if you know he and I share a bed on occasion.”
“I had heard,” the girl said, her chin high, her face suspiciously pale.
“Well, last night he was laughing about Lord Dingwall and how you came to invite him here.”
Caitlyn frowned. “He explained that to you?”
So there is something there! “Of course he did. He tells me everything.”
The girl’s face flamed red. “Everything?”
“Naturally.” Georgiana chuckled. “I must say, you’ve given us quite a bit of amusement.”
Caitlyn blindly locked her gaze on the music on the pianoforte. Her hands were curled into fists in her lap, her back ramrod straight, her jaw tight. Every word the duchess uttered seared like a burn.
“Oh, look,” the duchess purred. “There he is now. Excuse me, Miss Hurst. I’m wanted elsewhere.”
Caitlyn forced her fingers to uncurl, and began to play another simple piece. Could it be true? Had Alexander agreed to her tasks merely because he wished to mock her to his lover? Was she being made a fool of?
Anger trembled through her. She’d ask Alexander, though she feared the truth. The only way the duchess could know about the tasks was if Alexander had mentioned them to her.
Not five minutes ago, she’d been ecstatic. Not only had she convinced Dingwall to visit, she’d also had a brainstorm in the carriage and had thought of the perfect task to finally break MacLean. She’d been abuzz with good spirits, but a few minutes with the duchess had left her angry and upset.
Arguing loudly, Dervishton and Falkland made their way to her side. She played a few more ditties and was relieved when Caithness brought Sally over and Caitlyn could beg her to take her place. Sally agreed with alacrity, and soon the room was filled with a perfectly played Italian aria.
Caitlyn looked for Alexander and found him standing to one side of the fireplace, his head bent to catch Georgiana’s words, his expression intense.
Caitlyn had to bite her lip to keep from marching up to them and . . . What could she do? A slap would be too kind, a kick too quick, and a verbal punching too tame. For the first time in her life, she wanted to actually hurt another person.
The realization cooled her blood. As impulsive as her nature was at times, she’d never condoned violence. Yet she couldn’t quell the furor that raced through her veins. Was it because Georgiana had been so snide? Or was it something more? Something about MacLean that made her want more?
His head was bent low so he could hear Georgiana and a lock of hair had fallen over his brow. As Caitlyn watched, he looked up and met her gaze.
A deep warmth began in the pit of her stomach and spiraled through her. It was as if, with that one look, he’d touched her, bared skin to bared skin.
Caitlyn’s breath came harsh and ragged, her nipples peaked, and a deep ache built from her core. God, she wanted him. Memories of their passion in the library flooded her, sending heated longing through her.
Her desperate need must have shown in he
r eyes, for MacLean’s gaze heated as well and his expression grew hungry. She took a step toward him and his gaze suddenly narrowed, the heat leaving his face in an instant.
She hesitated, and his lids slid down to shield his gaze, a cold, almost haughty expression appeared on his face. He said something and Georgiana looked over her shoulder and laughed.
Caitlyn stiffened with hot embarrassment. She was a mass of confused, uncomfortable feelings and thoughts. She had to bite her lip to halt the tears that threatened. Should she flee and retire to her bedchamber before the tears fell?
But before she could move, MacLean excused himself from Georgiana’s side and walked toward Caitlyn.
Good God, he’s coming here! What does he want? Perhaps now is the time I should ask him why he broke the rules of our agreement? But … do I really want to know?
He bowed impersonally when he reached her.
Something has changed; I can feel it. Her jaw tight, she managed a curtsy. When she straightened, he was regarding her with all the warmth of a marble slab.
“I was surprised you managed to bring Dingwall to dinner.”
“I told you I’d do it. Did you get the bow from Muffin?”
“Of course. It’s in my room. I’ll bring it down to breakfast tomorrow.”
Every word was chilled, sharp. Feeling as if a large stone were lodged in her chest, she managed a faint smile. “Very well. Did you … have any trouble?”
He shrugged. “Of course not. It’s just a little dog, after all.”
Blast it! That should have been difficult.
As if he could hear her thoughts, he gave her a cold smile. “I’m fortunate in that my valet seems to be a dog hypnotist of some sort.”
“That’s an unfair advantage.”
“When you had the entire female staff at your beck and call? I hardly think so.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her cooly. “We’ve one more task, and I have my challenge at the ready. Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Proceed, then.”
“In the story, the hero donned a costume and slipped into a dinner party to procure a magic harp.”
The Laird Who Loved Me Page 21