by Lydia Dare
“A surprise?” the duchess gasped as she laid a hand on her chest. Her flesh jiggled at the edge of her bodice. “For me?”
He swung his gaze to Sorcha’s bodice. Definitely a better view. In fact, it was one he couldn’t take his eyes off.
“Mr. MacQuarrie?” the duchess prompted.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Alec said with a small bow, ripping his gaze from Sorcha’s person. “If I told you, the surprise would be ruined.”
The shrewd old woman’s eyes narrowed. Then she giggled. That old matriarch giggled like a girl still in the schoolroom. “I do so love a surprise.” She clapped her hands together with glee. “May I have just a hint?” She held her fingers up with about an inch of space between them and looked at him as though he’d hung the moon and stars.
“Grandmamma,” the little blonde said. She had a name.
But Alec would be damned if he could remember it. Not with Sorcha standing directly beside her. “Let the man have his fun. It appears as though he and Miss Ferguson have been in one another’s pockets for quite some time.”
“Young man, if I find you anywhere near Miss Ferguson’s pockets, I will—” the duchess began.
“Yer Grace!” Sorcha protested. “He has never been anywhere near my pockets. I can assure you it’s the furthest thing from his mind.”
But it wasn’t, though he felt more comfortable keeping that to himself.
The duchess held up one hand to stop Sorcha’s diatribe.
“If I find you anywhere near Miss Ferguson’s pockets…” she said as she threaded her arm through his and started down the corridor, leading him along. The duchess dropped her voice down to a conciliatory whisper. “…I will be most delighted.”
Good God. Now he had Sorcha to watch after and a surprise for the duchess to create out of thin air. If that wasn’t bad enough, Her Grace had him thinking lascivious thoughts. And she clearly wasn’t at all ashamed for having placed them in his mind.
The duchess reached for his lapel. “Where did you get that flower, Mr. MacQuarrie?” she asked. “It’s quite remarkable.”
He wasn’t wearing a flower. Well, he hadn’t been a few minutes earlier. He glanced down at his jacket to find the happiest white orchid peeking out of his buttonhole. Alec looked back over his shoulder to find Sorcha grinning at him. That little witch was trouble. Beautiful, beguiling trouble.
Chapter Two
“Why were you quarreling with Mr. MacQuarrie?” Maddie asked as a groom helped her onto her sidesaddle.
Sorcha, already atop her spirited chestnut, tossed her head back to look at the clouds as though she hadn’t heard her friend’s question and let the sun warm her skin. After all, what was she to say? Well, the irritable vampyre doesn’t care for werewolves since one stole the love of his life last year. Hardly. She might as well ride for London and admit herself to Bedlam. She lowered her head, smoothed her hand over her horse’s neck, and cooed to the animal.
“There you are, milady.” The groom took a step backward and smiled at Maddie. “Don’t go too far. You know how Her Grace worries.”
“Thank you, Johnny.” Maddie urged her bay closer to Sorcha. “But there’s no need for concern. Miss Ferguson and I will be careful.”
The lad nodded and then started back for the stables.
Maddie’s green eyes twinkled when they landed on Sorcha. “I know you heard me. Am I to take from your silence that you don’t wish to discuss your handsome neighbor?”
Sorcha looked down at her reins and shook her head. “It was nothin’ important, Maddie. Mr. MacQuarrie and I simply doona see eye ta eye about the Marquess of Eynsford.”
That, at least, was the truth.
Despite Alec’s assertion that she had lost her mind, Sorcha felt a tug of guilt in her heart. She hadn’t meant to blurt out Eynsford’s name, and she couldn’t quite forget the look of pure torture that had flashed across Alec’s face when the name left her lips. If she could have snatched the words back, she would have done so. Poor Alec had been devastated when Cait chose Eynsford over him.
They started toward the west side of the property at a slow trot, and Maddie sent Sorcha a sidelong glance. “Your neighbor is in good company then. Grandmamma is a bit wary of the marquess as well. He was quite estranged from his father before the old man’s passing. Did you know?”
Yes, Sorcha was quite aware of Eynsford’s rift with his father, or at least the man all of society believed to be his father; but that was neither here nor there. She shrugged her response. “Many men choose paths their fathers do not agree with.”
Maddie agreed with a nod. “True. Papa has been quite put out with Nathaniel and Robert most of their lives. What about your Mr. MacQuarrie?”
“My Mr. MacQuarrie?” Sorcha somehow managed to keep from tumbling from her seat. She’d never thought of Alec in those terms before.
Maddie giggled. “Does he follow his father’s path? Or is he more the rebellious sort like my brothers?”
She’d heard quite the scandalous tales about the Earl of Bexley and Lord Robert Hayburn ever since she’d befriended Maddie, always in very hushed tones, however, to keep anyone else from hearing. Their exploits certainly didn’t sound like Alec, at least not the man she’d once known. “He always pleased his father who, alas, has since passed on,” Sorcha replied.
“Hmm,” Maddie mused. “I simply cannot understand his arrival at Castle Hythe.”
What was there to understand? Hadn’t the duchess invited more than a dozen eligible gentlemen for Maddie to meet? “For ye ta become acquainted with, I’m certain.”
“No.” Maddie shook her head. “He’s not one of those gentlemen.”
Her friend had Sorcha’s complete attention. “Why do ye say that?”
Maddie shrugged as though the answer was clear.
“Because, you goose, he’s not titled.”
Not titled? That was hardly a deterrent as far as Alec was concerned. Sorcha gaped at her friend. “I assure ye, his fortune is one of the grandest in all of Scotland.” Not to mention he was one of the most handsome men of Sorcha’s acquaintance. And kind and generous.
Maddie certainly shouldn’t discount him so easily simply because of his lack of a title. No, the better reason to discount Alec would be that he was incapable of loving anyone other than Cait. But most marriages weren’t love matches, and he was admirable in every other way, even for a vampyre.
Maddie grinned. “I’m sure it is, Sorcha. That’s not what I meant. It’s only that Grandmamma has been adamant that I’ll marry a peer. All the others either already possess their titles or are their fathers’ heirs apparent.”
Sorcha hadn’t realized that. How had that fact escaped her? She frowned. “Well, I doona ken then, Maddie. Perhaps Mr. MacQuarrie has other business with yer grandmother.”
“Perhaps,” her friend agreed, and then she cocked her head to one side as if she was contemplating something.
“He doesn’t sound Scottish.”
Sorcha shrugged. “Doona let him hear ye say that.” At Maddie’s confused expression, Sorcha took pity on her.
“Alec is English educated,” she explained. “He left Edinburgh at twelve, but he returned home often enough.”
“Oh.” Maddie nodded. “I suppose that explains it.” Then she pointed at a large tree off in the distance. “Race you to that oak over there.”
Sorcha agreed with a nod, but her mind was still on their conversation and her heart simply wasn’t in the race. She followed in her friend’s wake, reaching the specified tree well after Maddie had already arrived. Why had Alec been invited to Castle Hythe? The mystery would remain, as she couldn’t very well ask the duchess, but she’d keep her eyes open and see if she couldn’t learn the truth for herself.
*
“She’s a delightful chit, isn’t she?” Nathaniel Hayburn, the Earl of Bexley, broke into Alec’s thoughts as he watched from the library window while Sorcha and her friend rode across the meadow.
“Aye
,” Alec replied, though he wasn’t certain which she they were discussing. He stepped away from his position near the window and sauntered toward the middle of the room where the Englishman had dropped into an overstuffed leather chair.
Bexley grinned roguishly. “But Grandmother has threatened to sever both my hands if I even consider touching her.”
So the earl wasn’t discussing his sister then. Alec managed not to frown at the dissolute nobleman. He knew Bexley more by reputation than from sight, but what he did know was more than enough to make Alec certain the earl was not the man for innocent, enchanting Sorcha. Damn if she didn’t need a keeper. If it wasn’t because of her inane fascination with Lycans, then it was due to debauched Englishmen’s fascination with her, not that he could blame the man. She was delightful.
“Your grandmother is a formidable woman. I certainly wouldn’t want to cross her.” Thank God the old woman had taken Sorcha under her wing, if for no other reason than to keep Bexley at bay.
The earl laughed. “You have the right of it, MacQuarrie. And she does hold the purse strings. Even Father is terrified of angering her.” Bexley rested his head against the back of the chair. “So I shall endeavor to find other pursuits to occupy my time in godforsaken Kent.”
“You could always return to Town,” Alec suggested. The miles between London and Castle Hythe would keep Sorcha safe from at least one depraved Englishman, just in case the fear of his grandmother wore off or the lure of the little witch proved too tempting.
Bexley shook his head. “I’ve been ordered here for the duration of this party. To make certain no one makes improper advances toward Madeline.”
At least the man cared about his sister’s virtue. That was something, Alec supposed. He dropped into a seat across from the earl. “So what pursuits do you have in mind, Bexley?”
“Well,” the man sighed, “tomorrow evening there’s a ball. But tonight I shall have to make my own fun. I plan to head into the village with Radbourne. He always manages to find the most willing chits. Care to join us?”
Bexley and Radbourne? The combination was nauseating. Still, Alec did need to feed and barmaids were generally easy marks. After a little enchantment, the women wouldn’t even remember their encounter. Then the rest of Bexley’s words hit him. “Did you say ‘ball’?”
The earl grimaced. “Unfortunately. All the guests and local gentry. Did Grandmother not tell you?”
No, Her Grace had failed to mention the event. All the guests and local gentry. Alec’s stomach twisted. The odds that Cait, Eynsford, and his blasted pack would be present were not in Alec’s favor. “Radbourne is attending, I assume?”
“Everyone at The Park.”
Bloody perfect. Alec groaned. He’d have to see Cait.
Well, he didn’t have to see her. He could skip the blasted ball, but in doing so, he’d be throwing Sorcha to the Lycans —or rather she’d throw herself at them and he wouldn’t be around to prevent her foolishness. If only he could talk her into packing her trunk and heading home, he wouldn’t have to stay in Kent himself. Though the likelihood of that seemed nonexistent.
“You all right, MacQuarrie?” Bexley asked, sliding forward in his chair.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Alec hedged. Who wouldn’t want to see the girl of his dreams happily married to a slobbering beast?
The earl shrugged, looking less concerned, and settled back against his seat. “So, up for it?”
“Up for what?”
The man scoffed as though speaking to Alec was a chore. “For our jaunt into the village this evening.”
As long as Bexley, Radbourne, and his brothers were headed away from the castle, Alec wouldn’t have to watch over Sorcha. And by the end of the evening he would be in need of sustenance. Though the company was not of his choosing, he didn’t have many choices here at Castle Hythe. He could always entice a maid at the castle, but he hated doing so. It was always a bit precarious to partake where he slept. Someone could overhear or see something.
Alec raked a hand through his hair. “Oh, of course. Into the village. Sounds amusing.” About as amusing as catching the plague.
*
Sorcha flopped onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling.
She’d waited the entire day for some sort of entertainment.
Not that Her Grace wasn’t entertaining in her own right. But Sorcha had hoped for more. Alec had slunk away as soon as he had disentangled himself from the duchess’ grasp.
And Maddie had had to suffer more dress fittings for the upcoming social events. Even Cait had cried off, stating she was too tired for a visit in the note she sent back to Sorcha. And not a single Lycan had made an appearance.
How on earth was she to catch a beast of her very own if she couldn’t even be in the same room with one?
Sorcha was nearly certain the duchess had cards or charades planned for the night’s activities. Mindless pursuits were better than no pursuits, she thought with a heavy sigh. But then the jingle of tack outside caught her attention. She moved quickly to her window and pushed aside the heavy drapes. Three men sat astride prancing horses that danced in their places, appearing to be nearly as anxious to get moving as the gentlemen were. Sorcha shoved the window open, and the crisp country air filtered into her chambers.
One of the men reached into his pocket, pulled out his watch fob, and then glanced up at the rising moon.
Sorcha’s breath caught in her throat. After waiting more than a sennight, the objects of her desire had finally arrived.
“Bexley had better hurry up, or we’ll head into Folkestone without him,” Archer Hadley, Viscount Radbourne, complained.
Sorcha nearly sighed. All three of the Lycans were directly beneath her window. How wonderfully fortuitous.
Radbourne was just as handsome as he’d been the previous spring at Rhiannon’s wedding.
“You could be a gentleman, Archer. You know, go to the door and request his presence like any other man of good breeding would do,” one of his twin brothers teased. If they’d just look up, she could tell them apart. Weston had a very dashing scar across his cheek, while Grayson was unmarred.
“And ruin my good reputation?” the viscount asked. “It took too many years to cultivate the image I have.”
“He’s right.” The other twin laughed. “No one would expect the dissolute Lord Radbourne to do anything gentlemanly.”
“Did someone take your name in vain, Radbourne?” A tall man sauntered from the castle.
Hmm. Sorcha had had no idea that Maddie’s oldest brother was acquainted with the Hadley men. That was most useful information.
Lord Bexley strode toward the wolfish trio who still sat atop their horses. The earl’s groom tossed him the reins to his own horse. “Heaven forbid anyone should make such an egregious error as to call Archer Hadley a gentleman,” Bexley joked merrily as he mounted.
“Who’s the extra horse for?” Lord Radbourne asked. “Is Robert in residence?”
Bexley shook his head. “My brother is still hiding somewhere in Yorkshire. No, I’ve asked Mr. MacQuarrie to join us. Hope you don’t mind,” he said glancing toward the door. “He should be here in a moment.” Bexley turned his gaze back at the Hadley men. “You are acquainted with MacQuarrie, aren’t you?”
“Indeed,” Lord Radbourne grumbled, appearing less than pleased by the addition to their party.
“Had anyone told me this night had gone to the dogs, I’d have probably cried off,” Sorcha heard Alec reply as his long legs ate up the distance from the main door to where his horse stood saddled and ready for him. She fought the grin that pulled at the corners of her lips. Gone to the dogs.
She snorted a little as she covered a giggle with her hand.
Alec took the reins and hoisted himself atop the beautiful beast as smoothly as a cavalry officer. “Shall we?” he asked.
Just then, Lord Radbourne must have noticed her as she hung so indecorously out the window, trying to capture their every word, because
he doffed his hat and bowed his head toward her. “Miss Ferguson,” he called, which had everyone’s head turning in her direction. It was much too late to duck behind the curtain at this point. So, instead, she simply waved at the collection of men beneath her window.
“Such a vision of loveliness, Miss Ferguson. Should I stay and be your companion for the evening?” Lord Radbourne asked. Not even a hint of a smile crossed his lips. He simply regarded her stoically, waiting for her response.
She opened her mouth to reply, but Alec spoke first.
“Miss Ferguson can do much better than the company of mutts like you.”
“Beg your pardon, MacQuarrie,” Weston Hadley replied, fingering the scar on his cheek. “Unless you’d like to discuss your own bloody habits, I’d suggest you leave ours in good company where they belong.”
Sorcha noticed the use of the word “bloody,” and Alec must have as well, because he simply swung his mount around and headed down the lane.
“Until next time, Miss Ferguson.” Lord Radbourne touched the brim of his beaver hat in farewell and followed Alec down the drive.
Sorcha could hardly believe her luck. Finally, she’d spotted her coveted Lycans… But they were moving as far and as fast away from her as they could. She wouldn’t have it. Her destiny lay with one of those Lycans; she just knew it.
After all, Cait and Elspeth had both married beasts of that variety and they were gloriously happy. The Hadley men were as close to perfection as Sorcha was going to get.
She jumped to her feet, searching everywhere for her dark cloak. She finally located it in one of her many trunks and tossed it over her arm. She smoothed her dress in front of the looking glass and found her appearance to be quite normal.
They were headed to Folkestone, according to Lord Radbourne. She and Maddie had gone into the village the previous afternoon. It was fairly close, all things considered.
If only she had some clue as to their ultimate destination once they reached the village, she’d know how to dress.