“That would be a first.” He stepped further into the room, frowning just a bit. “Are ye feeling yerself?”
Ellie didn’t know what she felt, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t herself. “I’m fine. Thank ye for asking.”
“Hmm.” He dropped onto a divan not far from her desk. “Then perhaps ye’d like to tell me why ye dragged me from the Ridgemonts’ last night as though the devil was chasing after ye?”
Not in a million years. Besides, she wasn’t running from the devil, she was running from her own foolish actions. The faster she fled the Ridgemonts’, the faster she could pretend the entire night had never happened.
Her brother’s brow lifted a bit arrogantly. “How about where ye disappeared to, then?”
When she’d gone in search of Peasemore, when Griff had found her. Heaven help her if Ian ever discovered any of that. She feigned her most innocent smile for her brother and said, “I have no idea what ye mean.”
“I think ye know very well what I mean.”
And though she knew exactly what he meant, she’d never admit as much to anyone. Ever. So she simply blinked at him as though English wasn’t her native tongue.
“And ye seemed rather taken with Griffin Reid last night too.” Ian crossed the floor to stand right before her. “I admit to being a bit surprised by that.”
Ellie’s cheeks stung from embarrassment. She could only pray Ian didn’t notice how red they must be, but from his close proximity, she didn’t know how he could miss her blush. “And ye still seem rather put out with him. I’m a bit surprised by that too,” she said, hoping to distract him from his line of questioning as she folded the foolscap in her hand. “Don’t ye think it’s time ye told me what is going on between the two of ye?”
Ian heaved a sigh as he dropped into the chintz chair across from her. “He hasn’t said anything to ye?”
When he wasn’t kissing her, he said very little if it wasn’t some sort of admonishment. “He’s said a number of things. What exactly are ye referring to?” she asked.
“Never mind.” Ian shook his head as though confident that Ellie knew nothing. Which was exactly what she did know. Nothing. Drat him.
“Ian!” she complained. “I’ve never known ye to keep secrets. What is going on between the two of ye? Has he done something awful?” If Griff had done something horrid, it might make it easier not to fall for him. And she so didn’t want to fall for him. Griffin Reid could never give her the life she wanted, and one needed to remain practical and level-headed when planning one’s future.
“He’s a damned war hero, Ellie. Perhaps ye might have heard.”
Well, there was no reason to be cross with her. She hadn’t done anything except ask a few questions that anyone else would ask if they were in her position. She rose from her seat and stuffed her bit of foolscap into her pocket and said, “When ye can speak to me civilly, Ian, I might feel inclined to continue this conversation.”
Then she strode from the room and into the hallway. She ought to go practice her “noise”. That would keep him away from her the rest of the afternoon. Irritating Scot. In fact, that was the perfect solution to avoiding her brother.
“I am sorry, sir.” The MacLaren’s very English butler eyed Griffin as though he was some sort of gutter trash who’d stumbled onto the front stoop. “Lady Elspeth isn’t in this morning.”
The devil if she wasn’t. Griff folded his arms across his chest and glared at the servant, perfectly willing to browbeat the man into letting him see Ellie if he had to. Ian had suggested Griff court Ellie until the end of the season, but now he was barring Griff entrance to MacLaren House? Griff shouldn’t have been surprised. This sort of trickery was just like a MacLaren. That must have been why Ian spirited Ellie from the Ridgemonts’ last night before Griff could return to the ballroom. If that duplicitous earl thought he could keep Ellie from him indefinitely, he was in for quite the surprise.
Griff ought to abscond with Ellie all the way back home and marry her as soon as they crossed the border. Ian would never keep her from him then. Of course, he had to be afforded the chance to see Ellie in order to for them to escape England together.
But then a thought popped in his head, the answer to his problem, something Lady Astwick had said the night before. “And what about Lady Ericht? Is she available this morning?”
Lady Ericht, after all, hadn’t been born into the MacLaren family, but the Montgomerys’. She might very well be the only trustworthy person living under this particular roof.
“Lady Ericht?” the butler echoed, a frown marring his English face as though the possibility that Griff might have asked for the countess had never crossed his mind…or rather his employer’s orders until now.
“Aye. The countess,” Griff replied as though the man was a dunce. He knew very well who Lady Ericht was, but Ian must not have barred Griff from visiting his mother, and the butler wasn’t certain what to do. Thank heavens Lady Astwick had mentioned the countess the night before. She might very well be his ticket into MacLaren House.
“Well,” the butler stuttered, “I—uh—suppose I’ll see if her ladyship is in. If you’ll just wait out there...” He began to shut the front door in Griff’s face.
But Griff wasn’t about to be thwarted by an English butler of all the damned people. So he pushed the door open wide and stepped inside the foyer, brushing past the butler in the process. “How about I wait here instead?”
At once, the servant resembled a fish, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing, though no words escaped him.
If Griff was a more generous sort, he’d feel badly for the man; but as the butler was the one currently keeping him from Ellie, he didn’t have any sympathy for the fellow. “Go on,” he urged. “Go find out if Lady Ericht is receiving visitors this morning.”
As soon as the butler darted up the staircase, faster than Griff would have given the old man credit for, the sound of a violin hit his ears. František Benda. He knew that piece. Violin Sonata in A minor. His mother had played it often enough when he was growing up.
Griff followed the haunting melody down one corridor and around a corner. He stopped when he found the music room and smiled at his own good fortune. Elspeth MacLaren, lovely as ever, stood in the middle of the room, her eyes closed as her bow worked the strings of her instrument.
He stood there in silence, listening to the pretty song and picturing Ellie along the shores of Loch Ericht, playing it for their own children someday. He must have made a sound of some sort because Ellie’s eyes popped open and she gasped in surprise.
“Heavens, Griffin!” she complained. “Ye just took ten years off my life.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her. “Don’t stop on my account, Ellie. It’s been a million years ago, but I remember Mother playing the same song when I was a boy.”
Ellie’s expression softened slightly. “Aye, she’s the one who taught me to play.”
“Someone had to.” Griff laughed, remembering one of those lessons in particular. Ellie’s playing sounded like a screeching cat. He’d covered his ears to block out the sound, as had everyone else in the vicinity; but his mother had smiled, adjusted the angle of Ellie’s bow and showed her how to smooth out the strokes. “She loved ye like a daughter.”
“I still miss her.” Ellie placed her violin on top of the pianoforte a few feet away before she turned back to face Griff. “I’m sorry ye weren’t home when…”
When she’d passed. Griff was sorry too. He’d have given nearly everything he owned just to see his mother one last time. But that wasn’t to be. “And I’m sorry about yer father,” he lied. The old earl was a miserable bastard, but Niall MacLaren had adored Ellie. She must miss him like Griff missed his own parents.
“He went peacefully.” She shrugged. “No sickness, no pain, just died in his sleep with a smile on his face. There are worse ways to go, I’m sure.”
And over the last decade, Griff had seen many of those ways. But
he shook those images from his mind. Maudlin musings was not the way to convince Ellie to run away with him. “Ian’s barred me from seeing ye. I only barely managed to get past that English butler of yers.”
At once, Ellie’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Howard was following my request, not Ian’s,” she admitted, though her voice was so soft he wasn’t certain he heard her correctly.
“I beg yer pardon?” He closed the distance between them, but Ellie turned away from him and placed her hands on the edge of the sleek pianoforte as though she needed assistance to remain upright.
“It was just a kiss, Griff. I don’t want ye to feel like ye have to do something honorable in regards to me.”
How could she think that? How could she think it was just a kiss? Griff stepped closer to her until her back was right before him. He stroked the side of her soft cheek with his thumb. “It wasn’t just a kiss for me, Ellie. I want ye as much now as I did last night.”
Her back stiffened and she shook her head. “Ye don’t even like me, Griffin Reid. Ye’ve made that very plain and ye always have.”
“Ye do drive me mad,” he admitted. “But I like ye, Ellie, more than I probably should.” She would be his downfall, no matter how badly he’d wanted to avoid that fate. “And it terrifies me.”
A mirthless laugh escaped her. “Such poetic words of love and devotion. Ye’ll forgive me if I don’t fall into yer arms and profess my undying love.”
Was that what she wanted? Griff wasn’t certain how he’d even go about sounding poetic. It just wasn’t in his nature. “Ellie,” he began, but she turned around and pressed slightly at his chest until he took a step backwards.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be. We’ll never suit. Ye know that as well as I do. So just forget ye ever kissed me and go about whatever it was ye were doing before ye kissed me.”
Except that what he’d been doing was trying to figure out how to court her. Forgetting he kissed her was counterintuitive, not to mention impossible. He could never forget that kiss as long as he lived. “I think we suit each other perfectly.”
Blast him! Ellie scowled. Why was he being difficult? “And what are yer plans for the future, Captain Reid? Do ye plan to retire from the army and settle in Achmore for the rest of yer days?”
“What is wrong with that?” he asked, a frown marring his handsome face.
“Nothing is wrong with it.” She shook her head, wondering how to make him see reason. “But it’s not what I want. If I never see the shores of Loch Ericht again, I’ll never miss it. I don’t want a quiet life in The Highlands. I want culture and excitement, museums and balls. I want all London has to offer and more.”
“Have ye forgotten that yer Scottish, Ellie?” One arrogant eyebrow lifted in disdain.
“No one has a say in where they’re born. But I do have a say in where I want to spend the rest of my life.”
“Perhaps ye’ve just been gone from home for so long, ye’ve forgotten that the land is a part of ye.”
Now he sounded poetic, but it was no matter. Ellie knew exactly what she wanted. A life in London and no further north than Yorkshire, during the summer and autumn months. “And perhaps I truly found myself when I left Scotland.”
He huffed at that as though she made no sense at all. But she made all the sense in the world. He was just too stubborn to see it. “I don’t want to go home, Griff. I want to find a nice fellow here and live happily ever after.”
“With Lord Peasemore?” he growled, though he had no reason to do so.
“He’s off the list.” Ellie shook her head.
“A list?” he chortled. “Ye have a list, do ye?”
How could one make a decision without a list? Ellie reached into her pocket, yanked out her bit of foolscap, and waved it in the air in front of her. “Of course I have a list. Why shouldn’t I?”
His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the list, and he snatched it away from her.
Ellie swatted at his arm. “Give that back to me. It’s not yers.”
“I think I have a right to see who has made yer list.” Then he began to read the names aloud, “Earl of Thurlstone, Marquess of Walsingham, the Duke of Widecomb.” His brow lifted once more.
Ellie shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I be a duchess?”
“Oh, here’s one. Mr. Matthew Greywood. Just a mere mister?”
“He’s the heir to a very wealthy viscountcy,” she returned. “And a very nice man as well.”
“Nice, is he?” Griff grumbled. “From the look of yer list, I was unaware that temperament played any sort of role in yer requirements.”
Irritating Scot. Ellie tipped back her head as regally as any queen and said, “I am very practical, Griff. I am spoiled and have a taste for the finer things in life. A wealthy man can provide those things for me. A poor one would never feel as though he lived up to my expectations. I wouldn’t want to do that to some fellow.”
“How magnanimous of ye,” he replied dryly.
Ellie narrowed her eyes on the handsome captain. “Ye are always inclined to think the worst of me.”
“On the contrary, my dear, I think I may be the only man in London who sees the real Lady Elspeth MacLaren.” A roguish grin tugged at his lips. “Only ye can decide if that’s better or worse than what others glimpse.”
Before Ellie could find the words to respond to him, Mama appeared in the threshold. “Griffin Reid!” she said, smiling as widely as Ellie had ever seen her. “Cat said ye visited yesterday. Ye are a sight for sore eyes.”
Griff handed Ellie her list back and then turned to face the countess. “Lady Ericht, ye’re as beautiful as the last time I saw ye.”
Mama’s eyes twinkled happily. “But ye’re much more handsome, my dear boy. Come and have tea with me, if ye will.”
“Mama!” Ellie complained. “I’ve been trying to get him to leave.”
Mama glanced into the music room and leveled her gaze on Ellie. “Perhaps ye could use the time, Elspeth, to work on yer manners.” Then she lifted her hand out to Griff and said, “Howard was just setting up my tea in the yellow salon.”
Just as soon as Griff had settled on a yellow brocade settee, Lady Ericht handed him a cup of tea. “Just sugar, no cream.”
The way Griff’s father had always taken his. And once upon a time, he’d done everything the way his father had done. That wasn’t how he preferred his tea these days, but it was very kind that Lady Ericht remembered his one-time preference. “Thank ye, my lady.”
She settled in beside him and smiled kindly, the way he remembered her from when he was a child. She was still a beautiful woman, though there were lines across her brow now and at the corners of her eyes that weren’t there a decade earlier. “Ye’ve come for Ellie’s hand,” she said quietly. “Ian told me.”
Then there was no point denying the truth, and it was a relief to be able to talk to the countess, who had always seemed quite fair in her dealings. “I find myself in an unenviable spot, my lady. Ellie should be mine, the Reid land should be returned to me, I was promised both, but…”
“But?” she prompted, her blue eyes, so much like Ellie’s, stared into his.
“I don’t think she’ll have me. She somehow has gotten it into her head that some English lord—and really, any will do—is her destiny.”
“She has fallen quite in love with London,” her mother replied. “But that’s neither here nor there, Griffin. My husband promised you Ellie’s hand and the old Reid land in the form of her dowry when the two of ye married. Ye have every right to demand both. Ye certainly upheld yer end of the deal.”
The fight drained out of Griff. Apparently, he just needed someone to acknowledge the truth to him, not to fight him, not to undermine him, not to try and thwart him at every turn. Just a simple acknowledgement of the situation as he knew it to be. It was almost as though a weight was lifted off his shoulders. “I think I may love her,” he said, staring down into his tea. “I think I might have always loved h
er.” He’d just never wanted to admit that to himself. But as he and Lady Ericht were sharing truths, he might as well admit that bit of truth to both of them. The countess, after all, was not his enemy.
Lady Ericht squeezed Griff’s elbow. “Ye should have seen the look in her eyes when she followed ye and Ian all through the forests and over the rocky shores. Never doubt she loved ye too. In those days, she thought ye were a prince, ye could do no wrong where she was concerned.”
“A lot has happened since those days, my lady.”
“A lot has,” she agreed. “But I’ve never thought a Reid man would give up so easily.”
Of all the people in the world, who would have thought Lady Ericht would be his champion? “I’m not a titled lord,” he said. “I’ve no money except what I’ve saved from my officer’s wages, but it wouldn’t come close to the fortunes the gentlemen she’s got her eye on possess.”
“Then ye’ll just have to change her mind about what’s important. Remind her there’s more to life than a plump pocket. She knew that once upon a time.”
He might as well face the seven labors of Hercules. He blinked at the countess, hoping she could offer a bit more insight than that.
“Mother,” Ian said from the threshold, then his eyes settled on Griff and he furrowed his brow. “Apologies. I didn’t realize we had company.”
Lady Ericht waved a hand in her son’s direction and said, “Come in, shut the door, and have a seat, Ian.”
He heaved a beleaguered sigh, but did as his mother bade, settling in a chintz chair across from Griff and Lady Ericht.
“Now,” the countess began, “once upon a time the two of ye were thick as thieves. Whatever else has happened and whatever else has transpired between yer two families seven decades ago or even one, I hate for the two of ye to lose each other. Ye might as well have been brothers ye were so close.”
“Mother.” Ian shook his head.
But she pressed on. “I’m not done, Ian. Yer father should have told Ellie long ago that she was betrothed to Griffin. I begged him to do so, but he wouldn’t hear of it. After he passed, we should have told her, but we didn’t because it was easier not to do so.” She shifted in her seat to stare directly at Griff and said, “We owe ye an apology for that. And I, for one, am very sorry.”
An Encounter at Hyde Park Page 23