“Yes. Good news.” One man, at least, seemed to be on her side, even if it was because he fancied her. Miranda paused on the steps. Was that the only reason he’d decided to help? He certainly hadn’t given her a straight answer when she’d asked.
He didn’t seem the sort of man who followed a lady about, holding her parasol or fetching her punch. But if encouraging him would help ensure his assistance, she’d be a fool to keep snapping at him. Hmm. Leading a man—any man—on made her feel dirty, whatever the reason. Could she do it, though? Would she be leading him on if part of her enjoyed the way he kept her on her toes, or the way other women eyed her jealously when she waltzed with him?
But then Uncle John had charmed Aunt Beatrice into marriage, and Matthew had charmed Eloise into accepting his proposal. Charm and attraction might be influencing her reaction to Aden MacTaggert, but as long as she knew it, as long as she kept that firmly in mind, no one would be leading her astray. Dragging her, yes, but she wouldn’t be going of her own volition.
For now she would settle for deciding that Aden wasn’tas intolerable as she’d first believed, and that she’d won his silly wager so he owed her some assistance. Yes. That would do. Until it didn’t.
Aden fed an apple to Loki, leaning a hip against the chestnut’s haunch as he munched on another fruit himself. Miranda hadn’t responded to his note, not that she could do so without stirring up trouble. Pretending to be Eloise had seemed the least suspicious way to communicate with her, even if it did leave her no simple way to answer. He therefore might well be lurking down the street from Harris House for no good reason, but at least he’d thought to bring snacks.
But then his reason for lurking emerged from Harris House, and he forgot what he’d been thinking about. She and her omnipresent yellow-haired maid walked down the short drive, pausing there as Miranda looked up and down the street. Aden straightened, his pulse speeding in a combination of anticipation and lust. When she spied him, she gave a subtle wave of her fingers and turned in his direction. The streets of Mayfair stood fairly empty at the moment, since most of the bluebloods would be home now dressing for dinner or the theater or whichever distraction they’d planned for the evening. That all made the two of them more obvious to anyone who might be passing by, but as long as Matthew didn’t leave the house to follow his sister, it remained the best option.
“Aden,” Miranda said, as she reached him.
“Miranda.” He handed Loki’s reins to the startled-looking maid. “Dunnae fret; he’s a well-behaved lad.”
“I—”
“We cannae stand here chatting,” he pushed, falling in beside Miranda. He wanted to touch her, so he offered the lass his arm—which any gentleman would do. Her gloved hand sliding around his forearm felt somehow significant, but then she was a proper lass and more than likely wouldn’t slight him in public. “I followed ye to luncheon, but I left once I saw ye settled into a chair at the Kings Hotel.”
“You followed me?”
Aden shrugged. “Ye said the vulture wants respectability, but there’s more than one way for him to gain yer cooperation, I reckon.”
She nodded. “I had my reticule in my lap for the entire ride so I could beat him with it and flee if necessary. Thank you.”
“Ye dunnae owe me thanks, lass. I lost a wager to ye.” He hadn’t done a damned thing other than trot his horse after Vale’s carriage. And insult the man to his face, hopefully giving the captain something to think about for a moment other than Miranda. No heroics, ill conceived or not, had been necessary.
“Several people are aware of my present circumstance. You—and Millie—are the only ones who seem concerned.” Her mouth quirked. “And I believe you mentioned you weren’t aiding me because you lost that wager.”
Aden studied the brief humor in her eyes.A remarkable lass, she was. “I did say that, aye.” Whether that made him an idiot or not, he couldn’t yet guess. “I can make ye one promise, Miranda: I’ll nae stand aside and allow ye to pay for someone else’s mistakes.” He wanted to declare himself, to inform her that he’d found his English bride, but at this point she’d only laugh at him. Aside from that, she already had one villain trying to force her into something. He didn’t wish to be another.
It had also struck him that the most interesting lass with whom he’d crossed paths in London might well be the one who could ensure that he was able to return to the Highlands without a Sassenach bride. He’d hold on to that for later, because he never let go of a good playing cardeven if he meant never to use it. If she’d been a three-eyed gargoyle, aye, he might—likely would—have been tempted, but she was a two-eyed bonny lass with a sharp wit, and he liked her. “Like” seemed a simple word for the vast tangle of questions hovering around her and poking at him, but he’d make use of it for now.
“And that is why I thank you,” she said, clearly unaware of what he was thinking.
Aden shook himself. He could have his mental dilemmas over entanglements and duty to family, but she was in the middle of a field of thorns. Very real ones. “Save yer appreciation; I’ve nae done a thing yet. Were ye able to get any information out of Captain Vale, then?”
“Yes. The last thing I learned may be the most important, and in all honesty, I discovered it completely by accident. Lord George Humphries isnotCaptain Vale’s cousin. They are not related at all.”
He scowled, noting the satisfaction on her face at flummoxing him. And she’d done a damned fine job of it. “The hell ye say.”
“He told me straight to my face. Lord George is in debt to him, as well, and that is how he chose to collect. By fashioning himself into Lord George Humphries’s cousin and staying at Baromy House with him.”
Up front the lie was so outrageous that he had to wonder why Vale would attempt it. Proficient gamblers could be surprisingly cautious lads. On the other hand, who would question the truth of it once Lord George declared it to be so? It did turn a tangle of misinformation he’d gathered about Lord George’s cousin into something that made more sense—in that nothing made sense, because none of it was true. “So, he’s used Lord George Humphries to open the door, and means to use ye to keep himself in Society. At some point later on if anybody askshim about being cousins, he can say the lot of ye must have misunderstood him or someaught.”
She nodded. “That’s what he said. The first part, anyway.” She sighed, and he tried not to lower his gaze to her very distracting bosom. “I do find it rather unsettling that you seem to understand him so well,” she went on. “You have said you’re not alike, after all.”
“If ye mean to keep pounding at me for enjoying a hand of cards here and there,” he retorted, “I reckon I could be elsewhere, chasing down a less testy lass for me to marry in the next four months.”
“If you mean to tell me you only play a hand of cards now and again, I’m going to call you a liar. Both of us are here precisely because you are reputed to be a formidable opponent at the gaming tables.”
A dim lass would have been easy to manage, he reflected, but a dim lass wouldn’t have caught his attention. Unmarried young ladies had been pelting him with handkerchiefs and fluttering eyelashes and glimpses of ankles for weeks now. This one clubbed him over the head with her wit, and he was panting after her like a buck after a doe.
“Aye,” he agreed after a moment, “but only one of us dislikes my reputation.”
“I dislike your reputation out of principle, and your choice of hobby or distraction or whatever it is because it affects other people’s lives,” she returned. “Youare harder to quantify.”
“Well, thank Saint Andrew for that, anyway.” Aden tucked her in closer against his side. “I’m carrying yer secret with me, ye ken, whether ye like me or nae. So ye decide either to trust me with it, or to go look elsewhere for a man who’ll agree to partner with ye.”
