“Very unlikely.”
One hairpin had come loose, and he carefully pushed it back into place, using the moment to run a finger along her soft cheek before he stepped back again. “Whether ye like me or nae, when Vale asks again what ye think of me, tell him I’m interesting, or unexpected, something that’s nae an insult. And if the conversation turns the right way, ye might mention that I’ve given up wagering, or so I’ve told ye.”
She gazed at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And why am I to make more trouble for myself?”
“Think of it as making trouble for me, lass. If we candivide his attention a little, that’ll help us more than it does him.”
“What are you pl—”
The fact that she was still in a mood to argue reassured him even as he half pushed her out of the room and shut the door on her. Then he spent the next five minutes pacing while he considered whether he’d gone mad or not, and why that prospect didn’t trouble him as much as it would have a few weeks ago. He’d just set her on a course, and that obligated him to take the voyage with her.
Aden stopped pacing. However this had begun, it wasn’t a sense of obligation pushing him now. No, he wanted Miranda Harris for himself, and Captain Robert Vale was in his way. One of them needed to go, and he didn’t mean for it to be him.
Chapter Ten
“Where the devil have ye been?” Coll grunted, hooking an arm around Aden’s shoulder and guiding him toward a table laden with cakes and biscuits. “I’ve near been killed by all the lasses hurtling themselves at me tonight. Ye might have helped me fend them off, or at least divided their attention.”
Aden shrugged out of his brother’s grip. “Stop fending them off and try dancing with one or two of them,” he suggested. “Ye might even find one ye like.”
“Dunnae advise me unless ye intend to do that yerself. Ye spend more time with the squinters and fainters than ye do the pretty ones.”
“I’m looking for an interesting lass. Doesnae matter where I might find her.” Although the most interesting lass he’d ever found would seem to be among the so-called pretty ones, pursued by another man she couldn’t afford to reject.
Coll snorted. “Ye cannae bamboozle me,bràthair. Ye’re after information, though where ye put it all, and what ye use it for, I’ve nae idea. I do see ye’ve nae pranced over to say hello to Miranda Harris, though. Ye scared of her?”
Not much of the information he’d uncovered would be of use to anyone other than gossips. He simply enjoyed knowing what lay beneath the expensive clothes and polished silver, who had a grudge against whom, which family desperately needed a wealthy daughter to marry into the family, which family’s façade of perfection was about to be shredded by a wayward son or daughter. “Aye, terrified.”
Not a single one of those interesting conversations, though, had provided him with any news about a family named Vale, and at this moment he would have given a great deal to alter that fact. For Saint Andrew’s sake, he didn’t even know if Vale was the captain’s true name, or if he’d assumed it somewhere along the way to India or back again. At home there would be a minister who would know which man belonged to which family. Here, with churches on nearly every street, he had no idea where he might even begin. Cornwall, he supposed, though he was loath to leave London—and Miranda—for anything while she remained threatened.
“There’s Matthew’s sister now,” Coll announced unnecessarily, because Aden had had his gaze on her from the moment she walked back into the ballroom.
“Aye,” he returned, keeping an eye on her until she’d joined a group of her friends before he pulled from his pocket a dance card he’d pilfered. She’d said Vale had wanted both waltzes, though he’d neglected to ask if he’d actually claimed them. Two waltzes with Miranda seemed a fine idea to him, but he’d heard enough of Eloise’s lecturing to know that waltzes were rare and absconding with both of them bordered on scandalous. It also made a statement about possession, which was no doubt what Captain Vale had had in mind.
“Are we supposed to have dance cards as well, now?” Coll asked, scowling. “Ye might have told me that.”
“Nae,” Aden answered, pocketing his again. “I just wanted to know where the waltzes were.”
“Ye dance every dance at these horrors,” his brother pressed. “I reckon ye do need a card, so ye dunnae give the same quadrille to two different lasses.”
Evidently Viscount Glendarril meant to stick like honey to him tonight, which wouldn’t be at all convenient. Aden blew out his breath and gestured the big man closer. “When we arrived in London, ye had yer back up, and ye made a mistake or two. And now ye’re tiptoeing about like ye’re worried ye’re going to break someaught. Th—”
“Ye might consider yer next words carefully, Aden.” Coll hadn’t moved, but Aden knew him well enough to take the warning seriously.
“This is the way I see it,” he continued, shifting just a little so he could see his brother’s hands from the edge of his gaze. If fists appeared, he was going to have to decide whether to dodge or take the hit. “Ye had lasses throwing themselves at ye in Scotland. The only difference was, it was home. Ye knew who they were, and ye knew what to say, who ye could bed, and who ye shouldnae even cast yer eyes upon.”
“Aye,” Coll said, his eyes still narrowed. “So far ye’re making sense. What of it?”
“So use yer imagination. Ye’re a man with a title, bound for a grander one. Ye’ll be a chieftain of clan Ross one day. Ye’ve a damned fine estate in the north, and nae a one of those lasses needs to know ye’re only marrying to keep it funded. As far as they ken, ye’re marrying at yer mother’s request, which makes ye a dutiful son. All the Sassenach reckon we’re savages and they dunnae expect perfect manners or that ye can even read. That gives ye a step up right there. Ye’re nae ill featured, and if ye do spy a lass who interests ye, the odds are that she’ll want ye right back. Pretend ye’re still in the Highlands, at agrand party, and ye’re on the hunt. Just be… Coll MacTaggert. He’s a fine man, and I’m proud to know him.”
“I’m nae a fine man. I’m a rugged man. I know my way about a tavern, and a woman. I dunnae like the way everyone talks behind their lacy fans or their hands here, trying to be fancy and looking down their damned beaks at anyone who willnae play their game.”
“That’s what I’m telling ye. Playyergame. Then at least if ye dunnae find a lass, it willnae be because ye didnae try. Could be even Francesca might excuse ye, then.”
“I bloody well hope so.” Still grumbling, Coll clapped Aden on the shoulder, his way of showing appreciation, before he stalked off toward a group of young females.
Aden might have spent a moment reflecting that a miracle had occurred, except that the hawk-faced Captain Robert Vale appeared from the direction of the gaming room. If he didn’t care about the consequences, it would have been fucking tempting to go punch the man in the face until his nose took on a more flattering shape. But he did care about the consequences, because they affected Miranda. And so he watched.
When Matthew made his appearance from some nondescript hallway, Aden was fairly certain Eloise’s betrothed had been in the gaming room as well, and didn’t want his family to find him out. Harris could pretend whatever he pleased, but this damned wagering needed to stop. If it didn’t, Aden would have to stop the wedding, and that would upend everything—including his own plans.
