“Lord, I hope not. It’s quite the overdone thing, you know.” Silence settled over us for a moment. “Are you planning to eat that tart? It’s actually quite tempting.”
“Ye—wait, didn’t you send Michael to fetch it because you were having a craving?”
Her expression turned sheepish again, a blush coloring her pale skin. “I may have received some intelligence that you’d been at the bakery every morning at around ten… I cannot possibly help it if my craving struck at precisely the same time and I absolutely had to send my dear, doting husband out for it.”
I bit back a smile as I pulled the tart from the bag, tore it in half, and handed her the larger piece. “You’re quite the schemer, Juliet Wayland. You act all innocent and ladylike, but if you put your mind to it, you could take over the country.”
“Only the country?”
“For a start. I wouldn’t want to limit your future endeavors.”
She tipped the tart out like a glass. I tapped mine against hers before we took a simultaneous bite.
“To my inevitable future rule.”
“Long may you reign.”
It wasdark by the time I escaped from Kit’s offices. I was entirely astonished when I returned to a brand-new apartment—entirely free of rubbish and clutter.
I would need to find a time to thank Kate—and I wasn’t yet willing to brave Hugh so it would require some careful plotting.
Instead of reaching for the scotch, I set the kettle on for tea. Absentmindedly, I tugged on the knot of my cravat as I wandered over to the writing desk in the corner of my sitting room.
I couldn’t recall precisely where I had, in my drunken state, put the address I’d borrowed—certainly not stolen—from Kit. I pulled open the drawer and flipped through pages for something covered in ash and half-burned.
At last, I found it in the very last drawer. I tugged it free, settled it atop my desk, and reached for a fresh piece of parchment. As I did, my gaze caught on the address—Kilmarnock Abbey.
Memory washed over me. The drunken waves of longing spilling across the pages by candlelight. Folding and addressing the missive in my infinite soused wisdom.
Fuck.
The chair smacked angrily against the floor when I shot to my feet. I grabbed a drawer, and the contents spilled free in a pile across the floor.
My knees protested when I fell to the wood and began sifting pathetically through the wreckage for a letter I knew I wouldn’t find. Because deep in my gut, I knew. One of the maids had taken it.
I barely had the forethought to pull the kettle off the stove before I rushed out the door for Grayson House at a sprint.
Twenty-One
KILMARNOCK ABBEY, EDINBURGH - JULY 3, 1816
Dav,
These boots are brown. Literally every piece of clothing I own is black, which you well know. You are a spiteful little hellion and I am glad to be rid of you.
Tell Mother that the only creature I’ve had the misfortune of meeting is a particularly recalcitrant sheep named Fenella. The sheep makes it a point to defecate precisely in the places I most frequently step. Godfrey has threatened to give notice if he is asked to clean my boots one more time.
Scotland itself is lovely. The house is in need of a few repairs, but I am certain it will be in perfect order shortly.
Warmest Regards,
Xander
XANDER
After a nightwith little in the way of rest, I woke with the sun. I directed a much more well-rested Godfrey to locate Lock and seek out recommendations for laborers. And then to find a pallet, a cot, anything in the realm of a bed for Kilmarnock.
Miss McAllen—either having not attempted or having failed in her efforts to escape in the night—rose much later. She grumbled in precisely the same manner Davina did when one of her plans had been foiled so I rather suspected it was the latter.
