“Do you always talk so much when you plot?” Eric asked.
Langford ignored him. “So how to make her a friend instead of an enemy? I ask you, Stratton, how did you do that with Clara?” His blue eyes twinkled as if stars had entered them. “Don’t be shy. Tell Brentworth here how it is done.”
Stratton looked at Eric. “He has a point.”
“When it comes to women, I usually do,” Langford said with supreme contentment. “That is what you need to do, Brentworth. Befriend her. Charm her. Kiss her. Hell, seduce her if necessary. Otherwise, the most discreet duke in the world will have everyone nosing into his business until hell freezes.”
Chapter Seven
Two days later, his letter to the king composed and sent, Eric presented himself again at Hume’s house. No rows, he told himself as he faced the door. Even if the woman irritated him, even if she provoked him, no arguments.
Once more, the housekeeper put him in the little library. Once more, Angus Hume joined him first.
He had sworn no rows with Miss MacCallum. Hume was another matter.
“We are honored again,” Hume said.
“I waited until two o’clock so I would not pull her away from her duties this time.”
“How gracious of you. Still, I expect there will be some time before she joins us. Women and their vanities and all that.”
“She does not strike me as vain. However, your point is well taken.” He turned to the bookcase and pretended to browse the bindings. “Can I thank you for letting it about that she has business with me?”
“Rather more significant than business, don’t you think?”
“My question stands, no matter what word we use.”
Silence behind him. Then a burst of energy came across the chamber like a wave. “The king was not doing as he promised. Now, with society aware, he will be forced to.”
“You have complicated matters more than was wise. For one thing, the king was not the problem. I was. And I made no promises, so I have no obligations.”
“He could make you relinquish—”
“I am Brentworth, and he would never dare it.” He turned to face Hume. “What is your interest in this?”
“She is in my house and is my responsibility.”
How noble he made it sound. The scoundrel saw gain in helping her, of one kind or another. “Does she know what you have done? How you have made her the object of whispers and gossip? That many will call her a fraud and charlatan fit only for prison?”
“That will pass. Then she will regain those lands and everyone will know how it came to be that her family lost them and why,” Hume said with a snarl. “Scotland will cheer when she bests you.”
“It will be a very small victory.”
“Not so small. As the great-granddaughter of a hero of ’46, she will be famous. She will marry one of her own kind, and be a baroness.”
He did not ask who Hume envisioned as a good Scottish match for Miss MacCallum. Hume probably saw himself at the top of the list.
Anger threatened to get the better of him again. Stratton would be appalled. He glanced toward the door, hoping it would open so he would be spared this scoundrel’s presence.
It did open, but not to Miss MacCallum. Rather a bent old woman entered, her cane taps on the floor punctuating the silence while she walked.
“Allow me to introduce you to my mother,” Hume said.
Eric wondered if he was expected to chat with Mrs. Hume, as if he had called on her. Fortunately, after a few words she tapped to a corner and took position on a chair.
“I know you will not mind if she remains in the chamber during your call,” Hume said. “It threatens rain outside, so the garden will not do this time. Do not worry that she will overhear. She is all but deaf in one ear.”
The mother’s presence would ensure no rows, so Eric did not mind at all.
