“Caro is a very dear friend,” Jo said icily.
“Aye, a kind young woman, which is why I’ve come to speak to her. I was here first, Your Royal Highness, which you might have seen if ye’d opened your eyes.”
“Not Royal Highness, just Highness,” Jo corrected him. “In Osagard, no one is Royal Highness except the heir, which is my father.”
“Thank ye very much for reminding me of both my manners and your position,” Mr. McCormick returned.
Singleton took a step forward, as though ready to show Mr. McCormick the door, but Caro put a light hand on his arm and shook her head. Singleton’s heavy brows furrowed, but he subsided.
Neither Jo nor Mr. McCormick seemed to note Caro’s and Singleton’s presence. They fixed on each other, Jo’s cheeks bright pink, Mr. McCormick stiff-backed and annoyed.
“You’re welcome,” Jo said with lofty sarcasm. “I believe you need the instruction. Perhaps you ought to schedule a few lessons.”
“With you?” Mr. McCormick opened his blue eyes wide. “You’d like to tutor a rude Scotsman, would you?”
“I believe you said you were from Shetland. And of course I would not presume to teach you. That would be highly improper. I meant to leave you at Singleton’s mercy.” Jo jerked her attention from Mr. McCormick and returned it to Caro, but Caro sensed she did so with reluctance. “Might we go up, Caro? The hall is a bit crowded.”
Mr. McCormick’s face was as red as his hair now, but he bowed and backed away as Jo swept past him toward the stairs. Jo seized Caro’s arm in passing, turning her around and half dragging her up the first flight of steps.
Caro called down from the landing. “Singleton, please show Mr. McCormick to the gallery, where Mr. Stone is. I will speak to him later.”
She nearly missed Singleton’s unhappy, “Very good, Your Grace,” because Eamon had appeared from the shadowy gallery, capturing her attention. From his amused expression, he’d witnessed the entire exchange below.
Eamon gave Jo a polite bow then shot Caro a good-natured grin that flashed heat through her, before Jo’s determined stride pulled Caro up the next flight of stairs.
Jo’s anger receded the higher they climbed, and she was her usual chipper self by the time they reached the fourth-floor drawing room.
“Where Mr. Stone is,” Jo repeated, mimicking Caro’s cool tones. “Such richness, my friend.”
“Such prickliness between you and Mr. McCormick.” Caro closed the door in the empty room, the dowager in her own chambers writing her letters. “The poor man came here to ask for a post, I believe.”
“A post?” Jo untied the ribbons on her bonnet and pulled it off, blinking as though she’d never heard of such a thing.
“Yes, a post.” Caro gestured her friend to the sofa. “A paying job. Did you think I meant a pillar?”
Jo plopped down in a flutter of skirts. “Why on earth would he ask you for a post?”
“I imagine he needs the money.” Caro sat more gently next to her. “He was with Mr. Stone in the army, and none of them had a bean when they left it.”
“You say that so airily, as though money doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t. Not really. It is very useful for paying one’s bills and buying potatoes, but one doesn’t need riches to have kind friends. I’ve discovered that one knows very quickly who one’s true and dear friends are as soon as we are in straitened circumstances. Such as you and your family and darling Louise and her sons.”
“And now you’ve made me feel frivolous and shallow.” Jo balled her hands in her lap. “I apologize, dearest. I am behaving abominably. I didn’t see the wretched man until he was very solidly in my way.” She rubbed her shoulder. “I meant it when I called him a boulder. Mr. McCormick is quite strong.” Her voice lost irritation and admiration crept in. “And rude,” she added quickly.
“He did not expect to be dashed into by a princess,” Caro said. “An adorable one, at that. I imagine you flustered him.”
“Perhaps,” Jo conceded.
Caro hid her amusement. Jo wasn’t used to gentlemen like Mr. McCormick, who didn’t fawn over her or try to ingratiate himself with excessively courteous sentiments.
Mr. McCormick hadn’t been awed by the grandeur of the Portman Square house or daunted by the lofty company he’d found himself in, either. He was a plain-spoken man, from what Caro had seen, who wouldn’t scrape and bow if he did not believe the person in front of him deserved it.
Caro found him refreshing, but Jo apparently did not know what to think.
“What did you rush into the house to tell me?” Caro asked. “It must be important, to risk Singleton’s ire.”
“Singleton is a sweet man, and we both know it.” Jo’s dimples returned as she scooted closer to Caro and locked her arm through hers. “I came to find out what happened when you disappeared with your Mr. Stone last night. Merry told me,” she explained when Caro drew a startled breath. “I didn’t have a chance to speak to you after Lady Carmichael took you as her prisoner.”
