I don’t want anyone to call me Your Grace in your presence, Helen. Not now. Not yet. Let me still be Jack Pike for you. For a little while longer. The man you want to hate. I’m not ready to be the man you really hate.
“No, of course not. I know you must be tired. I’ll leave you all to get settled. I’m sure you want to bathe and that can be arranged. The price is included with the rooms.”
“Get the stink of Scotland off us,” Helen muttered.
Jack ignored her remark. “And coal and meals as well. I’ll go and make an appointment for tomorrow at the modiste for you, Helen.”
“The what?”
“The dressmaker’s.”
“Oh.” She mouthed the word.Modiste.
“I’ll come early in the morning. Ten.”
“Ten what?”
“Ten o’clock.”
Mags and Duncan and Helen all glanced at each other. Helen shook her head. “Ten is nae early in the morning. Nae at this time of year. At the winter solstice, maybe.”
“Ten is very early in the morning in London. At all times of the year.”
“I can see I have a lot to learn about London ways. How much were the rooms?” Helen put her hand in her reticule.
Jack waved his hand. “We’ll settle up later. I wondered if I might speak to you alone for a moment, Lady Kinmarloch?”
Helen looked at Mags and Duncan.
“I will go unpack ye and myself, my lady,” Mags said and lowered her chin slightly at Duncan who picked up the bags and his pack easily and left the drawing room, trailing behind Mags.
Helen folded her arms in front of her chest and looked at Jack.
He took one step closer to her. “You are serious about marrying the Duke of Dunmore?”
“Aye.”
“Have you thought about pursuing other matches? Besides the duke?
She frowned. “Ye know I have very specific reasons for marrying.”
“I think you said wealth and power the last time I saw you. One or the other. Or both.”
“’Tis to do with uniting the lands and the titles again. Ye know that.”
“But you might meet someone else here. A man who would want to be your consort, would want to have a son who would be an earl or a daughter who would be a countess. Someone with money.”
“Aye. But he widnae be a Scot.”
“Neither is the Duke of Dunmore.”
“His name is MacNaughton.”
“That’s the only Scottish thing about him,” Jack said under his breath. “Think on it, Helen. It would be a shame to waste the trip and the dress.”
“Ye mean to foist me off on someone else, then.”
“It’s not a question of foisting.”
