“Every single one.”
“Then I would say that is a ghost who should remain exactly where it is.” She tilted her head. “Is that the only ghostly tale in your castle?”
“Goodness no. In fact, thereisa murdered bride, but…” His voice trailed away.
“But you don’t think them appropriate for my delicate, female ears?” Her voice was tart.
No, he wanted to intrigue her so that he could spend more time with her. “I meant no offense,” he said quickly. “We have just met, and some ladies do not enjoy bloody tales of ghostly apparitions.”
“Then you weren’t listening closely, were you? I told you I love ghost stories.” She didn’t appear angry so much as challenging him. Apparently, the lady enjoyed battling wits.
“Unfair! There are several types of ghost stories, my lady. I only began with the most proper.”
“And there you have it wrong again. I also said I was a most improper lady.”
Yes, he thought, he was counting on it. “True point, my lady.” He held out his hand. “May I buy you an ice at Gunter’s as my forfeit?”
That was too much for Mr. Russell, who stood up forcefully enough to knock Liam’s hand aside. “Lady Clara is otherwise engaged.” Then he turned to the lady with his own warm smile. “I believe we were going to promenade this afternoon.”
Lady Clara looked at her friend and then back at Liam. Clearly, she was at a loss here, unused to having two gentlemen vie for her attention. She shook her head. “You’re both being very vexing,” she said firmly.
Then she straightened off the bench. And kept straightening. Good lord, the woman was tall. She nearly looked him in the eye. And that dusting of burnt sugar on her face now stretched out on alongface. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that she stood, he saw how very angular she was. Long limbs, a full slash of a nose, and a wide mouth pressed tight.
And she did not like Mr. Russell demanding her sole attention.
Best to give way, lest she tar him with the same brush. Except he couldn’t make himself small beside this arrogant Englishman, so he attempted a compromise.
“Can we three not walk together? There is plenty of time before the fashionable hour.”
“Don’t listen to him,” the man said, his tone a dark warning. “He’scharming,and you don’t like that.”
“Neither do I like peevish,” the lady countered. Then she twitched her skirts into place and headed off in the other direction. She didn’t saygood day, or any other polite formality. She rounded on her heel and walked away, her long legs covering distance with ease.
“Lady Clara!” cried Mr. Russell, his hands lifted in disgust. “Now she’ll be skittish for weeks.” He turned to glare at Liam.
“So run after her. Blame it all on me.” Clearly, the man was smitten with her, and if an attachment was in the offing, Liam would like to know now.
“She hates being chased. Almost as much as I despise impertinent Scotsmen.”
Liam allowed his accent to roll through his word. “Och, we know. That’s why we do it.” And no truer statement had ever been spoken.
“Well, it won’t work with her. Or me.” And with that, the man gathered up his papers and stomped away.
Liam watched him go while his thoughts spun toward the seduction of Lady Clara. Clearly Mr. Russell favored the mealy-mouthed approach of letting the lady set the pace of their interactions. Probably a wise choice for an Englishman with little bottom. But Liam was cut from different cloth, and his ancestors favored boldness when acquiring their women. Abduction was not the plan, even though his father had suggested it. His thoughts were more “charming nuisance.” No woman had ever resisted him beyond five interactions.
This was his first, and quite successful given that he’d removed a rival.
His second came at the opera where he visited her booth. Her brother was in London for one night and was known to use his booth as way to advance his political ambitions. Easy enough to slip in behind several Members of Parliament. He found her reading a book at the side edge of their box. He greeted her and was rewarded with a grunt. He teased her, and she grudgingly looked up.
He could tell she remembered him. Her eyes widened then narrowed. “Castle plumbing, yes?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
“I’ve moved on to botany now,” she said as she flashed him the cover of her book. Something about plants, he assumed. The light was weak enough that he couldn’t make out the title. He wondered how she managed to see the words on the page.
“What about ghostly tales? Have you lost interest in those?”
That did catch her interest, but her gaze landed beyond his shoulder to her brother. “Aaron will never allow it, and since it’s his birthday, I shall oblige him this once.” This time she dismissed him in the polite way. “You may wish him happy birthday over there. Good evening.”
