Katharine Ashe - How to Marry a Highlander

“No.”

Effie’s mouth set in a pout. “Then why did ye send those lovely gentlemen away?”

“Because they were not in fact lovely or gentlemen.” Teresa looked about at the seven people staring at her. The old woman in black had not removed her attention from the street. “If we are to do this successfully, we must do it right, which means socializing only with men suitable to court an earl’s sister.”

“But—”

“Listen to the lass, Effie,” the earl said in his deep, delicious rumble behind her. “She’s got yer best interests in mind.”

Teresa turned to him and was glad there were eight other people in the room or she might have done something astoundingly forward. He looked as rough and barbaric and thrillingly virile as the day before, and she was convinced that the devil himself had created the Earl of Eads to make her think wanton thoughts.

“Havena ye, lass?” he said.

“Yes. As well as my interests. But I would prefer it if you did not call me lass.”

“Would ye?”

“I would as well,” Tobias said firmly and moved beside her.

Lord Eads frowned. “Suitor?”

“No, Duncan.” Una grinned. “This is Mr. Finch-Freeworth. Teresa’s brither.”

The earl’s shoulders seemed to relax. He nodded at Tobias. “Come to chaperone?”

“I have.”

“Which won’t be necessary at present,” Teresa said, “as our business today is entirely of the feminine sort. But you are certainly welcome to come along if you wish, Toby.” She forced her attention away from the earl and studied his sisters gathered around. Their gowns were threadbare and their slippers scuffed. That could be easily remedied; between her and Diantha’s wardrobes they would find gowns and whatnot to suit. “We must return to my lodgings and . . .” She could not say what she intended. She could not shame him like that. “Make some plans,” she finished. “On this occasion I should like to take Ladies Moira, Lily, Abigail, and Una.” They were the prettiest, excepting defiant Effie. “May I, my lord?”

He nodded. “Ye heard the leddy,” he said to his sisters. “Be aff wi’ ye.”

Elspeth’s nostrils looked pinched. “I will remain here and read to my sister from my latest treatise on the proper comportment of modest females.”

Effie’s brow was dark. “I dinna think I like ye, Miss Finch-Freeworth. Ye remind me o’ our old nurse.”

“That’ll do, Effie.” The earl’s voice was a warning growl.

Teresa went forward and looked Effie directly in the eye. “Do not fret. I have great plans for you, Lady Effie.” Making certain she didn’t lose her innocence to a two-penny ex-soldier, for instance. She lowered her voice. “But now I need you to arrange Lady Elspeth’s hair in a fashion that will not frighten off crows. Will you do that for me?”

Effie wiggled her brows. “I may like ye after all.” She pulled Elspeth out the door.

“The carriage awaits, ladies,” Tobias said.

Lily went out with a light step, Moira following. Abigail trailed reluctantly behind. Teresa bit her lip. Perhaps the bookish sister shouldn’t be thrown into socializing immediately.

“She willna be alone, Teresa,” Una said. “We’ll be wi’ her.”

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

“Because I’ve the same worry.”

Teresa took Una’s hand. “I think I will be fortunate to have you as a friend.”

Una’s eyes crinkled at the sides. “Yer the first English leddy who’s spoken kindly to us since we’ve been in London. I’m already the fortunate one.”

“My lord,” Tobias said, “I will return momentarily.”

Lord Eads nodded. Tobias offered his arm to Una and went out.

“Your sisters gave you away, you know,” Teresa said, turning to the earl. “If you were trying to escape me by moving across town, you clearly do not know how much gossip is being bandied about concerning you and your sisters. I heard about this”—she gestured to the hotel—“before breakfast.” Invention.

But it was best to show a powerful offense.

“Blast it, woman. Ye said to move outta the flat, so I moved them.”

He had followed her advice. “I meant into a house, of course.”

“Managing female.”

“We made a deal, my lord.”

“I’m weel aware o’ that.”

“Why didn’t you send me a note telling me of your new direction?”

“Do ye be wanting a man to be sending ye private messages at yer friend’s house nou?”

“You could have disguised it as a posy.”

“I’m no courting ye, Miss Finch-Freeworth.”

True. It was rather the opposite. She could not deny that she liked the feeling of power it gave her to command a great big titled nobleman to do as she wished. At home her parents never paid her wishes any heed. But her dreams of being swept off her feet by a man had involved him doing the sweeping, not her.

That was childish, she supposed. This was real. Her future depended upon it.

“I will accomplish what I have promised.” She said it as much to convince herself as him.

“We’ll see.”

“Why did you say you did not remember seeing me at that ball last year when in fact you did?”

He said nothing for a moment, then: “Guidday, miss.” He bowed.

“Good day, my lord.”

She left. She had a month. Twenty-nine days now, to be precise. It wouldn’t do to badger him unnecessarily. Even Tobias, a gem of a man, didn’t like badgering. She had plenty of time to come to understand the man she was courting, and perhaps even to secure husbands for one or two of his sisters before someone in society discovered her program and she was cut from every drawing room in London.

Now, however, she had no time for pessimistic musings. She must outfit a bevy of bonnie lasses.

Duncan watched her brother hand her into the cab. As she stepped up, her cloak tugged tight against her full, round behind and Duncan’s cravat felt two sizes too tight.

He should not be allowing this. Two days earlier he should have told her to leave him be in no uncertain terms, then he should have said nothing to Una.

But he’d been a bit outta his mind at the time.

She had come to him .

It wasn’t to be believed. He’d thought about her often in the past eighteen months while he’d been trying to make something of the disaster his father left of the estate. He’d not been able to forget her. Only twice in his life had the mere sight of a woman across a room spun his world upside down.

The first time that happened, his fragile Marie paid for it with her life and the life of their wee bairn. The doctor said it’d been the babe’s size—big like his father—too big for his dainty mother to bring forth. Even seven years later, the dark hollowness that had grown inside him from the day he’d held her breathless body in his arms and knew he’d killed her still clung to him. He’d not curse another woman like that. Miss Teresa Finch-Freeworth with her outrageous propositions and warm, vibrant smile deserved better.

He scowled. He’d enough of managing females now, anyway. Seven of them.

Seven husbands for seven brides . . .

She meant to go through with it. If she did, he’d be honor bound to kiss her, touch her, and make love to her. Then to wed her.

He couldn’t allow it. He’d not use a woman like that for any reason, not when he didn’t intend to marry her. But she was as determined as she was bonnie. He’d have to deter her from pursuing her program.

Finch-Freeworth closed the carriage door and with a firm stride returned to him.

“My lord, your sisters seem like gentlewomen and I don’t mind my sister going about town with them. But I’ll know what intentions you have toward her or I’ll make an end to their acquaintance this instant.”