Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Nine

B eatrix held out her hand and forced a smile as the tall and lanky Lord Greenock bowed over it. Today was Thursday, and this was Lady MacGlory’s afternoon for receiving callers. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord. I have heard so much about you.”

He arched an eyebrow and cast her a rakishly insincere smile. “All of it good, I hope.”

She cast him a return smile she hoped would appear more sincere than his. “Most of it, I assure you.”

He chuckled at the remark. “Yer father and Lady MacGlory were not in jest when they described ye as beautiful. Ye are the loveliest thing I have ever set eyes upon.”

She blushed, surprised by the comment. It seemed all these Scots were rather straightforward in expressing their feelings. He was a handsome gentleman, she had to give him that. However, he was not as finely built as Lucas. He was slender where Lucas was ruggedness and brawn.

Also, his features were not striking but better described as delicate…perhaps refined was what they called it in the upper circles. His reddish-gold hair surrounded a not unpleasant face. His eyes were a pale green but held none of the sharp, assessing intelligence she had noticed in Lucas’s darker eyes.

She would have been satisfied with a man like Lord Greenock had she never met Lucas. But now? She could not summon up a glimmer of attraction.

Oh, Lucas.

She missed him terribly, even though it had only been a matter of days since they last saw each other.

She did not expect him to call upon them since her father had seen fit to send him off to Glasgow for the week. The reason given was the shipbuilding contracts, but it also served the purpose of keeping the two of them apart. “Thank you, Lord Greenock. Would you care for tea?”

“Certainly.” He offered his arm and escorted her to a set of chairs in a quieter corner of the parlor in order for them to speak in private and get to know each other better. All was proper, for they had a small table between them to maintain a suitable distance.

She had been eager to meet him, if only to show her father how ill-matched they were to each other. However, she had promised to keep an open mind. It was obvious almost from the start they were not a good fit.

She tried to like him, truly.

There were little things she noticed about him almost immediately that she found irksome. His manner was surprisingly snide. He took it upon himself to comment upon the other guests and seemed to enjoy finding fault with them. He was so condescending and disdainful, it rankled. “Do not get too friendly with Lord MacRaine’s daughter,” he warned, tossing a glance in the direction of a pretty blonde who seemed quite amiable.

“What is wrong with Sally MacRaine?” They had been introduced shortly before Lord Greenock’s arrival and had taken to each other at once. They were about the same age and quickly discovered they liked many things in common. Sally also had a wry wit that Beatrix enjoyed. “Why should I not encourage our acquaintance?”

“She is not good society.” He sprawled back in his chair and stretched his legs out, as though he owned this patch of the parlor. Nor did he so much as bat an eyelash when one of the serving maids almost tripped over his big feet.

Beatrix jumped up to help steady the girl’s tray. “Martha, are you all right? Here, let me help you with those cups.”

But the maid shook her head. “I am fine, Lady Beatrix. It was clumsy of me. Ye enjoy yer company. I’ll be more careful.”

“See that ye are,” Lord Greenock said, still not budging his big feet out of the way.

Beatrix smiled at the woman apologetically before returning to her seat and forcing herself not to hit Greenock over the head with the nearest vase. “We were speaking of Lord MacRaine’s daughter,” she said, resuming their conversation. “In what possible way is she poor company and unsuitable to be my friend?”

“You are her better. I am surprised Lady MacGlory accepted to be home to that family. They are uncouth Highlanders whose wealth is derived from the woolen trade. Her father grew up in the gatekeeper’s cottage of a rundown castle somewhere north of Inverness. It remains little more than a pile of stones atop a hill. No doubt, most of their clan slept in the great hall back in their rebellious days. Her mother’s bloodstock is little better. They have no important connections.”

“They were invited into my father’s home. Is that not connection enough? They seem polite and amiable to me.”

“It isn’t a question of that. Their daughter will never be presented at Court. The father mucks around with his sheep all day and speaks of little else. His wife supervises the sheep shearing.”

Beatrix arched an eyebrow. “That is criminal, indeed.”

He was not so dense as to overlook her sarcasm. “You think I am insufferable and full of myself.”

She tried to respond with a polite denial, but her blush gave her away. “You do seem rather opinionated.”

“All Scots are,” he said, casting her a wry smile. “Ye’ll learn that in time. But ye’ll also learn that life is harsh up north, and our quieter society is not to everyone’s liking.”

“Including yours. I’ve heard you are often in London.”

He nodded. “In truth, I hate it up here. There is little to do other than raise cattle, catch fish, or listen to the interminable wail of bagpipes that passes for music in these parts. They were originally meant to scare off the enemy in battle. Now they are merely annoying.”

She could not imagine Lucas ever speaking so disrespectfully of anything Scottish.

Greenock was not finished venting his spleen. “The land is harsh and not suitable for growing much. The women are bred for hardiness, not beauty. There is no’ a Scotswoman alive who could match ye in that regard.”

“I see several right in this room who are easily as pretty.” She was not saying this to be contrary. It was true. Sally MacRaine was lovely and not the only guest with a pleasant smile and a friendly disposition. In fact, there were several pretty, young women seated beside Sally, all of them presently chatting with Lottie and Aunt Harriet.

There was also one beautiful young woman who had just arrived and seemed to capture everyone’s attention. She carried herself with an air of confidence, as though used to men falling at her feet. Well, she was stunning…but she knew it, and that made her less attractive in Beatrix’s eyes. “Lord Greenock, who is the redhead looking over at us now?”

“Ye dinna know?” He cast her a smile that was surprisingly snide and triumphant. “That is Lady Marjorie Cunningham. Lord Lyon’s betrothed.”

Beatrix felt the breath rush out of her. “Lord Lyon claims there is nothing between them.”

“And you believe him?” He gave her chin a gentle tweak. “Silly little goose.”

She wanted to punch him.

She wanted to punch Lucas, too.

Had he been lying to her all this time?

Was it wrong of her to detest Lady Marjorie before they had ever been properly introduced?

She forced a smile when they were presented to each other moments later. “I understand ye have met my Lord Lyon,” she said, eyeing Beatrix like a wolf might eye a juicy rabbit. Yes, this is what the young woman was, hungry and predatory.

“I know him quite well. He escorted Lady Rochester and me to Edinburgh.”

Why could Marjorie not have set her marital sights on Lord Greenock? He was a marquess, after all. Was he not considered the better catch?

But she seemed to dismiss him. “Abel,” she said with surprising familiarity, “do be a dear and give us a moment alone to get acquainted.”

He was not pleased but did not protest.

Marjorie’s claws came out the moment they were left to chat alone. “Did he kiss ye?”

Beatrix was appalled by the question. “I beg your pardon? Are you referring to Lord Greenock? What business is it of yours?”

“Greenock is an inoffensive dolt. Ye know who I mean.” Her eyes bore into Beatrix. “I can see it on yer face. He did kiss ye. I am sure ye liked it. Did he tell ye that nonsense about ye being the only lass he would ever love? He is very good at spouting those lies. Very believable. I suppose this is why he is yer father’s best negotiator. He’s shrewd and manipulative.”

Beatrix’s heart began to pound riotously. “If he is so wicked, then why would you accept to marry him? Assuming the rumors are true.”

Marjorie’s laugh almost sounded like a cackle. “Because he and I are alike. This is why we are drawn to each other. We understand each other. Plus, he is very good in bed, as ye likely know. Or has he not taken his seduction of ye that far yet?”

She truly felt ill. “Excuse me, but I believe Lady MacGlory is calling me over. I wish I could say it has been a pleasure to meet you, but it has not been.”

She darted away, intending to make her way out of the parlor and into their garden. She needed to take several deep breaths of the bracing air to calm herself. But someone had followed her out.

She turned, expecting to find Lord Greenock, but relieved to see Sally MacRaine instead. “Oh, Lady Beatrix. What did that witch say to you?”

Beatrix tried to sound unaffected; however, Marjorie’s words had deeply unsettled her. She swallowed hard and shook her head. “That woman is quite awful, isn’t she?”

Sally nodded. “The worst.”

“She said I was merely a game for Lord Lyon, that he was only trying to seduce me.”

“Please do not believe a word of what she says. She has been chasing Lucas for years. He wants nothing to do with her.”

“I see you know him quite well, too. Has he…forgive me, Miss MacRaine. But is he someone special to you?”

“Please call me Sally. I hope that is all right with ye because I think we might become quite good friends. The answer to yer question is no, he is not special to me. Nor am I anything to him. Our families have been friendly for years. I know all the Lyon boys…well, they are men now. Excellent men. Honorable and true. There is no one finer than Lucas. If he spoke words of love to ye, then he meant them.”

Beatrix nodded. “Thank you, Sally. Please call me Beatrix. My head is spinning. I am trying to sort out all the lies. So many have been tossed at me today.”

She nodded. “Aye, Lord Greenock has no doubt been hurling his self-serving tripe. I should not tell ye this because it is only ugly rumor…”

She grabbed Sally’s hand. “What have you heard? Please do tell.”

“Well, Lord Greenock is supposedly in debt up to his eyeballs. Yer father is holding his notes. But he has agreed to forgive all his debts if he will marry ye. This is why that pompous marquess is so eager for yer hand in marriage. Ye are never going to shake his resolve, so dinna bother to try. He will be ruined unless he marries ye.”

“Or he finds himself an heiress.”

Sally laughed. “I am wealthy. Would it not be a jolly jest if he were to end up married to a MacRaine? It would almost be worth it to see him squirm in utter humiliation. That man deserves to have his bollocks in a crunch.”

“Sally!”

Her new friend rolled her eyes. “We speak plainly up here. Forgive me. I forgot ye were raised in London society.”

Beatrix shook her head. “I far prefer your plain-speaking ways. But do you mean it about Lord Greenock? You would have him?”

“He is such a dolt, isn’t he? But…surprisingly, yes. I would if he agreed to marry me. It will no’ happen. He will no’ even look at me until he is certain he has lost ye. Then he might hold his nose and offer for me. The only thing he considers worse than marrying a MacRaine is the abhorrent possibility of having to live the rest of his life in poverty. It would not be such a bad bargain for me. I would become a marchioness.”

Beatrix’s eyes rounded in surprise. This was plain talk indeed. Also quite interesting, for it could provide a way out of her situation without her father blaming her. “Sally, tell me truly. Do you care for him?”

“He is so smug and condescending. However, I will not deny he is very pleasing on the eyes. Would you think less of me if I told you I did like him? I think we would make fine children together, assuming he could stand to be in my company that long. Although I don’t suppose it takes more than a few minutes to…well, innocent young ladies such as ourselves are not supposed to know about these things.”

She nodded. “I don’t know anything about that .”

“I don’t know much either,” Sally admitted. “But we live on a farm, and there are animals everywhere. Ye should see what goes on in the meadows at certain times of the year. I don’t suppose men are all that different from rams or bulls.”

Beatrix burst out laughing. “Then I think I must visit you during your cattle mating season.”

Sally laughed with her. “Ye will certainly get an education. Come back inside, Beatrix. This is yer home, and that horrid Lady Marjorie should not be chasing ye out of it. Nor should ye worry about Greenock. He’s a bit of a horse’s rump, but he’s not evil like that witch. I am certain I can salvage him.”

The afternoon passed much more pleasantly after her chat with Sally.

She confided in Lady Rochester later that evening, after they had returned from a recital held at a lovely church in St. Giles. Lord Greenock had escorted them and afterward joined them for supper at their home.

Her father took enormous pleasure in seeing her chatting amiably with the marquess. Obviously, he had been chosen for her precisely because he was a bit of a dolt. Her father wanted to be sure she would never fall madly, desperately in love with her husband and endure the same unbearable pain of loss he still felt.

Well, he would not be happy with her once she and Sally put their plan into effect.

Knowing she would never be married to this man also allowed her to see him in a kinder light. Sally’s assessment of him had been correct. Given the right wife, he might make a good husband.

She was not that wife.

But Sally? Yes, she could do it.

Her father mistook her interest in the marquess and was more pleasant at the supper table than she had ever seen him. He actually gave her a heartfelt hug and kissed her before she retired for the night.

Perhaps she ought to have said something to him then, but she wanted to savor his embrace. When had he ever shown her this depth of feeling? He was a man so twisted with anguish and unable to get out of the past, that he could not see how badly he was hurting those closest to him.

It saddened her to think his affection was fleeting.

He would be so angry once Lucas returned to Edinburgh and their confrontation took place. Not a confrontation between him and Lucas.

She meant to fight her own battle.

This confrontation would be between her and her father.

She did not immediately return to her room but knocked at Aunt Harriet’s door. “May I talk to you?”

Her aunt drew her in. “Of course, my dear. In truth, I have been expecting you.”

Beatrix was surprised. “You have?”

“Yes, child. What is it you wish to confide in me?”

She settled on the settee in her aunt’s grand chamber and quickly told her everything she and Sally had discussed.

“I knew Lord Lyon was no hound,” she said with a nod of her head. “Given time and experience, a woman learns to tell the good men from the knaves. Well, let your father’s nonsense play out. Lord Lyon will put an end to it once he is assured you return his feelings. Goodness gracious, there were such sparks between the two of you while we rode north. I am amazed the carriage did not catch fire.”

“Then you believe he truly does care for me?”

“He adores you.” She patted Beatrix’s cheek. “That man will not let you go. Now I think we have said all that needs to be said tonight. The hour is late, and I need my beauty rest.”

“Thank you, Aunt Harriet. I’m sorry I kept you up.”

“Nonsense, I would be hurt if you didn’t. You can always talk to me, no matter the hour and no matter the problem. Sweet dreams, child.”

She threw her arms around her aunt. “I love you. I don’t think I’ve told you this often enough.”

Tears formed in her aunt’s eyes as she hugged her back. “It is always nice to hear it, but I never doubted your feelings for me or Lord Rochester. You have always been a devoted and loving child to us. I will never forget how wonderful you were to me when he passed away.”

A lump formed in Beatrix’s throat. “He was more of a father than my own. I just want you to know how much I appreciate you and all you have done for me.”

She gave her aunt another hug and retired to her quarters.

She climbed into bed and curled up with her arms around the pillow, pretending it was Lucas.

This day had gone surprisingly well.

She was tired, but sleep still eluded her.

Her mind was in a whirl.

Lady Fraser’s ball, one of the most anticipated events of the Edinburgh summer, was to take place the day after tomorrow. Her father was pressing her for an answer to Lord Greenock’s proposal and had given her until then to accept.

Of course, her decision was made.

She would refuse him.

What would her father do then?