Chapter Sixteen
Edward threw himself into a large chair by the fire and, without hesitation, Ewan claimed the other at his side. This was a man’s chair. It would not crumble beneath him. Also, there was a decanter of brandy at his elbow. He blew out a sigh.
Edward poured them both a drink without asking.
“So... That was Sophia?”
Ewan nodded. Took a healthy gulp.
“I begin to comprehend your passion. She’s quite lovely.”
“She is. She deserves nothing but the very best. Your Grace—”
The duke snorted. “Call me Edward.”
“Edward then. Thank you for honoring your promise.”
Moncrieff’s brow notched up. “I always honor my promises.” Though it was not inferred in his tone, a flush crawled up Ewan’s neck at the reminder he had been less than honorable in his dealings with this family.
He stared into the fire, hunting for something to say. Finally he thought of something. It was bland and inane but it would fill the silence. “I hear you married Kaitlin. Congratulations.”
Edward nodded. The sound he made might have been a sigh. “I was rather pleased to learn you had not debauched her.” Ewan’s bowels churned. No. He had not debauched Kaitlin. He’d been too busy ruining Violet to get around to it. “By the way, how’s your cheek?”
Ewan rubbed his jawline. “Hardly a twinge anymore.”
“Sorry about that. It’s just, when she came down those stairs wearing nothing but your shirt and a blanket, I lost my mind.”
“No need to apologize, Edward.” Ewan raked his hair. He’d deserved it. “I-I feel the need to apologize as well.”
Moncrieff raised a patrician brow. “Do you? For what? Kidnapping Violet—”
“That was not I. Callum MacAllister—”
“Or holding her in that wretched keep? Or strong-arming Kaitlin into an unwanted betrothal. Or...was there anything else?”
Hell yes. There was.
“For all of it. I was a desperate man. I regret any harm I’ve caused.”
“Hmm.” Edward refilled their glasses and they sipped in silence. “On that note...” Ewan’s pulse kicked up a notch as Edward picked up the thread of the conversation. “What did happen between you and Violet while she was at the Cloud?”
He nearly spilled his drink. “Did-did she say anything?”
Edward pinned him with a sharp stare. “She’s told us nothing. But if she did, what would she say?”
“Why do you ask?”
Moncrieff shrugged. “She’s just not been herself since she came back.”
Concern skirled through him. “What do you mean, not herself?”
A shrug. “She’s listless. Quiet. Stares off into space at dinner. Sighs a lot. Granted, the house is more peaceful without her mischief—when the boys aren’t lighting fires in the garret. But she’s a far cry from her old self. Kaitlin is worried.”
Ewan slumped in his chair and steepled his fingers, brooding. The prospect that Violet languished over her ordeal, over their encounters at the Cloud, tore at his heart. He rather hoped she would remember him fondly, if she thought of him at all. “Do you think she’s ill?”
Moncrieff barked a laugh. “Ill? Does that sound like an illness you’ve ever heard of?” His gaze sharpened until Ewan felt like a bug pinned to a wall. “I think she’s pining.”
“Pining?”
“Is there any reason she would be pining?”
Hell. Ewan tried desperately not to squirm. “Not that I... I don’t... She... We...” Hell.
Edward shot him a simmering glance. “I thought as much.” He tossed back his drink and stood. “Do I need to ask for satisfaction?”
Ewan blanched. He leapt to his feet as well. “S-satisfaction? Are you challenging me to a duel?” Why his voice squeaked on the word, he had no clue.
“Do I need to?”
“Might I remind you, duels are illegal in England.”
“When has something as inconsequential as the law ever stopped you?”
Ewan’s mouth opened but an appropriate retort escaped him. So he snapped it shut.
“Don’t get me wrong, McCloud. Of all the men in the world I would choose for Violet, you are far from my first choice. But if she has tender feelings for you... If what I suspect happened between the two of you in Scotland did happen, you will offer for her.”
Every fiber of Ewan’s being seized. His mind went blank.
Was he being ordered by a peer of the realm to marry the only woman on earth he wanted to hold in his arms?
He knew it was an impossibility—hell, she hated him, after all, and, after all, he was a foul lowlife—but he couldn’t still the thrill that scoured through his veins at the thought.
His voice was ragged when he responded, “She willna have me.”
Edward stilled. “You don’t deny it then?”
“I canna. I also canna deny I am in love with her.”
Ah. That took Moncrieff aback. “You-you’re in love with her?” This he sputtered on a laugh.
“Utterly.” He scrubbed his face. “And she despises me.”
“I suspect she does not despise you.”
Ewan leveled him with a frown. “I am hardly refined. She deserves a gentleman at the very least.”
“We can polish your edges.”
Ewan snorted. “I have very rough edges.”
“Have you met Aunt Hortense? She turned me from a degenerate rake into a devoted husband. Surely she can turn a Scottish brigand into a well-trained house pup.”
Ewan wasn’t sure he cared for such a fate. But hell, if Edward was offering to help him win Violet, he would do whatever it took. “All right. But it may take time to...woo her.”
Edward seemed less than pleased. “I will expect an offer by the end of the season. But know this, McCloud. If you so much as bruise that girl’s heart—I will kill you.”
Ewan didn’t doubt him for an instant. He was hardly that big a fool.
But it wasn’t trepidation dancing in his soul. It was hope.
Blissful, glorious, glittering hope.
It wasn’t even shattered when Edward added as an afterthought, “Oh, and don’t tell Ned you despoiled his sister. If he finds out, he will shoot you.”
When Ewan arrived at William’s townhouse, where he planned to stay for the duration, he found his friend in residence.
He greeted him with surprise and not a small fraction of pleasure.
Truth be told, he’d felt a little bereft driving away from Wyeth House all alone and wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of spending the next three months in his own company.
William clapped him on the shoulder and led him into the library. “Welcome to London, my friend,” he said with a wide grin.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
William shrugged and poured them both a drink. “I wasn’t planning on coming when I offered you the house but then some business...arose.” He slanted a glance in Ewan’s direction. “I hope you don’t mind my presence?”
“Not at all. In fact I think I might appreciate seeing a friendly face now and again.”
Gray eyes glittered with humor. “Was it that bad?”
Ewan blew out a breath. “Worse.”
“Moncrieff was an ass then?”
“Not a bit of it. He was actually quite cordial. Once I apologized.”
William barked a laugh. “Never say it. The indomitable McCloud? Groveling for forgiveness?”
“Hardly groveling.”
“Still, a sight many a man would pay to see.”
“Thankfully it was a private conversation.”
William lifted his glass. “Small favors.”
“Aye.”
“So what are the plans for the season?”
“Apparently I shall be spending a lot of money.”
William threw back his head and laughed again. “I could have told you that.”
“There’s to be a party and a debut ball. I’ve been instructed to attend dinner tonight to discuss the details of those.”
“Instructed?” A tawny brow winged upward. “By whom?”
“Hortense Bigby.”
“Never heard of her.”
“She’s Moncrieff’s aunt and the general in charge of this assault.”
“You say that in jest, my friend, but you have no idea how fierce these tonnish harpies can be.”
“I have no idea about any of this.” It was true. Discomfort—that horrible sense of being completely out of his element—prickled at his nape.
“Not to worry. I shall coach you. Don’t gape at me so. My father is a baron and a member of the House of Lords. I’ve been through all this before.”
“Your father is a member of Parliament?” Good God. When he thought of all the mischief he and William had gotten into together, his blood went cold.
William just laughed. “The expression on your face is priceless. Yes. My father is a member of Parliament. But I, good sir, am the black sheep of the family. Nevertheless, I should be able to give you some pointers. I take it you can arrange an invitation to the soirees for me?”
“Yes. Certainly.” At least he assumed he could.
“Excellent. Now,” he rubbed his hands together, “where shall we begin?”
“You look beautiful, Violet.” Kaitlin’s voice was a balm, soothing and soft.
But still, all Violet wanted to do was run away from the girl in the mirror, the girl decked out in a gorgeous white gown laced with dazzling stones, with her hair arranged in an exquisite knot at the top of her head.
She wanted to run away and burrow in the covers of her bed.
She set her palm to her belly, trying to ease the churning there. “I don’t see why I need to attend Sophia’s party.” This, a whisper. But Kaitlin heard.
“Silly girl.” Her friend softened the words with a smile.
Kaitlin was breathtaking as well. She wore an exquisite burgundy-and-gold gown—the Moncrieff colors.
Diamonds winked in her ears and around her neck.
She looked...like a duchess. “It’s your coming out as well.
” They had decided to combine debuts for the two girls although, in truth, most of the attendees would be there purely to get a glimpse of the new Duchess of Moncrieff.
Judging from the responses they’d received, tonight would be a crush. Violet was dreading it.
The past two weeks had been a whirl of fittings and teas. There had been dancing lessons for Sophia and ceaseless visits to the mantua-makers and milliners. An endless parade of appointments and meetings and lectures from Aunt Hortense.
Of Ewan, she’d seen nothing.
And she was happy about that. She was.