Chapter 11
Walking arm in arm through Leadenhall Market in the heart of Mile Square with her cousin Cassia, the rest of their female cousins and sisters close behind, Linnie slanted the cheerfully singing woman a disapproving look.
“You do know you’ve cursed us all,” she muttered.
Cassia immediately ceased singing, which was really more of a caterwaul. “I’ve done no such thing.”
“Haven’t you, Cassia?” She gave her a pointed look. “Haven’t you?”
“She has,” Meghan said helpfully from behind her.
Cousin Myrtle added a defense for her sister. “She meant well.”
“That does not mean we aren’t forever cursed because of it.”
Troubled murmurs filled the group.
“We do not break with tradition,” Linnie whispered furiously.
“I . . . This one time . . .”
“That’s how traditions work, Cousin Cassia,” Andromena said sadly.
“Yes, see?” Linnie exclaimed and turned back to gesture at the smaller girl. “Even Andromena understands that.”
Both referenced McQuoid-Smiths took immediate affront.
“I beg pardon?” Andromena demanded.
“Beg pardon,” Cassia said, frowning. “See, now you’ve gone and offended Andromena, too.”
“I’m sorry, Cousin Cassia.” The younger girl skipped over. “You shan’t sway me to your side. I’m still cross with you.”
Cassia sighed. “It was worth a try.”
“How could you invite him on our McQuoid-Smith Women Outing?” Andromena bemoaned. “At that, it is my first, and there are no mothers present.”
“And we all know precisely why Mama and Aunt Leslie decided to remain behind,” Fleur, entirely too insightful for her years, put in.
“Because of Culross,” Andromena muttered. “Bloody Culross.”
“And Linnie,” Fleur pointed out.
Linnie stopped so quickly the kin following closest at her heels stumbled into her and Cassia, causing a collision at the back of the line, too.
She frowned at her disloyal younger cousin. “My fault?”
Around them, barkers at the market hawked their wares, and peddlers of various items clustered around the suddenly stopped McQuoid-Smiths to attempt to sell some frippery or another.
“Not your fault by choice,” Cousin Cassia said in a soothing way.
Fleur nodded. “Precisely. It’s not directly your fault, but the fact remains, Aunt Leslie, my mother, and Arran are determined to marry you off to you-know-who.”
Mortified heat filled Linnie’s cheeks and threatened to set her on fire.
“And as such, it is your fault indirectly, because Mama and Aunt Leslie want you to marry him.”
“You do know he can hear us,” Meghan reminded in her usual beleaguered tones.
As one, the ladies all looked back to the lone gentleman of their group, some two paces behind their sextuplet.
Lord Culross grinned. “I fear she is right. I am privy to the very serious discussion taking place.”
“Do you know how he wouldn’t be privy to it?” Andromena muttered. “If he hadn’t been invited.”
Another bevy of glares landed on Cassia.
“I heard that, too,” Lord Culross called.
With it now clear the gaggle of ladies blocking the middle of the cobblestone market thoroughfare had no intentions—yet—to make any purchases, the peddlers went off, calling their wares out to other potential customers.
Linnie shot the earl an apologetic glance. “I am sorry, Lord Culross.”
He doffed his Regent top hat. “No apologies necessary.”
“Oh, there certainly are,” Andromena mumbled. “But not because of anything you’ve done, Linnie.”
Poor Lord Culross found himself the recipient of darker glowers than those previously heaped upon Cassia.
To the gentleman’s credit, he took it all in great stride, and with a smile.
Just as he’d smiled all through dinner.
His grin was infectious, and it was nigh impossible not to grin in return . . . which grated.
She didn’t want him to make her smile, and she most certainly did not want to like him.
In an unlikely show of leadership, Cassia put her gloved fingers to her lips and blew the McQuoid-Smith family whistle.
As one, cousins and sisters alike formed a circle around her.
Lord Culross, taking the cue, made to join the gathering.
Oh, dear.
Linnie caught the gentleman’s eye and shook her head in a bid to save him from further wrath.
Alas, it was too late. His folly, already committed, was promptly met with a staggered chorus from the circle of women.
“No.”
“Absolutely not.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry, you’re not included.” Cassia’s more gracious reply was largely drowned out by the bevy of nays.
“Are you daft?”
At Andromena’s harshest of rejections, Linnie shot an elbow against the younger girl’s side.
“Ow!” Her youngest sister glared. “You’d hit me and not the one who’s cursed us forevermore, until the end of time—”
“Those mean the same thing,” Meghan scolded tiredly.
“You are being unpardonably rude,” Linnie said to Andromena.
“Why do you care when you don’t even like him?” her hoyden of a sister snapped. “Heaven forefend, the only reason you were running around outside that night was to avoid meeting Cu—”
“Shopping,” Cassia and Myrtle shouted over the rest of Andromena’s accurate charge.
Oh, hell. Linnie’s toes curled up and she studiously avoided Lord Culross’s gaze.
The gentleman had proven . . . nice enough, and perhaps under other circumstances—any that didn’t involve her cousin attempting to forge an alliance to benefit his shipping business when it should have been Jeremy whom Arran partnered with—she might have considered an arrangement.
Cassia gave her hands a smart clap. “We are standing here bickering when what we should be doing is shopping for Christmastide gifts!”
And that did the proverbial trick. It managed to shift the entire group of McQuoid-Smith women’s attention to the very favorite pastime of shopping.
Each lady began partnering off, joining arms with the respective family member they usually paired with.
Linnie attempted to link her elbow with Cassia, but with an obvious alacrity, her favorite—or once-favorite—cousin looped hers with Myrtle’s, which left Linnie with the only other remaining person without a partner.
Hell.
While the rest of her traitorous kin hastened off, singing and laughing and chattering, Linnie looked to the last McQuoid-Smith standing—a person who happened to be neither female nor a McQuoid or Smith.
The ever-smiling Lord Culross held his arm out.
Drat and double drat.
Linnie forced herself to return that smile. She hesitated a moment and approached the captain.
When she reached Lord Culross, Linnie reluctantly made to place her palm upon his sleeve.
Her fingers hovered, dancing in the air.
She stood there, torn between her devotion to Jeremy and guilt at being rude to a gentleman who really bore no blame for any of this.
She chewed at her lower lip. In allowing him to squire her about the Christmas market and not hating him—nay, actually liking him a tiny smidge—enjoying his company and letting him take part in a family tradition, she betrayed Jeremy.
Jeremy Tremaine had been part of every tradition except those the McQuoid-Smith gentlemen were expressly prohibited from being part of.
Linnie cocked her head.
Not that Jeremy had ever wanted to go or, for that matter, would wish to be here shopping.
The fact that Jeremy hadn’t ever been included in the affair while Lord Culross, whom the McQuoid-Smiths hardly knew, had been invited, was really the principle.
Perhaps she should suggest they join Meghan. Lord knew Cassia and Myrtle hadn’t been of any help.
The earl leaned down and placed his lips near her ear. “I fear the curse may in fact be very real,” he whispered. His breath, a soft sough that tickled her nape, bore the sweet hint of lemon drops and candied pineapple he’d playfully pilfered from Oleander and Quillon.
“M-my lord?” she said, her voice breathless, not because her body responded to his nearness. Nay, it was just that he spoke near a particularly sensitive—
Liar. For some reason, her senses were attuned to this man. She cursed his charm, but not more than she cursed herself.
Lord Culross flashed a puckish grin. Her self-flagellation had no impact on the fluttering inside.
“The curse,” he reminded. Because, God help her, the dashing captain knew the truth Linnie fought—his effect upon her.
The earl shifted his lips ever closer so that, when he spoke, they brushed the shell of her ear.
Her breath quickened.
“With my arm extended for so long, it’s begun to lose sensation, and I suspect the use altogether.” His teasing words penetrated the hated fog.
Her cheeks afire, Linnie hurriedly laid her palm upon his elbow.
As Linnie and Lord Culross began their stroll through the market, awkwardness accompanied them in the form of stilted silence—a silence made all the more noticeable by the din of market sounds.
Never had she been nervous in Jeremy’s company. With Jeremy, everything felt . . . right.
The growing impasse grew so great, Linnie couldn’t take it anymore. “I would like to assure you, my lord, that isn’t how McQuoid-Smith curses work.”
“You’re saying there is more than one curse plaguing your family.”
“Oh, yes,” she confirmed.
She and Lord Culross navigated around a sizable puddle, parting ways on either side and coming back together when they’d put the hazard behind them.
“But only if certain traditions or customs are broken,” she explained like they’d never been separated. “And as you are not a McQuoid or Smith, you may rest assured you are safe for now.”
Realizing too late what she’d said, Linnie blanched. “Not to say you will be part of the family,” she said, tripping over her words as she tried to correct her blunder. “Or even that you want to be. What I’m saying . . . I hadn’t meant—” And then she tripped over her own two feet.
In fairness, a jutting cobblestone sent her pitching.
Lord Culross caught Linnie quickly and steadied her against his body.
They stood face-to-face amidst the bustling market, while the world happened around them. “I would,” he said quietly.