Chapter 16
Linnie hadn’t attended Day After Christmas Breakfast, as it was not so cleverly titled.
She hadn’t been able to face the entire McQuoid-Smith brood at the table, for fear that they’d act as though Jeremy Tremaine hadn’t returned last evening to her family home, where he’d shown her even more of the exquisite bliss to be had in his arms.
Though she sought to reunify their family and the Tremaines, the fact remained that, aside from Linnie, the McQuoid-Smiths now saw Jeremy as a mortal enemy.
Alas, having delayed the inevitable as long as possible, Linnie started her slow descent of the main stairway.
Andromena and Fleur caught sight of her first.
The young girl threw her arms up. “At last.”
All gazes went flying up to meet Linnie.
“Finally,” her brother groused alongside their cousins.
The lone unperturbed member of their party, Lord Culross stepped forward the moment Linnie reached the foyer with a smile and held out his elbow.
“Ah, but look at my Linnie and how lovely she is, Lord Culross,” Mama cooed when Linnie reached her gathered family. “Well worth the wait, isn’t she nah-ow?” Linnie’s mother blinked in confusion. “Linnie, did you just pinch me?”
Linnie managed to stretch her lips into a smile. “Whyever would I”—not—“do that?”
Lord Culross rescued them all from the awkwardness of the exchange. “Indeed, Mrs. Smith, your daughter is—as always—a vision.”
“A vision who requires a million minutes more to ready herself,” Quillon muttered.
With the earl’s attention switched to her grumbling little cousin, Linnie stuck her tongue out.
“Ah, Master McQuoid, but as it was once written, ‘When people are waiting, they are bad judges of time, and every half minute seems like five.’”
Linnie stilled. Sighs went up from all the McQuoid-Smith ladies.
“Who in hell said that?” Campbell asked the room at large.
“Jane Austen,” Lord Culross explained at the exact same moment Linnie, Myrtle, Cassia, Andy, Fleur, and the Duke of Aragon—a shocking devotee of Ms. Austen’s literary works—did.
And the Earl of Curloss not only knew of Austen’s works, he’d read them?
Yes, it was a certainty. If she weren’t head over heels in love with Jeremy, she could have very well lost her heart to this one.
Alas, her heart knew the one it wished to be joined with forever.
The family was loaded off into the small army of carriages waiting outside, and Linnie didn’t believe Lord Culross’s being assigned to hers was any sort of coincidence. Her family members were embarrassingly obvious and bad in their collective scheming.
Fortunately, Meghan caught Linnie’s expression and rescued her from the role of lead conversationalist.
While her sister peppered the earl with questions about everything from Mrs. Austen’s literary works to life at sea, Linnie felt Lord Culross’s gaze continue to come back her way.
They arrived at Hyde Park, and as the McQuoid-Smiths all carried on through the snow with brisk steps and strides, Lord Culross lingered so he might walk with Linnie.
Meghan, wearing a strained expression, lingered at her side.
Her sister had already done all she could. Linnie favored her with a smile.
With the reluctance of a loyal sister, Meghan hesitated before finally shuffling on ahead, leaving Linnie and Lord Culross alone.
The earl extended his elbow. “Linnie.”
Something in his tone gave her pause. Nay, not just tone, but rather in the way he cast her name as a command not to be defied. Since he’d caught sight of Linnie in the foyer, his expression had become shuttered, and the gentleman seemed harder and more reserved.
He arched a cool eyebrow.
Unnerved as she’d never been around him, Linnie had to force herself to place her fingers at his sleeve.
They followed at a more sedate pace behind the family.
“You truly do look lovely, Linnie,” he remarked, picking up on their last exchange in the foyer like it had been a moment and not a lengthy carriage ride since. “Particularly in that fetching bonnet.”
Her muscles constricted. “Thank you, Lord Culross.”
“August.”
“I only refer to you so when we are on friendly terms, my lord,” she said stiffly.
He grinned. “Aren’t we?” A biting edge in the earl’s voice erased the teasing quality.
Oh, while he’d entertained Meghan and Fleur on the carriage ride, he’d been the epitome of charming. As for Linnie, he’d been anything but.
Linnie flattened her lips. “I don’t like this side of you, my lord.” Her entire heart belonged to Captain Jeremy Tremaine, but that did not mean she didn’t enjoy the earl’s company. On the contrary.
He forced them to a stop. “Perhaps that’s because I’m not feeling particularly friendly, Linnie.” His eyes contained a hard glint she’d have not believed him capable of.
“I’ve offended you,” Linnie said stiffly. She dropped a curtsy. “I do not wish to cause you further distress by suffering my company any longer.”
He shot a hand out.
Linnie gasped.
August wrapped powerful fingers around her upper arm and held her in a punishingly possessive hold. Her heart pounded. This animalistic side to him continued to prove how little she knew of him.
“My lord.” She looked pointedly at where he held her.
The earl ignored her taciturn request for release.
“Do you believe I’m distressed when I’m with you, darling?” His husky murmur was at odds with the steely hardness and heat of his eyes. He pulled her closer, so their chests brushed. “How can you not possibly know I’m suffering because of your silence toward me, Linnie? You are pushing me away.”
A feeling of overall heaviness settled over her.
“I did not mean . . . I did not . . .” She’d not intentionally put up the barrier between them. After being with Jeremy last night—and all the times before—every thought in her head, every beat of her heart, belonged to him. As such, she’d not intentionally hurt August.
“I have an interesting story about the bonnet you are wearing, Linnie,” he said.
The breakneck way in which he switched topics knocked her off course, which was no doubt his intention.
From the corner of the article in question, Linnie stole a peek. She frantically searched his face for a hint of what he was saying. Because she didn’t believe for a moment that his comment about her hat was to be a casual compliment.
She eyed her jubilant family on ahead of them. “Do you intend to tell me this amusing story?”
“In what way did you get the impression mine was an amusing one?”
In a moment of sisterly presentiment, Meghan cast a glance back toward Linnie—who yearned to join her.
Lord Culross spoke, forcing Linnie to remain in this stickily uncomfortable moment. “After I was tugged away by your sisters yesterday, I went in search of a gift for you. They were considering various ribbons from one vendor, when I happened to find you in a milliner’s tent.”
A heavy feeling settled in her stomach. It was a moment before she realized her fingers had formed a talonlike grip upon Lord Culross’s arm. She made herself relax them.
“You were admiring that bonnet, as enrapt by the old hat, Linnie, as any another woman would be with the Black Prince’s Ruby.” He sounded rueful over that fact.
To her, the bonnet carried a far greater weight than the entire Imperial State Crown that 170-carat spinel centered upon.
“Come, August,” she said in a playful attempt to bring them back to a place where they were smiles and easy chatter. “It cannot be both an old hat and fetching?”
“It can as long as you are wearing it,” he said quietly and so truthfully that her heart cinched.
Lord Culross—August—forced them to stop and brought her around to face him.
He caught the long ends of her lavender satin ribbons and stroked them with a deep veneration. “You looked so deeply in love with that damned bonnet, Linnie.” A wry chuckle left him. “Hell, I never knew before then I could be jealous of an inanimate object.”
His angular features grew serious once more, and he set to refastening her ties.
As he took his time completing that most intimate of tasks, Linnie fought to keep from trembling. God forgive her, she couldn’t sort out what accounted for her reaction. Guilt? Regret? Her body’s awareness of him as a commanding, dashing gentleman? Or . . . everything combined?
When he finished forming the perfect bow just under her chin, August remained with his hand there. Then he proceeded to run the tops of his gloved fingers along her throat in a lingeringly gentle caress.
“I snuck off before you could see me standing there,” he said matter-of-factly.
His admission, which became a realization, penetrated the bewildering effect left by his light touch.
“You left.” She exhaled those two syllables.
Desire flared in his eyes.
He’d mistaken the reason for Linnie’s breathlessness at his touch, but her relief proved too great to care. He’d not seen her and Jeremy!
August dusted the pad of his thumb over her tremulous lips. “I did, mon amour,” he said silkily. “After I’d escorted you and your sisters and cousins home, I returned to the milliner. I intended to purchase the bonnet for you.”
A prickling ran along the back of her nape. She already knew how his search had ended. “H-how kind of you.”
“It would have been kind”—he paused—“were I, in fact, able to purchase the gift for you. Alas, someone stole a march on me.”
Linnie’s eyes, of their own volition, slid briefly shut.
“Oh,” she said weakly.
The earl tweaked her nose, but there was nothing teasingly flirtatious about the gesture. All hints of August’s earlier and usual warmth were gone; his features had turned to stone, and his light touch read more as an order for Linnie to look him in the eye.
“The old shopkeeper was regretful he no longer had the hat to sell. He did, on one hand, prove incredibly helpful and garrulous in sharing about the lucky fellow who’d arrived before me.”
Her stomach plummeted. She’d not known exactly how his meeting at the market went, and heaven help her, it was the very last thing she wanted to know.