Scot Under the Covers Read online

  “It sounds bonny.” Narrowing his eyes a little, Aden glanced around them. Thanks mostly to giant Nuckelavee and his rider, the Sassenach out riding this morning had given them a wide berth. “Since I ken ye’re nae an idiot, why dunnae ye go about convincing the lasses here of the same thing? Go to dances and book readings and dinner parties where ye’ll have a chance to converse. Go to the damned theater.”

  “I’ll consider it.” Coll slanted him a sideways glance. “As for how ye’re spending yer days here, there arenae lasses at Boodle’s. And the ones serving drinks at some of yer gaming hells arenae precisely the sort Francesca would approve of.” He chuckled. “Though her damned agreement doesnae say a bride cannae be a lightskirt. Only that she has to be English.” They reached the end of Rotten Row and swung back around again. “But what I mean to say is, ye’ll nae find yer own bride at the places ye’ve been visiting. And that’s why I’m still of a mind to join ye at luncheon today. To figure out what ye’re up to.”

  Aden held secrets that weren’t his to divulge. At the same time, after tonight his family would likely be coming up with their own stories to fill in the very large gaps he left. And there remained the very slight chance that he might need some assistance here and there, at least until he figured out how best to be rid of Vale. He pulled in a breath as he mentally crossed his fingers. “Ye cannae go to Boodle’s with me because I’ve a mind to impress Albert Harris.”

  “Ye…” Coll opened his mouth, then shut it again. “I’ll be damned. Miranda Harris.” They rode in silence as they reached the next corner and turned east in between the two towering cliffs of stately homes.

  “Dunnae be gentle now, giant,” Aden said. “We may be in London, but I grew up with ye in the Highlands.”

  Coll cleared his throat. “She’s the one for ye, then? The one lass in London who looked ye in yer soulful eyes and saw yer clever smile and told ye to go to the devil?”

  “That’s nae got a thing to do with it.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve chatted with her since then. She’s clever and doesnae detest me as much as ye might think.”

  The viscount actually laughed. “That’s a fine reason for wanting a lass. She only hates ye a wee bit.”

  Aden reflected that he should have kept his mouth shut, after all. “This is why I didnae want to say anything to ye, giant. Leave be.”

  “Aye.” Coll narrowed one eye, even his profile amused. “But isnae she nearly betrothed already? Her ma kept mentioning some navy lad she’s mad for.”

  “I amnae saying anything else. And for a man who wants to be seen as more subtle, ye tramping yer big feet all over territory that’s nae yers doesnae become ye.”

  Coll slowed Nuckelavee to a walk. “Ye dunnae go into anything blindly, bràthair. I know ye. Ye’ve a plan, a game, and ye’re half a dozen moves ahead of everyone else. So convince me ye’re nae pretending to have a yen for this lass because she insulted ye and now ye mean to break her heart.”

  That sounded like him. Aden couldn’t deny that. This, though, was different. If he admitted it all to Coll, though, even the part that he worried Miranda was only tolerating him because she needed his help, his brother wouldn’t believe it. Him, putting himself in the position of being dragged about by his cock. Him, about to step into the middle of a battle that would likely earn him nothing and where the odds were good that not only would he lose, but the lass would laugh at him even if he won.

  “I reckon we’ll find out,” he said aloud, though Coll’s statement was the one thing he already could answer. Because no, he wasn’t planning on breaking Miranda’s heart. And no, he wasn’t pretending that he’d become damned fond of the lass. He’d already become so fond of her that he was apparently willing to risk his own reputation at the tables in order to save her—whether she actually liked him in return, or not.

  Chapter Nine

  Matthew knew Captain Vale had demanded two dances of her this evening. He had to. Otherwise Miranda couldn’t explain why her brother had both hovered close by her all through the family’s light dinner, and managed at the same time to make certain the two of them were never alone so she could kick him even while they climbed into the coach afterward. It was quite a feat, but she didn’t admire it in the least. No, it only added to the throbbing swirl of trepidation, anger, frustration, and dread pounding in her skull. For the first time in her life her brother was not an ally, at a time when she sorely needed a few of those.

  “Papa,” she said, interrupting her brother’s prattling over why Eloise preferred white roses over pink, “you haven’t said how your luncheon at Boodle’s went today.”

  Albert Harris, seated opposite her in the cramped coach, rubbed his chin. “Your mother said you were taken with Aden MacTaggert as well as Captain Vale. Very roguish of you, my dear.”

  “Not Aden,” Matthew put in, frowning. “She and Robert are well suited.”

  She forced a chuckle, even though hearing Vale’s name said aloud made her want to vomit. “Come now, Papa. A Highlander practically invited himself to your favorite club, in your company. That is not something that happens every day. I’m perishing of curiosity.”

  And it happened to be supremely important to her possible escape from that awful hawk-faced man who also frequented the club, at least according to Matthew’s ramblings. Because although Aden had done more kissing than talking last night, she gathered that she—and Vale—were the reason for his sudden interest in being admitted to a gentlemen’s club. She hoped that was so, anyway.

  “Very well. I take your point.” Her father grinned. “If you must know, it went quite swimmingly. That Aden has his wits about him. I’d forgotten that Eldridge has holdings in Scotland, but the earl began spouting his poor opinion of cotters and Scottish whisky before we’d even managed to take our seats.”

  “Oh, dear,” their mother intoned, shaking her head. “Lord Eldridge is too old to be stomping on the pride of young men. However did Mr. MacTaggert react to being insulted?”

  “He lifted one eyebrow and said—in that accent of his—that Eldridge’s land must be in the bad part of Scotland, and what a shame that was. The next thing you know, Eldridge is defending his property and the entire countryside.” Albert Harris laughed. “If there’s one thing a landowner can’t tolerate, it’s having people think his holdings are no good.”

  “Hm,” Miranda offered, realizing she wasn’t at all surprised that Aden had managed to turn the conversation on its head, “no punching at all? The wags must be terribly disappointed.”

  “More than likely,” her father said with a chuckle. “But Eldridge must have been relieved to see Aden brush off the insult like a dog not bothering with a flea. That is to say, you’ve all met Eldridge. Aden MacTaggert could likely break him in half with one hand while he kept hold of a mug of beer in the other. And still not spill a drop.”

  “Oh, please, Albert,” Elizabeth countered, her own expression amused. “Mr. MacTaggert looks far too poetical to break people in half. It’s more likely Lord Eldridge would trip over one of the numerous young ladies swooning over this Aden and bloody his own nose.”

  Well. Other women might swoon over Aden and his stormy green eyes and his overgrown wavy black hair and that straight, cynical mouth and that strong chin and hard, lean, imposing figure, but they would be risking their virtues if they did so. He was far too clever by half for most of them, anyway.

  Miranda took a quick breath, surprised at the dark, squawking raven of her thoughts. She sounded jealous even to herself, and she certainly knew better than that. He might kiss with a heat and intimacy that curled her toes, but she had no idea if she was the only one he was kissing. He’d said he wanted her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going about bedding every female who caught his eye.

  It wasn’t any of her affair, really, except that he’d promised to help her and that he was nothing like the stereotypical heartless, soulless gambler she’d expected. No one would approve of the idea th
at her partner’s attentions were divided. Miranda nodded to herself. That had some logic to it. She wanted his undivided attention because it would take at least that to extricate her from this mess.

  “I’m going to ask Captain Vale to join us for dinner on Sunday,” her father announced.

  She swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. “That’s not … Please, Papa. Don’t look for things—or encourage things—that aren’t even there. We’ve only just met, you know.”

  “And what sort of father would I be if I waited until you completely lost your heart before I bothered to meet your beau and decide whether he was worthy of your hand in marriage?”

  “Marriage?” she repeated, her voice squeaking. “That is precisely what I mean. Mama, please tell Papa that he’s being silly. Don’t force an outcome that we have no idea might otherwise be in the offing. For goodness’ sake.”

  Elizabeth Harris narrowed her eyes. “I’m afraid I have to agree with your father in this, Miranda. I want to meet this man and learn his character before hearts are entwined—or broken. We’ve met Aden MacTaggert, whether you’ll admit to liking him or not, so it’s only fair we take a gander at your other possible beau.”

  She would have to do it. She would have to invite Captain Robert Vale to her home, to meet her parents. He would no doubt charm them, much as Aden had charmed her father, and they would be a bit baffled that she, who’d remained single despite numerous offers of marriage, had ultimately chosen such an … unspectacular man. Not just his peculiar looks, but he would more than likely work very hard at seeming ordinary. Or as close to that as he could imagine, anyway.

  “I’ll ask him, if you like,” Matthew piped up. “He was my friend first, after all.”

  If you like him so much, you can have him, Miranda thought, but kept her mouth firmly shut. Nothing positive she said would be believed, because her tongue would blacken and fall out of her mouth if she tried to say anything nice or flirtatious or complimentary about Robert Vale. “Ask him, then,” she managed. At least it would be fewer words she needed to speak to the man.

  Aden had advised that she be more … worldly in her outlook, and it made sense that she couldn’t fight Vale’s underhanded ways by fluttering her fan at him. But Aden had also said that she might enjoy certain things about living her private life as she chose. That should have appalled her; she’d been raised to be a lady, and was well known to be such. The idea that she could be as cunning and bold as she pleased while the face she showed in public would be the same one she’d always presented, however, had an appeal to it that she’d never expected. Aden had an appeal to him that she’d never expected. Was it as simple as saying that he wasn’t like those men who had ruined her uncle and driven her brother into debt—twice, now? Was that logic speaking up, or her heart demanding another excuse to kiss him?

  How did one go about being cunning and bold, anyway? She hadn’t the faintest idea. If it would aid her in escaping from Captain Vale without publicly ruining herself and her family, she meant to figure it out. “Did you ever learn if Eloise and her family will be attending tonight, Matthew?” she asked, attempting to sound unconcerned.

  “She’s attending. I didn’t think to ask about the rest of them.”

  “Lady Aldriss told me that she means to at least make an appearance,” her mother took up. “She said so after dinner last night. Do none of you listen to polite conversation any longer?”

  That must have been during one of the times she’d been lost in thoughts of heated kisses and Aden. “They are a rather raucous group,” she put in. “I couldn’t hear every bit of every conversation.”

  “They are a very handsome family as well,” Elizabeth countered with a grin. “I’m certain that had nothing to do with your being distracted, though.”

  Miranda’s cheeks heated. “Of course not.”

  “Then you heard the exchange between myself and Francesca where I invited her and Eloise to join you and me for luncheon in the garden tomorrow?”

  “But I have a b—”

  “Ladies only,” Mrs. Harris broke in, before Matthew could finish. “So go to your boxing match.”

  Did that mean Captain Vale would be at this boxing match, as well? Miranda would make certain to inform Aden, just in case. That thought led her to more questions—would Aden be in attendance tonight? Now that she’d agreed to learn some of his devious ways, when would he begin instructing her? And how? She swallowed. That statement of his had contained some rather intimate bits, but admitting that those intrigued her would seem both premature and naive. She had other, more pressing troubles that should have been taking up her entire attention.

  In addition, she had a task of her own to perform. They’d made an agreement, after all, and she refused to let it just be lip service, something he’d conjured so she wouldn’t feel as vulnerable to his whims as she actually was. And if anyone could stand to learn proper behavior, it was the MacTaggert brothers.

  The coach made a turn and stopped, and a moment later a footman in bright-red-and-yellow livery pulled open the door. Her father stepped down and turned around to offer his hand to his wife. “Be cautious, my dears. Evidently the entire Horse Guards has been trooping up and down the street.”

  Matthew had once said that the success of a ball could be measured in the amount of horse manure covering the street in front of the house. Going by that logic, the Darlington ball was thus far the crush of the Season. Hiking her skirts up to her ankles and deliberately ignoring Matthew’s proffered hand, she followed in her mother’s careful footsteps.

  “Mia, don’t be like that,” her brother whispered. “Our parents will notice.”

  “Perhaps,” she returned in the same tone. “I shall leave it to you to explain why we are at odds.”

  “I had no choice.”

  She stopped just short of the doorway and faced him. “You had a choice seven weeks ago. Now another man owns you. You might consider delaying your wedding, to ensure that he won’t also own Eloise. Because while no one defends me, you may find that the MacTaggerts don’t care about consequences when one of their own is threatened.”

  The look he gave her spoke volumes. She was to save him, save his impending marriage, save his reputation. He’d had a week to consider, and he still had no better plan than one that would ultimately keep him under Vale’s sway for a lifetime. They would be brothers-in-law, after all, if the captain had his way and put a ring on her finger and a shackle around her ankle.

  As she considered all of that, the butler announced the Harris family and she found herself ushered into the main ballroom. The Darlingtons had removed the folding wall that divided the ballroom from the music room, doubling the space and creating what amounted to a double-tennis-court-sized ballroom. And though the evening was early and the first dance hadn’t yet begun, the room, the surrounding hallways, and the adjoining library and drawing room—now turned into a gaming room—were full to the rafters.

  “I’m off to see if Eloise has arrived yet,” Matthew declared, and promptly vanished into the crowd.

  “What of you, my dear?” her mother asked, taking Miranda’s hand. “I imagine we won’t see you again until the party is over.”

  She wanted to stay close by her parents, be the young girl who knew her mother and father would never allow anything to happen to her. But if she remained there, Captain Vale would speak with them when he arrived to claim her for the dance. He’d insinuate how deeply he’d begun to care for her, and he’d say how much he hoped she returned the sentiment.

  “Oh, I’ll swoop in for a kiss on the cheek now and again,” she said aloud, sending them a smile before she did kiss her mother on the cheek and then allowed herself to be swept away into the crowd.

  A group of her friends had gathered close by one of the balcony windows, and with a deep breath she headed in their direction. If she could lie to her parents, then she could lie to her friends. If this was Aden’s idea of being more free, though, she didn’t much li
ke it. Lying to everyone felt exhausting, and supremely taxing. All those different tales to keep straight.

  Now that she’d thought about Aden, she looked about to see if he was in attendance. He more than likely would prefer to be at some dark, dirty gaming hell, but Captain Vale was to be here tonight. If Aden meant to help her, she could certainly use some of his wit and guile this evening.

  “Ah, Miranda, my dear.”

  Her spine tightened in a spasm so hard that her back arched a little. However many times she’d thought about how she would feel the next time Captain Robert Vale appeared, the fact of it was that he terrified her. “Captain,” she said, and continued walking. Friends, twenty feet in front of her. They couldn’t know what was afoot, and a second ago she’d dreaded having to dissemble in front of them, but now their mere presence might aid her.

  He drew even with her. “The second dance of the evening is the waltz. I’ll have that one, and the following dance. The quadrille.”

  She kept her gaze on her friends. On silly Helen Turner and her twin brother, Harry. Surely nothing sinister could happen in Helen’s presence. “Two dances in a row could invite scandal.”

  “Then I’ll have both waltzes.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.” His left hand grabbed hers, and he placed her fingers over his right forearm. “Both waltzes. That’s fitting for a couple falling in love.”

  “I am much sought-after, Captain. If you take both waltzes, you will earn the animosity of several of my would-be beaux.”

  “I have very good information that I will triumph over them in my pursuit of you.”

  “You manipulated my brother into owing you money. Does that truly give you license to be arrogant here?”

  His free hand closed over hers. Hard. “I manipulated a great many things to pave a way into Society for myself. Those things I’ve done give me leave to have you do precisely what I want, when I want. Your supposed beaux who’ve failed to win you in five years of courting all entered into this game knowing only one of them would win. Even the latecomer Scotsman who thinks he can gamble. That winner is me.”