Read Online Rose In Scotland by Joan Overfield - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joan Overfield
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the air of fashionable
élan
she had been striving to achieve.
There
, she thought with womanly satisfaction, brushing one of the long curls back from her shoulder.
Let him call me a schoolmiss now
.
When she walked into the drawing room a few minutes later she saw that a small fire had been laid in the fireplace and she also saw a tray of biscuits and a bottle of madeira were standing in readiness per her instructions. She’d offer him a glass of wine first, and when he was feeling comfortable and pleased with himself she’d present her offer to him. Everyone knew the Scots to be a hardheaded, practical people, and if she couldmake him see the sense of what she was offering, he would agree. He had to agree, she thought, a small frisson of panic sneaking through her defenses. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate.
The tinkling of the bell interrupted her reverie, and she’d no sooner taken her seat before the fire than the door opened and the butler entered, Mr. MacColme hard on his heels. “Sergeant MacColme to see you, my lady,” the butler intoned, his wooden expression mute evidence of his disapproval. “Will you be requiring anything further?”
From that, Caroline gathered he was hinting she should have a maid sit with her for propriety’s sake. But what she had to say was too important to risk their conversation being overheard by anyone—especially a servant who was likely to repeat everything she heard.
“No, Campton, thank you,” she said, dredging up a smile. “That will be all. You may go now.”
“As you wish, my lady.” The butler’s bow was so stiff it was a wonder he didn’t snap in half, Caroline mused, the smile on her lips spreading into a genuine grin. She quickly pursed her mouth, sending her guest a worried glance out of the corner of her eye. To her deep surprise, he was also smiling.
“I had a sergeant in my early days with the regiment,” he said, his silver-green eyes twinkling with remembered laughter. “He was a proper terror, with a voice like a bull and a fist the size of a ham. When he pokered up like that, we knew we were in for it.”
His easy confidence took Caroline aback, destroyingthe plans she had laid with such care. She’d been prepared to deal with the cold, hard soldier she’d met that morning, and was uncertain what to do with this smiling, even-tempered man. Heavens, she thought, dazed at the realization, he was almost charming. She was wondering how best to adjust to this new development when the smile vanished, and his eyes grew as cold as a wind off the sea.
“Well, I’m here, my lady,” he said, folding his arms and studying her with the cold insolence she remembered from yesterday. “What is it you have to say?”
His mocking tones made Caroline’s temper flare, but she controlled her tongue. “I will be blunt, sir,” she began, meeting his gaze with cool insouciance. “My grandfather has a proposition he is about to put to you; a proposition which will be to both of our benefits. I wish you to accept that proposition, and am willing to pay you handsomely for doing so.”
An eyebrow one shade darker than the reddish-brown hair pulled back in a queue arched, but his hard face revealed not a hint of his thoughts. “Indeed?” he said, his deep voice mild. “And what must I do to be paid so handsomely? Is it someone you want killed, mayhap? This Uncle Charles of yours, who has caused you such distress?”
She struggled to her feet with as much grace as her full skirts and tight corset would allow. “Of course I don’t want Uncle Charles killed!” she exclaimed, horrified he could even suggest such a thing, his callousness seemed to imply that he would say yes if that was indeed what she wanted.
“Then what is it?” he pressed. “You must admit ’Tis more than passing strange. You ask me to meet with you without benefit of a chaperone, and I no sooner get here than you’re offering me a fistful of gold to accept a
élan
she had been striving to achieve.
There
, she thought with womanly satisfaction, brushing one of the long curls back from her shoulder.
Let him call me a schoolmiss now
.
When she walked into the drawing room a few minutes later she saw that a small fire had been laid in the fireplace and she also saw a tray of biscuits and a bottle of madeira were standing in readiness per her instructions. She’d offer him a glass of wine first, and when he was feeling comfortable and pleased with himself she’d present her offer to him. Everyone knew the Scots to be a hardheaded, practical people, and if she couldmake him see the sense of what she was offering, he would agree. He had to agree, she thought, a small frisson of panic sneaking through her defenses. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate.
The tinkling of the bell interrupted her reverie, and she’d no sooner taken her seat before the fire than the door opened and the butler entered, Mr. MacColme hard on his heels. “Sergeant MacColme to see you, my lady,” the butler intoned, his wooden expression mute evidence of his disapproval. “Will you be requiring anything further?”
From that, Caroline gathered he was hinting she should have a maid sit with her for propriety’s sake. But what she had to say was too important to risk their conversation being overheard by anyone—especially a servant who was likely to repeat everything she heard.
“No, Campton, thank you,” she said, dredging up a smile. “That will be all. You may go now.”
“As you wish, my lady.” The butler’s bow was so stiff it was a wonder he didn’t snap in half, Caroline mused, the smile on her lips spreading into a genuine grin. She quickly pursed her mouth, sending her guest a worried glance out of the corner of her eye. To her deep surprise, he was also smiling.
“I had a sergeant in my early days with the regiment,” he said, his silver-green eyes twinkling with remembered laughter. “He was a proper terror, with a voice like a bull and a fist the size of a ham. When he pokered up like that, we knew we were in for it.”
His easy confidence took Caroline aback, destroyingthe plans she had laid with such care. She’d been prepared to deal with the cold, hard soldier she’d met that morning, and was uncertain what to do with this smiling, even-tempered man. Heavens, she thought, dazed at the realization, he was almost charming. She was wondering how best to adjust to this new development when the smile vanished, and his eyes grew as cold as a wind off the sea.
“Well, I’m here, my lady,” he said, folding his arms and studying her with the cold insolence she remembered from yesterday. “What is it you have to say?”
His mocking tones made Caroline’s temper flare, but she controlled her tongue. “I will be blunt, sir,” she began, meeting his gaze with cool insouciance. “My grandfather has a proposition he is about to put to you; a proposition which will be to both of our benefits. I wish you to accept that proposition, and am willing to pay you handsomely for doing so.”
An eyebrow one shade darker than the reddish-brown hair pulled back in a queue arched, but his hard face revealed not a hint of his thoughts. “Indeed?” he said, his deep voice mild. “And what must I do to be paid so handsomely? Is it someone you want killed, mayhap? This Uncle Charles of yours, who has caused you such distress?”
She struggled to her feet with as much grace as her full skirts and tight corset would allow. “Of course I don’t want Uncle Charles killed!” she exclaimed, horrified he could even suggest such a thing, his callousness seemed to imply that he would say yes if that was indeed what she wanted.
“Then what is it?” he pressed. “You must admit ’Tis more than passing strange. You ask me to meet with you without benefit of a chaperone, and I no sooner get here than you’re offering me a fistful of gold to accept a
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