Highlander in Disguise (Lockhart Family #2)

She gave him a nod of her head, signaling her pleasure that he had come round to her way of thinking.

Grif put his hands on his knees and looked at the door. “It is with great reluctance that I must bring me call to an end. Alas, I’ve another engagement.”

“Of course,” she said, and after Grif made the customary departing proclamations, he strode out of the room as quickly as he dared.

He did not, however, manage to get out of the house, and, in fact, he did not manage to go very far at all, for he heard Anna’s familiar warm laugh. The sound of it unnerved him, and he paused mid-stride. It seemed to be coming from the foyer. He walked quietly to the edge of the corridor, and paused there, leaning to one side to peer into the foyer.

He should have known.

It was Lockhart. Anna was laughing at something he’d said, her face upturned to his the way Grif had taught her, her smile bright and sparkling, just as he’d instructed.

With one hand on her elbow, Lockhart was smiling down at her bosom; Grif could plainly see the man was enjoying Anna’s attention. He said something in a low voice, and Anna leaned into him, her bosom grazing his arm. If nothing else, she was an excellent student. She laughed again, then went up on her tiptoes, cupped her hand, and whispered something in Lockhart’s ear that caused him to throw back his head and laugh loudly.

That was the moment Grif made his entrance, striding into their midst.

Both of them started at the sound of his boot on the marble floor, and both turned round to see who it was. Anna’s smile did not fade at all—if anything, it grew brighter.

Lockhart, on the other hand, lost all good humor at the sight of Grif.

Grif smiled. Clasped his hands behind his back as he came to a halt before them. “Sharing a bit of jest, are ye?” he asked pleasantly.

“Yes,” Anna said. “A private jest.”

“Ardencaple,” Lockhart said coolly. “Making the rounds of the debutantes’ parlors again, are you?”

“As a matter of fact,” he said pleasantly, then feigned concern. “Does it displease ye, Lockhart?”

“Not in the least, my lord. Your activities matter not to me. Or to anyone else, I should suspect. I will admit, however, to giving over to wonder from time to time… how long will we be graced with your considerable presence in London?”

“Have ye wondered, indeed?” Grif asked, and left it at that. He had no intention of answering any question put to him by the rake.

He’d almost forgotten the helpful diabhal next to Lockhart. “Did you not say, my lord, that you’d be leaving by Season’s end?” she asked sweetly.

“Did I? I canna recall.”

“I’m certain you did,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back and rising up on her toes, and down again, smiling so sweetly that she looked like a bloody angel. “I’m really rather certain that you did.”

“I beg yer pardon, Miss Addison, if I gave ye the wrong impression,” he said, inclining his head apologetically. “I couldna possibly depart ere I finished what I came to do.”

That retort seemed to delight her. She smiled so broadly that she had to bite her lower lip in an apparent attempt to keep from laughing.

Lockhart, on the other hand, was looking more and more perturbed. “And what is it, exactly, my lord, that you came to do?”

Grif shifted a cold gaze to Lockhart. “I wouldna bore ye with the details of it all,” he said. “’Tis a bit of old family business.”

“Sounds rather tedious,” Lockhart said with a smirk.

“Ye’ve no idea how tedious, sir. Now, if ye’ll excuse the intrusion, I’ll take me leave now,” he said, and with a bit of a pointed look for Anna, he proceeded to the front door, received his hat and gloves from the footman, and was walking out when he heard Anna call a cheerful good day after him.

Aye, have yer fun, he thought. He’d deal with her later. And frankly, he’d delight in imagining how exactly he would deal with her until that happy opportunity was upon him.





Nineteen




A nna’s step was much lighter the next afternoon as she hurried to her lessons. Her “impromptu” encounter with Drake Lockhart the day before had renewed her hope that all was not lost, that she might indeed one day find herself in the enviable position of being Mrs. Lockhart.

She snuck into the mews from Cavendish Street and ran to the side door where Mr. Dudley usually met her. She gave the door three quick raps, waited excitedly for him to answer, and when he pulled the door open a crack, she leaned in, smiling. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dudley! Glorious day!”

The old man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he pulled the door open a little more, stuck his head through.