Francesca looked toward the stairs. From the ease with which Niall had stepped in to keep Coll’s disappearance a secret—to give Amelia-Rose a satisfactory-enough explanation that Miss Baxter had apparently not only accepted his presence but lied to allow it to continue—he’d done it before. Given a choice between calling him charming and crafty or charming and protective, she would of course prefer the latter.
She took a breath, standing and pulling Eloise to her feet beside her. “You must tell me how Niall and Matthew got along. I have no doubt that he’ll tell Aden and Coll exactly what he thinks of your betrothed, and if there’s to be warfare, I would like to know in advance.”
Now all she needed to do was set aside all of her private reservations—which could well be her own nerves and nothing more—and settle Coll with Amelia-Rose Baxter, and she could claim aloud that everything was proceeding much better than she’d expected.
“Ye said ye would do what was necessary to save Aldriss,” Aden pointed out, picking up a billiards ball and rolling it across the table.
“That’s nae how ye play,” Coll countered, still squinting a little in the reflected morning sunlight even after a night to sleep off his misadventure. “And I reckon I’ll see her for that damned party.”
Niall hefted the cue in his hands, beginning to wonder if cracking it across Coll’s skull would do more damage to the viscount or the wooden stick. “So ye’ll wed her, but ye willnae bother to become acquainted with her first?”
“Doesnae seem to be a point to that, since Lady Aldriss has decided it’s to be. I’d nae try to choose a man for Eloise without figuring out who she is, first, but who gives a damn, anyway.”
Well, one person came to mind, but Niall reflected that he did seem to be the only one interested in becoming acquainted with his brother’s bride-to-be. “Here,” he said, tossing the cue to Aden.
“Where are ye off to?”
“To find a bride, I reckon. Or get some air, at least.”
He saddled Kelpie himself, despite Gavin’s hovering, and trotted off toward Wigmore Place. He had no idea what Amelia-Rose’s schedule might be, and given that she seemed to have nearly every moment of every day filled with social engagements, the odds of her being home seemed abysmal. Still, Coll was supposed to be courting her. It was supposed to look like a love match. And so for the sake of appearances, which Amelia-Rose valued almost to the point of obsession, he would attempt to make it look like one.
Hughes didn’t look particularly happy to see him when he swung the Baxter House knocker against the door. “Mr. MacTaggert. No calling card, I presume?”
“Nae. Is Miss Baxter in?”
“Wait here. I shall inquire.”
The door closed. Ah, back to exile again. Before he could decide whether to invite himself into the foyer or not, the door opened again, and he found himself face-to-face with Amelia-Rose. “Good morning,” he said, grinning, refusing to examine too closely why the day had just become brighter even if he couldn’t ignore the fact that it had.
“Good morning,” she returned, leaning against the door. “What brings you here?”
He hadn’t really thought that far ahead, damn it all. “I … Coll and I, that is, were about to go riding, and I reckoned with a mount like Mirabel ye’re a rider, yerself. Care to join us?”
“I…” She glanced over her shoulder. “I have a luncheon at one o’clock.”
Niall pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s nae even ten o’clock. We’ll have ye back here in plenty of time.”
The door swung back and forth slowly, mimicking her indecision as she clearly weighed coming with him. “Very well,” she whispered. “Please go have John saddle Mirabel and a mount for himself. I’ll meet you by the stable.”
“And yer shadow?”
“My shadow hasn’t risen yet. Hush.” With a slight grin she softly closed the door on him again.
So the lass was ready to be a bit brave then, was she? Good for her. He and Kelpie made their way around the house, where he helped John saddle Mirabel and a gray gelding. If she meant this as a morning’s escape, the sooner they could get away the less likely anyone else would be able to stop them.
She appeared in the stable doorway, her crimson riding outfit just as compelling as it had been the first time he saw her wearing it. Even more compelling, really. Saint Andrew. “I assume Lord Glendarril is waiting for us?” she asked.
“Aye,” he lied smoothly. “He didnae want to risk a row with yer parents, so he’ll meet us in the park.”
“Which park?” she asked, folding her arms over her attractive bosom, her blue eyes sparkling.
So she didn’t believe him. Just as well. “I reckon he said Saint James,” he returned. Eloise had mentioned it yesterday as having a pond stocked with swans. That sounded reasonable, anyway. “Ye’ll have to lead the way. I couldnae find it without a map.”
“I haven’t found an adequate one for you yet,” she returned, following Mirabel to the stepping-stone. “Evidently everyone knows where everything is the moment they arrive in London.”
“I missed someaught, then.” Taking a breath, he moved in and put his hands around her trim waist. He lifted her, her hands warm where she put them on his shoulders for balance. Every time she touched him, on purpose or just in passing, a brush of her dress against his legs, a hand up into the barouche, he felt … electricity. Lightning. Did she feel it, as well? Was she trying as hard as he was to ignore it?
“You can let me go now,” she murmured.
Niall shook himself. “Are ye certain? Ye seemed a bit wobbly,” he improvised.
Her cheeks darkened. “Yes, I’m seated quite securely.”
Lowering his hands, he turned around to claim Kelpie and swing into the saddle. If he meant to go mad like that in her presence, he likely shouldn’t have worn his kilt again, but he hadn’t actually planned on seeing her this morning. “Which way, lass?”
She gestured, and he fell in beside her, with John bringing up the rear. “I’m glad you and Lord Glendarril asked me to join you,” she said. “I haven’t been riding anywhere except the coffeehouse in days, and Jane is … Well, she tries, but she does not enjoy it.”
“She does seem happier walking.” He looked over at Amelia-Rose. “I’m glad ye had a few free hours this morning.”
“So am I.” She grinned. “I never thought I’d be grateful that Mrs. Evenson had a kitchen fire, but it did cause her breakfast to be canceled.”
“If I’d known it was that easy to spend time with ye, I’d have set fire to it, myself.”
Amelia-Rose met his gaze, then looked away again. “You shouldn’t say things like that.” She frowned. “And I shouldn’t say I’m grateful for a fire. You are a bad influence, Niall.”
“Am I? Ye be polite, then, and I’ll do as I please, and we’ll see who’s happier at the end of the day.”
“That’s not fair. You’re not a refined lady.”
“Nae. And I’ve nae been happier to be a man than I am today, lass.”
“And why is that?” she asked, and he could practically feel her attention sharpen.
Well, he couldn’t very well say the first thing that popped into his brain, which was that he was with her. “Ye’re wearing that heavy skirt,” he compromised, “and I’m in a kilt. Isnae that enough?”
She chuckled. “I’ll concede that I do get a bit warm.”
“What kept ye occupied last evening?” he asked, and then got to listen to her describe an evening of charades and whist that she somehow made sound interesting. She had a keen eye for people and their quirks—which likely made it even more difficult to not comment on any of it in polite company. Evidently he wasn’t polite company, which suited him just fine.
They reached a park filled with trees and rows of planted posies, and an oval pond in the middle. Half a dozen swans paddled about looking untroubled, which he reckoned meant no one dared eat them. “They are regal, aren’t they?” Amelia-Rose noted. “I don’t think I would ever devour one on purpose.”
He grinned. “That statement would depend on how hungry ye were. Are we allowed to gallop here? I tried it on the street the other morning, and some old woman yelled at me and called me a savage.”
“Oh, dear. No, there’s no galloping here. Only on Rotten Row in Hyde Park. We can trot, though.”