Francesca took a deep breath. She might only be a MacTaggert by marriage, but by God she would do everything in her power to see this succeed. The rest would be up to Niall. And to Amelia-Rose, who’d shown more spirit than she’d expected. At least if this was a disaster in the making, she could hope they would all find that out sooner rather than later.
Niall paced the foyer and pretended to ignore Smythe crammed into the corner by the door. The butler could pretend fright if he wished, but they both knew that the servant had nothing to fear. It had passed ten o’clock seven minutes ago, he’d changed his coat for one with both sleeves still attached, and the Baxters were nowhere in sight. If they’d decided not to argue over agreements and signatures and instead fled to the country with Amelia-Rose, his plans needed a twist. The idea that he waited there while his lass vanished made his jaw clench and his fingers flex. He needed to know if she was well. He needed to know if he should be throwing a saddle onto Kelpie and riding after them.
Wheels crunched on the short drive. Niall closed his eyes for a moment. They’d chosen to argue, which suited him just fine. “Go,” he said to the butler, gesturing at the door.
“It’s bad form if I allow people into this house and you attack them,” Smythe returned, emerging from his corner and straightening his jacket.
“It’s also bad form if the butler lands out on the drive on his arse.”
“Well.” Sniffing, Smythe pulled open the door and moved forward.
A day ago he’d told himself that if Amelia-Rose and Coll fell in love and married, he could live with that. The welfare of Aldriss Park and all those who depended on the MacTaggerts had to take priority over his own attachments. That was how he’d been raised.
It had been a lie. Part of him had known that Coll would never fall for her, and even in his nightmares where the viscount had done so, Niall couldn’t imagine himself remaining beneath the same roof as the newlyweds. He couldn’t imagine watching as they shared a life, shared a bed. The idea that Coll truly would have left her behind in London, though, was almost worse. None of that was going to happen now, thank God, but it didn’t mean he had a smooth path ahead of him.
The Baxters mounted the shallow front step. As Mrs. Baxter handed her bonnet to Smythe, Niall stepped forward, his gaze, his attention, on the daughter rather than either of her parents. “A word with ye, Amelia-Rose?”
She didn’t look happy. In fact, as she turned to look at him, he was fairly certain she’d been crying. His right fist closed.
“We are here to see Lady Aldriss,” Mrs. Baxter stated. “Not you.”
Niall waved the fingers of his left hand toward the stairs. With a loud bellow of escaping air the pair of pipes on the landing beside Rory the deer began a tune. It sounded like a Jacobite marching song, but these Sassenach likely didn’t know they were being treated to a rebellion. “Say that again?” he said aloud, putting a hand to his ear. “I couldnae hear ye.”
“I said we’re not here to see you!” Mrs. Baxter repeated, stone-faced as a gargoyle.
Shaking his head, Niall reached out and took Amelia-Rose’s hand in his. “Still cannae hear ye. We’ll be in the garden.”
Her fingers were cold, but he set that aside as he swiftly led the way through the back of the house and out to the garden. He would have preferred somewhere more private, but she was a lass who could recite all the rules of propriety—and he was fairly certain the two of them alone in a room wouldn’t be in her rule book.
Once they reached the small, brick-walled garden Amelia-Rose pulled free of his grip and stepped up into the wooden gazebo, seating herself on one of the benches in front of the low railing. “You’ve been fighting,” she stated as he followed her.
“And how do ye reckon that?”
“Your knuckles are bruised.”
He flexed his right hand, looking down at it. “I met a man who deserved a walloping. I obliged him.”
“Which man?”
“Ex-beau of yers. He treated ye ill.”
She reached out to take his hand, then released it again. “Niall, I’m confused.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “What are ye confused about? I kissed ye, and I want ye.”
She folded her hands in her lap, only the tightness in her fingers giving away that she wasn’t entirely calm. “I do recall the kiss. It was very nice.”
“That’s nae a compliment.” It was nearer an insult, in fact. Nice. Ha.
“The first night we met, at the theater, you were being pleasant to me so as not to ruin your brother’s chances at winning my hand. Is that correct?”
“Aye.”
“And coffee the next morning. And the picnic. And going riding. And the recital. You were there on your brother’s behalf, whether he knew about it or not.”
By now he’d figured out where her questions were leading. While he didn’t particularly want to visit, mainly because he hadn’t sorted it all out himself, he did understand why she’d sent their conversation careening in that direction. “Aye,” he answered again. “And nae. But I reckon ye knew that already.”
“Last night at the Spenfield ball. You didn’t request a single dance from me.”
“I wanted to. The idea that I could hold ye in my arms and then have to let ye go again … It didnae seem a wise thing to do.”
Her gaze touched his, and then she looked away. “I would imagine, knowing what I do now, that you forced your brother to escort my parents and me to the ball.”
That made him shake his head. “There’s nae a man can force Coll to do someaught against his will. He did have a thing or two other than what I expected on his mind, though.”
“I can accept that. But you did convince him to escort me.”
“Ye play well with words, lass. Get to yer point, then.”
She took a visible breath, her shoulders rising and falling. “My point is that I can’t decide whether you were lying at the beginning and using your brother as an excuse to spend time with me, or if you’re lying now that you must have me for yourself when you’re really just trying to save Aldriss Park.”
“Neither of those is a lie, Amelia-Rose,” he said, beginning to wish he’d opted for somewhere more private after all. Shouting seemed to be in the offing. “I stepped in on Coll’s behalf. After our very first conversation I knew ye … I liked ye. I liked chatting with ye. Coll being stubborn gave me an excuse to spend time with ye.”
“And if your brother had been nicer last night? If he’d offered to spend part of the year in London with me and not steal our hypothetical children away? My mother had planned to send an announcement of our engagement to the newspaper this morning.”
“I’m nae certain what I would have done,” Niall answered, fixing his gaze on the row of red roses surrounding the wooden structure. “It was like I was reading a story in a book, and I didnae like where the plot was headed, but I couldnae stop it. It had already been written, ye ken. I was too late.”
She stood. “I see.”
“What does that mean? ‘I see’?”
“It means in my view the story wasn’t already written, and instead of being the hero, you waited until the villain left the room and then swooped in, and then declared yourself. You kiss very well, sir. As if you’ve had a great deal of practice. If you truly want me, and I’m not just that convenient ‘some Englishwoman’ your mother said you must wed, then you’re going to have to woo me. And not by pretending it’s on someone else’s behalf.”
He started to snap a reply, but by God she was correct. That was exactly what he’d done, whether he’d intended it or not. He’s slipped in sideways without ever having to make a declaration until it was perfectly safe to do so. And his mother was inside the house right now, trying to make his claim official, to bind her to him when he’d done nothing to earn her respect, much less her affection.
“Wait here a moment,” he stated, and started for the house.
“What? I will n—”
“Just for a minute, lass. Dunnae leave.”
Cursing under his breath, he strode back inside, up the hallway, and to the closed door of his mother’s office. Without bothering to knock, he shoved it open.