Starting, Niall looked up as the barouche neared Oswell House. Aden, mounted on Loki, came even with the carriage, gave a half salute, and continued on in the opposite direction. “Where are ye headed?” Niall asked, turning in the soft seat to keep his brother in sight.
“Just out. It’s too civilized in the house. And I keep seeing Francesca lurking behind me.”
That could be handy. “Wait for me; I’ll join ye.”
The vehicle turned up the short drive, and Aden circled around to trail them. Generally the MacTaggerts worked alone when pursuing a lass, but this was no ordinary lass, and no ordinary pursuit. Niall could use someone with whom to speak—someone who wasn’t Coll. Aden’s observations could be useful, if taken with a bit of skepticism.
Clearly he did need some assistance; he’d been distracted enough that he’d ridden back to Oswell House with his backside gloriously cushioned by the overstuffed seat of the barouche, for Saint Andrew’s sake. Half of Mayfair likely thought him a softheaded dandy, now.
Once Gavin had saddled Kelpie for him, he and Aden trotted off heading southeasterly. “Did you find a lass while ye were out with Eloise?” Niall asked.
“Nae. A cartload of ’em came at us to say hello to our piuthar while we were eating, like a bunch of blushing roses. Nearly had to resort to swatting ’em away like flies. Some pretty ones, but by tomorrow I’ll nae recall most of their names.” Aden turned Loki directly south along a narrow, crowded street.
Niall caught up with him again. “That’s what ye want, isnae? A forgettable lass? That was our grand plan.”
“I recall.” Aden glanced at him sideways. “I may have decided to look about for someone a bit more … interesting. Seeing how well ye’ve done for yerself, that is.”
“Dunnae start that with me, bràthair.” Niall faced forward again. “It seems like ye do have a particular destination in mind.”
“I want to see the grand Thames all the poets write about.”
“We’re getting close; I can smell it.”
“Aye,” Aden agreed. “Must be low tide. Either that or a whale’s washed ashore.” He sent another glance that Niall pretended not to notice. “Isnae Amelia-Rose Baxter the first Sassenach lass ye set eyes on?”
“What of it? I’m nae some moonstruck bairn. She’s nae the first lass I’ve ever met.”
“But she is the first one ye’ve run across who needed this much of a rescue.”
The muscles across Niall’s shoulders tightened. This was not the advice and assistance he’d come seeking. “What does that have to do with the price of wool?”
“I know ye, Niall. Ye look after the ones who need help. Nae just the lasses; anyone who stands alone.”
“I—”
“It’s nae a bad thing; Saint Michael knows there’s got to be one of us whose first thought isnae battle. My…” He trailed off as the docks opened before them, the river just beyond. “That is one grand fucking stink,” he stated.
It was that. Crates and nets, sailors and dockworkers and soldiers crowded into every open space. Beyond them wide strips of mud marked the low-tide shore of the Thames, while water continued to flow down the middle of the riverbed. Down in the mud people scampered, baskets and buckets in their hands or on their backs as they dug through the muck. Scavengers, looking for whatever the river might vomit up that they could sell for a penny or a shilling or two.
“Dunnae change the subject,” he said belatedly. “I’m nae trying to rescue Amelia-Rose. It’s nae pity I’m feeling.”
“I didnae say ye were rescuing her. Ye said it, just now.”
“Because that’s what ye were implying. I watched her trying to be polite, and I watched Coll keep pushing at her, and then she handed him the tongue-lashing he deserved. That prim, proper lass, in her pretty, expensive gown, shut his gobber and sent him running with his tail between his legs.”
“Ye realize he left because she wasnae a lass he could bend to his way of doing things.”
“That was what I thought, until yesterday when he said he didnae care who she was and he’d nae have her as long as our mother chose her for him. But instead of trying to tell me we’ll nae suit, why dunnae ye tell me what I can do to convince her damned parents that she belongs with me even if I’m nae a bloody laird?”
Aden dismounted, so Niall followed suit. If they were going mudlarking he wasn’t going to be happy about it, but at least he’d dressed more appropriately for it than Aden in his buckskin trousers and very shiny boots.
Instead his brother dug a handful of hazelnuts from his pocket and offered half of them to Niall. Cracking one of them against his palm, Aden popped the plump seed into his mouth. “That’s nae an easy question, Niall,” he said, after he’d chewed and swallowed.
“Hence me asking for some help. Ma said she tried offering the Baxters a share of her shipping company, but they werenae impressed. They have blunt. They want a title.”
“Short of ye murdering Coll and me, that’s nae a thing you’ll ever have. If there’s naught else they want in the wide world, I reckon it’s a lost cause.” He ate another nut. “Especially when what ye want is for them to like ye.”
“I dunnae give a damn if they like me. They just have to accept me.”
Aden narrowed his eyes. “That’s it, though. They dunnae have to do anything. So I reckon ye can either convince them to want to accept ye, or decide a way around them entirely. And I dunnae know yer lass well, but she seems to listen fairly close to what her mama tells her.”
That, she did—to a point. And every time she did try for some independence, she paid for it. Those had been tears he’d seen in her eyes yesterday. They did make him angry, and aye, he did want to rescue her. More than that, he didn’t want to see her troubled. Since he was a large part of the reason for that particular malady, his options seemed severely limited.
“I wasnae helpful at all, was I?” Aden asked.
“Nae. Ye werenae,” Niall returned, blowing out his breath. “Ye did make my head ache, if that appeases ye.”
“Give me back my nuts if ye’re nae going to eat ’em.”
Niall handed them over. “Be about Oswell House tomorrow, will ye? Between two o’clock and six. I’m bringing her over for a visit.”
“I can do that. What about Coll?”
“He’s to be there, as well. He owes a kind word or two to Amelia-Rose.”
Aden nodded, pocketing the nuts and swinging back up on Loki. “Dunnae lose yer heart, Niall. I ken what ye want, but I dunnae see a way for ye to get it without someone getting bloody. And ye’re likely to be that someone. That’s the best advice I can give ye.”
Niall watched his brother trot off into the dockside crowd. His odds were slim. But he did have charm. And a determination to win the lass. Even a MacTaggert, he supposed, could swallow his pride for the right cause. And Amelia-Rose was all that, and more.
Chapter Twelve
“Jane, please just go to bed,” Amelia-Rose said, pulling her blankets up over her head.
Her cousin jerked upright from her seat by the dimming fireplace. “I am doing my duty,” she returned. “I should have told your mother. Since I didn’t, I am now solely responsible for your virtue.”
“No, I’m solely responsible for my virtue,” Amelia-Rose countered, sitting up again. “And the stupid window is locked, anyway, so even if he did decide to climb up the outside of the house, managing to not be seen by any passersby in the process, he wouldn’t be able to get in.”
“You might unlatch the window.”
“If you hadn’t been in here snoring, I would be asleep already.”
That was a lie, but it made her sound less like some wanton minx than she was presently feeling. Her greatest concern at the moment wasn’t Jane, but that Niall had indeed been jesting and meant to respect propriety. She didn’t want propriety. Not tonight. She wanted to know if he would be able to convince her mind as thoroughly as her body already seemed to be that he was the one for her.
With a sniff Jane stood, picked up her book and her embroidery, and made for the door. “This is madness, Amelia-Rose. And if your mother ever finds out about any of it, you will tell her that I was not involved.”