Provoked (6 page)

Jeffrey poured the port the maidservant brought them. It was strong stuff, dark purplish-brown and heady with flavour. David had never drunk port much before. He was a whisky man, and he found the flavour of the fortified wine very sweet to his palate. Chalmers seemed to like it, though.

“So, Jeffrey, Mr. Lauriston here is one of your bright sparks, is he?” Chalmers asked jovially.

Jeffrey chuckled. “He is indeed. One of my protégés, though he’d do better with another sponsor, I fear.”

“Oh, you do well enough,” Chalmers returned drily.

“I suppose,” Jeffrey replied. “Though it’s taken long enough. And I’ve made more pennies from writing than from the law, as you know.”

“From the
Edinburgh Review
? That rag!” Chalmers laughed, and Jeffrey joined him, the two of them seeming very tickled.

“Do you read Jeffrey’s rag, Mr. Lauriston?” Chalmers asked when their laughter had subsided.

“Of course,” David said, then added, “though Mr. Jeffrey’s literary tastes do not coincide with my own.”

“You presume to disagree with the great literary critic?” Chalmers asked merrily. “In what particular?”

“He thinks I was hard on Mr. Keats,” Jeffrey interjected.

“With the greatest respect, you were,” David said. “Mr. Keats is a genius.”

“And I said so!
A beautiful imagination
, my very words!”

“
Absurd, obscure, rash
. Your very words.”

Chalmers laughed. “I’m pleased to see you’re not one for toadying, Mr. Lauriston. I detest a toady.”

“A most important consideration, I find,” Jeffrey added smoothly, “when choosing a junior advocate to work with.”

Chalmers chuckled again and glanced at David. “Jeffrey knows I’m always looking for bright juniors. I’m of a lazy disposition, you see.”

“Lazy you may be, but you’re the finest advocate I know,” Jeffrey replied.

“All right, no need to lay it on so thick. I’ll give your protégé a try.” Chalmers threw back the last of his port, then fixed a surprisingly sober look on David. “And if you live up to Jeffrey’s recommendation, there’ll be more work, so make sure you impress me.”

“Thank you, sir,” David said, blinking in surprise. “I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

“No need to thank me now,” Chalmers replied. “If you do well, you can take one of my daughters off my hands. I’ve got three more besides Elizabeth.”

David flushed, and the other two men laughed.

Soon after, they rose and joined the ladies.

It seemed Jeffrey was not the only host with a purpose. Mrs. Jeffrey appeared to be cherishing some matchmaking ambitions. When the gentlemen entered the drawing room, she ushered David and Elizabeth Chalmers over to the pianoforte and suggested they select some music for Elizabeth to play. The two older couples she herded to the other end of the room to converse in peace.

Embarrassed, David began to sheaf through some sheet music.

“Sorry,” Elizabeth whispered. He glanced at her askance, and she offered him an apologetic grin. “You’re mortified, aren’t you?”

He gave a small laugh. “A bit. Please don’t take offence—” he added when he realised how that sounded. “I’m just not terribly at ease at social occasions.”

“No offence taken,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “It’s a relief, actually. Father’s juniors often feel obliged to be attentive to me. It’s excruciating when you know someone’s paying you compliments solely to please your father.”

“I’m sure they pay you compliments for all sorts of reasons,” David said in an awkward attempt to be gallant.

If anything, she looked even more sceptical. “Oh yes, I’m sure.”

He realised she was suggesting that she was physically unappealing, and he wanted to tell her she was wrong. She wasn’t beautiful, but he thought she looked a very pleasant sort of girl. He’d never want to bed her but not because of any deficiency in her person. It was entirely his own deficiency. He opened his mouth to say something reassuring but couldn’t put his thoughts into an acceptable form of words. Instead he stared at her.

“Don’t look so embarrassed, Mr. Lauriston.” She laughed. “I count myself an excellent catch. It’s just that sometimes I wish I was born beautiful.”

Reassured, he blurted out a confession, hidden in an awkward burst of laughter. “Goodness, doesn’t everyone?”

“Oh no, but you—” She halted, and there was a moment’s awkwardness as David stared, helpless, at the flush that stained her cheeks scarlet.

He realised too late how rude he was being and tore his eyes away, looking down at the sheaf of sheet music in his hands. The top one was
Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes
. “What about this one?” he asked, thrusting it under her nose.

She busied herself taking it from him and studying the music while her flush faded. “I think I could manage this one,” she said at last. “It’s nice and slow. Do you sing, Mr. Lauriston?”

David woke the next morning in one of the Jeffreys’ guest bedchambers. It was small but charming, and the east-facing window drew in the morning sun. David had left the drapes open and now he basked in the warmth and brightness that flooded the room, stretching like a cat beneath the bedclothes. It felt luxurious. Between the reeky air and the high, crowded buildings of the Old Town, sunlight rarely penetrated his second-floor rooms.

He could tell from the quality of the light and the character of the birdsong that it was early. He wouldn’t inconvenience Jeffrey’s servants by getting up now and putting them to the bother of making his breakfast. Besides, it was pleasant to lie here, idle, no need to rise and dress and begin working.

Once the Chalmerses had left last night, Mrs. Jeffrey had begun quizzing him about Elizabeth. What was his impression of her? Did he not think her a very superior sort of girl? So clever and sensible. And her family connections would be most advantageous to him, didn’t he think?

David had agreed but demurred that he could not possibly think to court a lady so far above him. Nonsense, declared both Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey. David might not have much money yet, but Chalmers could help him build his reputation. And, Mrs. Jeffrey added, looking at him assessingly, her head to one side, he had so much else to offer. Jeffrey had laughed at that.

They swept aside all his protests and sketched out a glowing and very married future for him. It sounded perfect—or would to any other man in his position. How could he tell them he felt no attraction for women? That he had no intention of marrying?

He was not naïve. He knew that many men with his particular weakness married. He’d even toyed with the idea himself. It would be comfortable to have a wife and family. But always he came to the conclusion, he could not. The trouble was, he was his father’s son.
“Honest to a fault
,
”
as his mother always complained. He couldn’t bring himself to make oaths in church he knew he would be unable to keep. Sooner or later, he always lapsed. His weakness was like an aching tooth, always nagging.

The memory of his last lapse was still strong. Unforgettable, even. And right now it was making him hard, tempting him to indulge in solitary pleasures.

“I want you in my hand.”

Sighing, he pushed the bedclothes down and his nightshirt up, exposing his rigid member to the chilly air. He took hold of himself.

“I want you in my mouth.”

Slowly he stroked, revelling in the dragging pleasure. He closed his eyes and plundered his memory.

“I want to bury my tongue inside you—”

A dark wynd, a bulky body pressing into him, a firm hand tugging his bollocks, sharp teeth nipping his throat. Warm lips kissing the offence away.

“—and fuck you forever.”

It felt like mere moments till he was coming, coating his belly in luscious pulses.

He lay staring at the ceiling for a long while afterwards, regret cooling his blood.

Chapter Five

Chalmers was as good as his word. Early the next week, he sought David out and asked him to work with him on a new case. The client, a Mr. MacAllister, had purchased lands in Fife so he could vote in a swiftly approaching election, but the local magistrates were refusing to enrol the man as a voter. The papers needed to be drafted straightaway. David had to set all his other work aside for several days and work late into the night on Wednesday.

He spent Thursday morning in the faculty library finalising his reading on the new case and the afternoon with Chalmers going through everything in fine detail. Chalmers called himself lazy, but a lazy man could not have acquired his seemingly fathomless knowledge of the law. He picked apart every sentence in the memorial David had prepared, challenging every assumption, demanding to be taken to the evidence for every assertion. David thanked God for the long hours he’d spent on the case. He withstood Chalmers’s interrogation, though not without difficulty, and by the end of it, Chalmers was smiling.

“Good work, lad,” he said, clapping David’s shoulder. “We might even get this case lodged tomorrow. I’ll speak to the solicitor in the morning.” He gathered up the sheaf of papers David had given him and took his leave.

David sat for a moment, overcome with fatigue after his sleepless night. Eventually, he checked his watch, noting wearily that he needed to go if he was to be on time for his appointment with Euan MacLennan.

They were meeting in the Tolbooth Tavern, which had the dual attraction of being close to David’s rooms on Blair Street and only a few minutes from the faculty library.

David’s belly growled as he tidied the rest of his papers away, and he felt a little light-headed as he walked to the cloakroom to collect his greatcoat and hat. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and even then he’d taken only toast and tea. His fingers shook slightly as he fastened his coat.

When he emerged from Parliament House, he saw that it had been raining. The cobblestones were slick, and fat drips of rainwater fell from the roof gutters. The last vestiges of the day’s light were leeching out of the sky as he made his way down the High Street. It was late September now, and the nights were drawing in, a reminder that winter was on its way. Changes in the seasons seemed to creep up on him now that he lived in the city. Not like at home, on the farm, when every nuance of the weather and change in the hours of daylight were part of his working life.

This time of year always meant hard work at the farm. His father and Drew would have been run off their feet with harvesting over the last few weeks, and now they’d have a hundred and one things to do in preparation for winter: storing winter feed, carrying out repairs and doing any other jobs that needed attending to before the cold weather set in.

He should go and see his family soon. It had been months since his last visit, and there might be some big jobs his father could use another pair of hands on.

When he’d last seen them, months ago, in early summer, his father hadn’t been well, and David had had to help Drew mend the barn roof. The weather had been kind, and when David had climbed down the ladder at suppertime, his face had been tight from a day spent in the sun. His body had ached all over too, though in the satisfying way that comes from a man using his body as God intended. It had been a hard day, but good. Companionable.

The aches David got from his daily work—from hunching over his desk and reading late into the night—were earned in a different way. These were physical manifestations of the work his mind did, even as his body atrophied at his desk. The stiffness in his neck and shoulders came from doing too little rather than too much.

Sometimes he needed to exhaust his body as well as his mind. But professional gentlemen did no labour, so when he felt the need for activity, David walked. Miles and miles. Most Saturdays he’d just shove some bread and cheese in his pocket and set off.

He wished he could do that now. Over the last two days, he’d worked to the point of mental exhaustion. Sleep would probably elude him tonight, despite his weariness. Thoughts of the new case still circled persistently in his mind. But it was too late to go walking, and anyway, he had to meet Euan. This short stroll down the High Street would have to do him for now.

The Tolbooth Tavern was quiet when he pushed the heavy wooden door open. Once his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he saw that Euan was one of only three men drinking there.

The lad sat in front of the fire, his back to the door, steam rising from his wet coat as he nursed a small tankard.

“Hello,” David said, taking off his hat and gesturing to the buxom woman behind the bar to bring more ale.

Euan turned in his seat, startled. “Davy! It’s good to see you.”

“Were you caught in the rain?” David asked as he settled himself down.

“Aye. Worse luck.”

The woman arrived with the ale. She plonked a tankard on the table, displaying a large and pendulous cleavage. “Anythin’ else, gents?”

David glanced at Euan questioningly. The younger man shook his head. David thought he looked too thin and worryingly pale.

“What do you have to eat?” David asked the woman.

“I could do you a bit of sausage and gravy.”

“That’ll do,” David replied, without consulting Euan further. “Two plates.”

The woman nodded and swayed back to the bar.

“I haven’t got any money,” Euan muttered once she’d moved away, his colour high.

“I’m paying.”

“I don’t want you to—”

“I’m paying.” David’s tone was final.

There was a brief silence. “Thank you,” Euan said at last. “I need to find work. I’ve been looking.”

“What about your studies?”

Euan fidgeted. “I can’t keep them up without Peter’s help,” he admitted finally.

David stared at him. “You didn’t mention this before. You said you were going back—”

“I can hardly go back if I have no funds, can I?”

“You can’t give up on your studies! Your brother would be horrified.”

Euan gave a mirthless laugh. “I don’t have any choice. Anyway, that’s the least of my worries. I’m more concerned about finding Lees.”