Smitten by the Spinster (9 page)

“Are there men your own size?” she asked.

Human men, she wanted to clarify. Not Viking demi-gods. The look he gave her made her realize she was flirting with him, and he knew it. There was pure devilry in his eyes.

“Wear the kilt,” she breathed.

“As ye like,” he answered, tilting his chin to Catie, who’d met up with someone further up the path.

All the fun and sparkle darkened to concern when he saw the young man take her hand, and he stepped forward with purpose in his stride. Lizzie tightened her grip on his arm and dug in her heels, alarmed at the stormy look on his face.

“It’s just the neighbor boy. Catie made his acquaintance yesterday. He’s harmless.”

Quinn relaxed slightly, but the menacing look remained. Lizzie stopped in her tracks and tugged on his arm until he looked down at her.

“This is scary,” she said, waving her hand around his face. “If you look at every man who speaks to Catie the way you look right now, she’ll never even get one dance, let alone a marriage proposal.” He slowly relaxed his features to mere stoniness. “Come now, you can do better than that. Try friendly and inviting.”

His face bloomed into a smile at her lightly teasing encouragement and she dropped his arm. Do not liken him to the sun, she told herself, even as she found herself leaning toward him. But he was golden and big, and quite honestly, brighter than the actual sun at the moment, which had given up and retired behind the clouds.

“There you go. That’s perfect,” she said, unable to look at him anymore. “I shall introduce you. Please try not to give the poor kid a heart attack.”

Quinn laughed and took her arm again, pulling her against his side. “Ye must stay close,” he said. “It seems I need a chaperone as much as wee Catie.”

Oliver held his own just fine under Quinn’s fierce greeting. Lizzie unobtrusively poked him in the ribs when he thrust out his hand in an alarmingly aggressive manner, hoping he wouldn’t shake the young man to pieces.

“An honor to meet you, sir,” Oliver said, barely wincing at the firm handshake. “My family has a property in the lowlands. My grandmother was a Dunbar.”

Well, well. He was clearly working to impress Quinn, which meant he already had designs on Catie.

“We dinna get to the lowlands much,” Quinn said. “Though I think I came across a Dunbar in a pub once. He liked to hear the sound of his own voice, got verra drunk and began to sing on one of the table tops. Someone tossed him into the street, and he kept on warbling, even after he got doused with a bucket of water.”

“That’ll be one of my relatives, I’ve no doubt,” Oliver laughed.

Lizzie had to struggle not to groan. She’d have to investigate Oliver further, but didn’t think he was suitable at all. For one thing, his family wasn’t in any dire straits, and would have no need to be grateful to her for facilitating the match. She needed to throw a wrench in soon, before Oliver got it in his head that he couldn’t live without Catie. She clearly already liked him a lot, and Quinn seemed impressed with his good natured ability to be teased. Double damn.

Oliver kept being charming, making Catie and Quinn laugh with mild, inoffensive stories about various London families, and even cracking Lizzie up once, to her irritation. She had to remember it was early days still, and Catie would meet many more young gentleman, and hopefully one of them would overshadow this sweet, adorable pup.

If Lizzie made anywhere near a respectable amount of money from her wages alone, she’d be perfectly pleased to let nature take its course, but she didn’t. If Lord Ashford’s rescue effort didn’t work, she needed every extra shilling she could get for her freedom savings fund.

After an annoyingly enjoyable walk in the park, they returned to the house to find the hall loaded with newly arrived parcels from the dressmaker. They all looked at one another with various expressions. Catie, horrified and delighted at once. Quinn, a bit shocked that there were so many. Lizzie, uncertain. Now the real work began. Two footmen carried the packages upstairs and Catie tore after them, leaving Lizzie and Quinn in the front hall.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “So it begins,” he said, as if he’d read her mind.

“Indeed, sir,” she said.

“Tomorrow shall be the first grand event?” he asked. “I hope she does well. Though I shouldna doubt it with ye to guide her. Ye’ve done wonders for her.”

Stunned at his sincere compliment, she nodded stiffly. “Thank you. I assure you it’s all Catie.” She let go of his arm and climbed the stairs, feeling his eyes on her as she went.

Catie practically rolled on the bed in the midst of her new gowns, she was so excited. Lizzie knew she should say something, but let her have her fun for the moment. Her first ball was that evening and she’d have to sit quietly in a chair to get her hair done, then get tugged and yanked into the chosen gown, then have to be scrutinized the rest of the night.

“I still dinna understand how she got them all done so fast,” Catie said, finished prodding at them.

Lizzie shuddered to think about that, and prayed it wasn’t orphans. If she got stuck here, she planned to adopt at least one unfortunate child, and take him or her away from the workhouses to run and play in the sun at her cottage in the country.

“She’ll want you to remain her customer, so had all her assistants working non-stop, no doubt.”

“Which one, Miss Burnet?” she asked, holding up a beautiful cream and rose gown, her arms shaking under the weight of all the rich fabrics.

Lizzie nodded to the pale blue one that lay on the bed. “That one brings out your eyes, which are your loveliest feature. This will be your debut.”

Catie swallowed hard and dumped the pink one. “Verra well. I like them all. I’ve never had this many gowns all at once, and never any so fine.”

“Better get used to it if you decide to stay in London. The ladies here get new gowns several times a year.”

“I canna wait,” Catie breathed, twirling with her gown as if it was a dance partner. Lizzie was glad to see she was light on her feet. “May I see what you’ll be wearing?” she asked shyly when she stopped suddenly, blinking with dizziness.

“I shall be wearing the dove gray dress I wore to dinner night before last,” she said, trying not to sound begrudging.

She knew it shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. But she would have liked to wear one of the gorgeous fancy gowns of this era, and danced every dance at one of the balls. Instead, she’d be sitting on the sidelines, nodding and having polite, tense conversations with irritable mothers, and hoping her charge didn’t bring shame on her family or Lizzie’s good name as a chaperone.

“That’s a verra nice dress,” Catie said politely, but looked a little disappointed.

“I’m not there to attract a beau, sweetie,” she said. “I’ll be there to look forbidding and keep the wolves away from you.”

At that, she erupted into laughter. “No wolf would ever be after the likes of me,” she said. “My brother would likely fit that description. Perhaps ye should chaperone Quinn as well.”

Lizzie tried not to blush or blink, keeping her face perfectly still. She hadn’t yet seen Quinn today, he’d left before anyone else got up for breakfast. But she knew he would be accompanying them tonight and it had been giving her shivers all day long. Stupidly. There was no reason to get shivers, she told herself. She must have had a look on her face that Catie misunderstood, because she jumped to his defense.

“I’ve spoken with him, Miss Burnet. He willna get drunk or embarrass us, I promise ye. And he also swore not to scare any potential husbands away.”

“Catie,” Lizzie said firmly. “Your brother has been nothing but a perfect gentleman. I have no doubts about this evening.”

Catie perked up. “Perfect gentleman? He’ll be glad to hear ye think so.”

Oh, dear. She had to put a stop to this. “He will not, because you will not tell him we discussed him. In fact, it’s highly improper to speak of your guardian in such a manner.” Lizzie forced herself not to look away from Catie’s hurt face.

As much as she liked her, this young girl was not her friend. Her brother was not her friend, or anything else to her. Most definitely nothing else. At last Catie nodded and looked away.

“Of course, ma’am. I’m verra sorry. Ye’re right.”

Lizzie sighed inwardly and told her she should try to get a nap, using all her willpower not to pat her shoulder as she left the room.

***

Catie paused at the top of the stairs, clearly embarrassed to be the object of attention. Lady Amberly clung to Lizzie’s hand and gazed up at her niece, which caused Lizzie to have feelings she struggled to squash.

“She’s actually a beauty,” Lady Amberly said.

Indeed, Catie looked stunning with her hair twisted and cajoled into a fashionably intricate style, all interlaced with baubles and ribbons. Her dress was a work of art, and it never failed to impress Lizzie how much money really did talk, that such an extravagant gown could be finished in two days, and all of it hand sewn.

Catie’s cheeks glowed as she let herself be hugged and needlessly adjusted by her aunt.

“You’re going to be the brightest one there tonight,” Lizzie assured her.

“Indeed, lass, I’ve never seen ye look so well,” Quinn said from behind them.

Lizzie turned to see his proud expression, feeling quite proud herself, and nearly dropped dead at the sight of him. If she’d thought having him swathed in miles of plaid fabric was going to lessen his impact on her, she’d been wrong. So wrong. The dark red and deep greens only accentuated the bronze waves of his hair, and instead of being swallowed up, he seemed even bigger, stronger and more confident.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, that wicked twinkle in his eye as he bowed to them.

Lady Amberly whipped out her fan and waved it in front of herself. Lizzie had the urge to either wrap her arms around him or smack him. As if once again reading her thoughts, he winked at her over Lady Amberly’s head. What was even worse was Catie caught him winking at her and now she had a knowing smirk on her face. God, these Scots.

“Miss Burnet, a message for you.” The footman cleared his throat and handed her a crumpled note. “He said it was urgent or I’d not have interrupted. He bobbed apologetically at Lady Amberly before fleeing the front hall.

“Oh dear, I hope all is well with your uncle, Miss Burnet. We really cannot do without you tonight,” Lady Amberly said, her voice laced with concern but her face disapproving.

Lizzie took a step away, her heart sinking as she unfolded the wrinkled piece of paper, noting with some alarm that it was another scrap of notebook paper from her own era, though the blue lines were almost completely faded. It was a tersely scrawled demand to meet that night, in an area that seemed shady in the light of day, downright dangerous after dark. She didn’t recognize the handwriting as Lew’s and furthermore, he always had her meet him at Belmary House. The very thought of meeting in such a spot would have sent him into a tizzy.

She nervously tucked the note away to analyze it later, pretty sure it wasn’t from Lew, but uncertain who else would want to meet her clandestinely. Could it be from Lord Ashford? She felt dizzy and blinked up at the three faces before her, all ranging from true concern to slight irritation.

“It’s nothing,” she said, too flustered to come up with a cover story. “It’s really not urgent. The messenger must have been mistaken. It’s nothing that couldn’t have waited until morning.”

Lady Amberly scowled after the footman, but quickly recovered when Quinn offered his arm. Lizzie took Catie’s arm and followed them, trying to relax and not obsess over what the cryptic summons meant. She rested her eyes on Quinn’s back, which just riled her up in a different way. How could she have thought a kilt could tame his wild masculine beauty?

Lady Amberly got into the carriage first, followed by Catie, who sat next to her, which left Lizzie wedged in next to Quinn, their legs and shoulders bumping at each grinding turn of the wheels. She felt exhausted from holding herself stiffly away from him, clinging to the side of the carriage like a barnacle, all while trying not to be obvious about her discomfort. When they rolled up in front of the townhouse and were helped down by elegantly dressed footmen, she breathed a sigh of relief to be out of Quinn’s dangerous gravitational pull.

Both Catie and Lady Amberly were agog at the sumptuous party. It was a large affair, at one of the nicest houses, and would serve well to get Catie acquainted with society while not putting too much pressure on her as a more intimate setting would have done.

“Don’t be nervous,” Lizzie said as she hustled her into the thick of things.

 Catie beamed from ear to ear at all the newness and sparkle that surrounded her, the complete opposite of nervous as introductions were made. People began noticing her, whispering to themselves that she must be the mysterious Scottish heiress everyone had been talking about. Before Lizzie could even fully manage anything, Catie had three dances lined up. Things were moving impossibly fast.

Deciding that nothing too untoward could happen if she let Catie have a little fun, she sank into a chair on the sidelines and eyed the buffet. There were probably some delicious offerings but her dove gray dress was impossibly laced tonight. She didn’t know why, but she’d had a flash of vanity and really sucked it in while Tessa helped lace her up.