Page 37 of Any Rogue Will Do
There was something in the way he’d taken Adam Hardwick under his wing that reminded Ethan of Cal’s determination to befriend him years ago. “Adam and I are both lucky tae have you as a friend. I have a few cravats I can add tae the donation if you think he could use them.”
“Nice sentiment, but I’ll pass. Your linen is a disgrace.” Cal poured himself another cup of coffee. “Enjoy the lovely Lady Charlotte. Charm Lady Agatha for me.”
Shrugging into his overcoat, Ethan laughed. “Is such a thing possible?” As he pulled on his gloves, he paused, clearing his throat. “Since we’re catching up, there’s another thing. Lottie said something last night. She refuses tae call me Mac.”
“But we’ve always called you Mac.” Calvin rested his elbows on the table and cocked his head, listening.
“Don’ you remember? Some of the lads called me MacBrute that first year. That shortened tae Mac. She says the nickname is disrespectful.”
Cal sat back. “Huh. Never thought of it that way. Always thought it was in good fun, but I see your point. I call you Mac all the time. I don’t mean any offense by it.”
Ethan drummed his fingers on the back of the chair. Ethan was positive Cal, more than anyone, would understand that he wanted to be called by his rightful name. “I know you don’ mean tae offend. Before Lottie brought it up, I’d accepted the name. But she’s right. They called me Mac so no one would forget I don’ belong here. Not really. Just another Scotsman puttin’ on airs, taking a title from a good English family.”
“What are you talking about? You’re worth ten of these young lordlings born with silver spoons in their mouths. What happened with your cousin and his son is tragic, but no one can blame you for being the next in line to inherit. You belong here. Never doubt that,” Cal said.
“Thank you.” Those doubts sometimes crept in, especially when he spent a lot of time in London. A wave of homesickness for Woodrest flooded him. He wanted to bring Lottie to Kent. See if she liked Woodrest and the people who mattered most to him. That might be courting heartache, when their relationship had a time limit. Of course, if he convinced her to give them a chance, he’d have to deal with her father. That man hated him. As it was, once word reached her father, all hell would break loose.
“I feel I should mention,Ethan, that in most relationships, it’s the woman who changes her name.”
Hearing the name his Mum and Da had given him caused a strange feeling of wholeness to settle in him. There might be more to a name than he’d thought. With a grin, he tipped his hat at a rakish angle and stole the last piece of bacon off Cal’s plate before he left.
***
Dawson entered the breakfast room. “Milady, Lord Amesbury has come to call. Shall I have him wait in the drawing room?”
“This early? No, Dawson. I’m unwilling to go another moment without tea. Show him in here.” Sharing breakfast at her table was intimate, but what was the fun of having a fake-fiancé neighbor if she couldn’t break convention?
Ethan walked in, bringing a chill that clung to his coat. The cold dissolved with the look he gave her as he took off his hat. Heavens, his eyes were blue. Somehow brighter this morning. The smile he gave her was another intimacy. Not just friendly but carnal. Seeing that smile, no one would doubt he’d tasted her mouth and he wanted to do it again. Warmth flooded her, and those flames he’d stoked the night before flickered back to life.
“Good morning.” Lord, she was blushing, wasn’t she? Like some schoolgirl instead of a woman of the age to adopt ten cats and a lace cap. “Have you eaten? Would you like chocolate or tea? You’re welcome to join me.”
“I would love a cup of tea,” he said. “You look beautiful this morning.”
The simple compliment somehow made the warmth growing within her worse. “Thank you. I was just, ah, admiring you as well. Oh, how awkward and childish that sounds.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which, yes, were on fire. Pulling herself together, she took a bracing breath and focused on breakfast. “Forgive the informality, but as you’ve already dealt with me in the mornings, you know I’m a bit of a termagant before food.”
She spread strawberry preserves on toast, then took a bite. Agatha’s cook did amazing things with preserves. The strawberries tasted of summer, prompting a happy little sound, which drew a glance from Ethan. She ignored it for the moment. Fresh cream butter with strawberries was the best way to start the day. Ethan poured himself a cup of tea, then sat beside her.
“So what do you have for me this morning?” She sipped from her teacup and waited.
“I come with a proposal. As predicted, thetonwon’ stop talking about our engagement,” he said. “I don’ know about you, but I’d prefer tae just escape it all.”
“Escape sounds lovely. What do you have in mind? I hear Trinidad is beautiful, no matter the time of year. Think they would have forgotten about us by the time we sailed there and back?” She bit into her second piece of toast and washed it down with a sip of tea.
The way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled never failed to charm her. “I’ve always wanted tae see that part of the world. But I was thinking Kent. Woodrest specifically.”
“You want to take me to your estate?” This time, her sip of tea was more of a gulp. Goodness, he wanted to bring her home? That felt like something a real fiancé would do with the woman he planned to marry—not the lady with the temporary role.
“Lady Agatha as well, obviously. We must observe the niceties, after all. Word around London is that we’re so enamored of each other, we’ll be the love match of the Season.” Ethan winked over the rim of his teacup.
“Gossip also says I’m a scheming tart who broke Montague’s heart to marry you for your money. I wouldn’t put too much stock in what people say.” Ethan’s low laugh hit her, making her body vibrate like a tuning fork.
“True. I must like tae love dangerously. Hold still a moment.” He tilted her face toward him. “You have a bit of jam right…here.” Their smiles touched as he nibbled on the corner of her mouth—close, yet not quite on her lips. Giving in to the urge she’d been dealing with since he walked in the door, Lottie turned her head. Kissing him hadn’t been far from her mind since last night, and tasting him again was both familiar and new.
They remained close for a moment, mingling air. “Lottie?”
“Yes?” Her toes were tingling. Were toes supposed to tingle?
“Your bacon smells almost as good as you. Is the offer of breakfast still open?”
