Page 25 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
“Likewise, my lady,” Mr. Rowe said.
“Do join us, please.” She waved to the table, and in short order, Duncan’s friends brought over two more chairs and sat with them. “You three talk like the very oldest of friends. The male combination of insult and affection.”
Curtis smirked. “God forbid we should actually let the others know how much they mean to us.”
“And let you get inflated ideas of your self-worth?” Duncan demanded and snorted.
“We can’t have anyonevaluethemselves, Major,” Lady Farris said, and the playful swat she gave his shoulder sent hot filaments of awareness through his body.
He shifted in his seat and didn’t miss how Rowe gazed at him speculatively.
The countess took a sip of wine before asking, “How long have you known each other?”
“Twenty years,” Curtis answered.
“Since we were at Eton,” Duncan explained. “Met in the library when we were being disciplined.”
Her eyes went round with incredulity. “What on earth could have beenyourinfraction? Excessive punctuality?”
Before he could refute that, Rowe said with a grin, “Brawling, if you can believe it.”
“I absolutely cannotbelieve that.” Her look was both aghast and delighted. “Major, there are sides to you that I’m unable to fathom.”
“A boy accused me of cheating,” Duncan muttered. “Couldn’t let that stand.”
She clapped her hands together. “OfthatI am certain. It makes a beautiful kind of sense—you get into trouble for following the rules.”
Rowe and Curtis hooted, and Duncan kicked each of them in the ankle. For all their teasing, however, the strangest peace settled over him to have the countess and his oldest friends together and getting along. Granted, they were united in pestering him, but it felt oddly right.
Lady Farris stood, and when Duncan and the others moved to rise, she motioned for them to remain seated. “Much as I enjoy tormenting the major with you, the day has been a long one and I’m for bed. I will bid you all abonne nuit. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“I’ll walk you to the room,” Duncan said, getting to his feet.
She held up a hand. “Very courteous of you, but not needed. This is a respectable inn, and I’m relatively certain that my journey upstairs will be a peaceful one. Stay and enjoy your friends’ company.”
“Very well.” In a lower voice he added, “Expect I’ll be down here some time, catching up with Curtis andRowe and such. You’ll want to go to sleep before I return.”
“I’ll be sure to set aside some bedding and a pillow for you.” With a smile and a nod, she left the taproom.
Only when Curtis cleared his throat did Duncan realize that he continued to stare after Lady Farris.
Avoiding his friends’ curious gazes, he dropped back into his seat. “Tell me what lures you from the city.”
“You first,” Rowe said affably.
Duncan hesitated, disliking the thought of lying to his friends. He couldn’t very well tell them that he was escorting Lady Farris to an orgy. Neither Rowe nor Curtis were cut from the cloth of staid tradition, but that didn’t mean they would greet his news with calm nods of acceptance. And surely the countess wasn’t inclined to let the world know about her personal activities.
“Rotherby asked me to accompany the countess on her journey to see a friend in Nottinghamshire,” he finally said, which was a version of the truth. “Added security.”
“No one better for that job than you,” Curtis said, then added because clearly he could not let a sincere comment stand, “you prickly bastard.”
Thinking of Lady Farris’s comment about male friendship, Duncan couldn’t help but snort at this. It didn’t seem to matter that they were four and thirty rather than fourteen—if there was an insult to begiven, it would be. “And what of you? Why stray so far from your usual disreputable haunts?”
“Rowe’s giving a paper—” Curtis began.
“At Sandimas University,” Rowe added. “It’s about the history of political movements in England.”
“And you’re his bodyguard?” Duncan grinned as he glanced at Curtis.
