Page 6 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
Rotherby leaned forward and spoke in an insistentwhisper. “I might refresh your memory about the night you and Rowe dared each other to break into the Tower of London to steal a peacock. Thank God I’m a duke, else the both of you would have been arrested.” He shot a glance at the countess before returning his attention to Duncan. “Spare me your protestations about indecorous behavior. You can be as wild as a creature freed from a zoo.”
Duncan’s entire body went rigid. “With the rest of the Union, yes. Beyond that...” He tried to exhale, but it felt rough and ragged. Everything in his life felt rough and ragged. “Warfare changes people, Rotherby. It changedme.”
His friend’s gaze softened. “I know.”
A thread of gratitude unwound from Duncan’s chest. For all his high-handedness, Rotherby could be surprisingly attuned to others’ emotions. Well—the Union of the Rakes’s emotions. When it came to people outside of their circle, Rotherby easily slipped into ducal arrogance.
Yet if there was anyone Duncan could trust with private truths, it was Rotherby.
“I was responsible for my men,” he said lowly. “Not just their movements as soldiers, but their welfare aspeople. I was the one watching over them as they slept, I was the one always thinking about how to keep them fed, how to make sure they didn’t run riot in a captured town.”
He clenched and unclenched his hands as thoughpushing back tides of invisible memories. “Every moment was consumed with my responsibility. I didn’t have the luxury of being rowdy, being free.”
Glancing out the window at the terrace and the garden beyond, he saw not the handsome and well-maintained green space but the battlefields and ruined towns of the Peninsula. “Can’t just shut that off like a spigot.”
“Understood.” Rotherby placed his hand on Duncan’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “My goal was merely to provide you with a small holiday. I doubt the journey will be at all treacherous, thus enabling you to simply enjoy a respite from the heat and tedium of the city in the summer.”
“It’s appreciated,” Duncan said sincerely.
“However, if taking the countess to Nottinghamshire brings difficult emotions to the fore, you needn’t. I release you from any agreement.”
Here was an opportunity to walk away, his honor intact. And yet... “As you said, the countess is a friend of yours.”
“Jess is especially fond of her, and whatever and whomever she values, I value, too. She would be extremely grateful to know that, slim as the chance might be, no harm would come to Lady Farris.”
“If the countess’s well-being is a concern to your wife, I’ll see to it that Lady Farris is kept safe.” Duncan didn’t consider friendship in terms of a balance of favors. He had no expectations of receiving anythingin exchange for the help he’d give one of the Union, and he knew the other men felt the same.
Yet Rotherby had given him a chance to begin again, a chance for purpose and meaning as Carriford’s estate manager. Surely a week in the company of the exasperating countess was a small price for an incalculable benefit. Duncan owed Rotherby, and he’d never be able to rise from his bed every morning if he didn’t give back the generosity he’d received.
His friend exhaled and gave Duncan a small smile. “She’ll be in excellent hands.” He turned to Lady Farris. “I believe we are in accord, my lady.”
She moved toward them—Duncan had a brief impression of her long stride and the skirts of her blue gown streaming behind her—and said, “Thank you, Your Grace, for arranging this. You should know, Major,” she added, turning to Duncan, “if you’re in search of a concrete itinerary, you’ll be profoundly disappointed. My coachman knows the route, but as to when and where we stop, that is dependent on the conditions of the road and the condition of the horses.”
“An estimate of mileage is not entirely out of the realm of possibility,” he answered.
“I am not looking for a keeper, Major.”
“Nor do I intend to be one, ma’am.”
She lifted a finger. “I merely need someone to make certain my coach isn’t held up by highwaymen and no one bothers my person.”
“All of that will be attended to.” He’d no intentionof letting her be harmed on this journey. “You’ll be safe in my company. When I accept my duty, I carry it out.” He gave her a military bow—and she exhaled. He wasn’t certain, but the noise she made sounded as though she found himamusing.
His spine turned to iron.
She drew herself up and stroked her hand along her neck, the gesture seemingly habitual. His gaze followed the course of her fingers along her skin, lingering at the places where her fingertips rested. She said, “We depart from my town house first thing tomorrow morning.”
“McCameron’s punctual,” Rotherby answered confidently. “Always exactly where he’s supposed to be.”
Not so certain of that, Duncan thought as he watched the countess turn and glide from the room.
Chapter 2
What did one pack for an orgy?
It was a question Beatrice Sloane, the Dowager Countess of Farris, had never faced before, and the prospect filled her with giddy anticipation. She flitted from her luggage to her writing desk—where she was halfway through penning a letter to her eldest son—and back. Concentration was in short supply, but it couldn’t be helped when she was about to embark on the latest step in her journey of personal fulfillment.
Edward had been dead for three years, and she’d come out of mourning ten months ago. In that time, she’d done everything she could to ensure she had the life she’d wanted but had been denied for decades. Now, finally, she was allowing herself something that she had long dreamt of but never had the ability to make into reality.
