Page 9 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
Finlay scrubbed a hand across his chin. Thank God Alethea and Darington were returning soon.
He didn’t have an appointment until later in the afternoon, but he couldn’t stay at Rockhaven House. He had a mound of correspondence on his desk, and he hadn’t finished reading through the cost analysis for the updates to the bathing facilities at the Court, in addition to the pile of other business reports he should read. Yet the crisp autumn air beckoned, so he wandered, his feet eventually bringing him to St. James’ Park. He paced along a quiet side path, lost in his thoughts, when the sound of approaching horse hooves drew his attention.
“Lord Firthwell, how good to see you. I didn’t know you’d returned to town. I thought you were still playing the role of the country gentleman in Herefordshire.”
Lady Flora Campbell sat her mare with a bright smile on her face. Finlay had always been of the belief that her dimples made her appear mischievous rather than charming, so he paid sharp attention when in her company.
“No one knows I’m merely playing the role, my lady, so I must ask you not to compromise my performance,” he said with a wink.
She brought her black mare to a halt on the path in front of him, dismounting expertly before he could raise a hand to assist her. Looping her mount’s reins around her hand, she offered him a quick curtsy. “I’ve never seen you look quite so serious. Are you unwell?”
“I’m certain your charming presence will cure me of any imagined malady I happen to be suffering,” Finlay said, sweeping her an elegant bow.
“What rot,” she said, tapping his arm with her crop. “Your glib words may leave the female half of London swooning at your feet, but you needn’t waste such ammunition on me.” She peered up into his face and arched a full, black brow. “You know I’m immune to your charm.”
Finlay held out his bent elbow, tucking her arm around it before he whispered in her ear, “If I really meant to charm you, my lady, even you would be felled.”
Her delighted laugh rang around them, and Finlay couldn’t help but smile in return. “My, Firthwell, that was quite good.”
“And are you felled?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“Unfortunately…for you…I’m not.” She patted his arm in mock concern. “I hope your ego can withstand the blow.”
Finlay dropped his head and shook it. “I had hoped to be able to add Lady Flora Campbell to my list of admirers. I guess I’ll have to content myself with winning the admiration of all the other belles of the ball.”
“Oh, I am your very great admirer,” she responded, her green eyes sparkling merrily when they met his. “I just have no interest in making you my husband.”
He clutched his hand to his chest. “The blows keep coming.” He studied her for a moment, taking in her smirk. “I would be devastated by your rejection, but I understand you don’t intend to marry.” Alethea had shared that piece of information when he questioned why the young woman had not secured a match.
Flora shrugged. “Not if I can help it. But that certainly hasn’t stopped men from asking and people from speculating, especially now that Alethea has wed.”
“That sounds horrid.” While he could escape to Herefordshire whenever London gossip began to annoy him, Lady Flora did not have that luxury.
“Yes, well,” she grumbled. Abruptly, she squeezed his arm. “So, I understand we have two weeks to wait until they return.”
A pleasant warmth spread in Finlay’s chest.“According to Alethea’s letter, they should arrive around the middle of November. It will be nice to have them home.”
“It will. I have missed her fiercely.” She released a laugh. “My aunt blames my less-than-proper behavior on the loss of your sister’s good influence.”
Finlay raised a brow. “Obviously, you haven’t disclosed how scandalously she behaved where Darington was concerned.”
“Of course not. I need to save my knowledge of that for a time when I’m very much in need of her cooperation.”
He coughed as he choked down a laugh. “My, you are ruthless. If you were born a man, you could build an empire.”
“Oh pish, one doesn’t need to be a man to build an empire,” she said staunchly. “I daresay any clever woman is up to the task.” Flora looked off to the side until Finlay could only see the curve of her cheek. “In all seriousness, I would never do anything to hurt Alethea or Darington. She is my dearest friend, and I don’t make friends easily.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“With Allie in the West Indies, my sister with her duke in Yorkshire, and you,” she said sharply, cutting him a disgruntled look, “seeing to your estates in Herefordshire, London has been a lonely place.”
“Well, count on me for any riding adventures you have in mind. Heaven knows I need a firm excuse to go out of doors lest I become immersed in work.” He offered a half smile. “And pencil my name next to the supper waltz at the Gillingham ball.”
“You’re too kind, Firthwell, but I will accept your offer.” She sighed. “I’ve been so deprived of intelligent conversation, I’d willingly court gossip about a match between us to genuinely laugh over a truly witty comment.”
Finlay fought back a frown. People had been quick to imagine his friendship with Flora as something more, especially as their connection to Alethea brought them together frequently. Alethea had even hinted to them at her wedding, and later through letters, how happy it would make her if her twin and best friend made a match. He’d laughed aloud at the notion, and thankfully so had Flora.
She pursed her lips as she studied him. “You need someone soft. Pragmatic. Who will find humor in your horrible jests and keep you on your toes.”
