Page 17 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
“Mrs. Langford, I would be obliged to ye if ye’d convince the lady I am not a scoundrel.”
“Why in heaven would I want to do that?”
“Because it is the truth.” He grinned. “Even if I am inclined to get my way.”
The appealing touch of humor in his tone made Amelia smile despite the weary pounding in her head. She heard Mrs.Langford scurry down from the bench, impressively nimble despite the flowing wool of her skirt.
The older woman flashed a warm smile as she entered the coach. “Ye’ve no worries, MacLain. I’ll get the lass on yer side.”
“Ah, ye’re in for a treat,” he said to Amelia, wry amusement flavoring his words.
Mrs. Langford settled onto the bench across from Amelia, so near their knees almost touched. As she smoothed her skirts into place, she made no attempt to hide the fact that she was sizing Amelia up.
“So, lass, I understand ye’re in a bit of a fix.”
“I am confident the situation has been resolved,” Amelia replied, followed by a silent prayer that the words contained more fact than wishful thinking.
As the carriage rumbled down the street with MacLain at the reins, Mrs. Langford’s mouth pulled into a soft smile. “Logan is of a different mind on the matter. Believe me, if he sees a threat, it’s because one is there.”
“I must disagree. The man who tried to harm me is dead,” Amelia explained. The words seemed so very matter-of-fact, yet her pulse hammered with a fresh burst of fear.
“I know he is headstrong. Always has been, since he was a wee lad.” Mrs. Langford lowered her voice as if she confided a grand secret. “But ye will not find a man more true to his word. Logan will watch over ye. He will not let ye down. Ye can count on that.”
Welcoming the warmth in Mrs. Langford’s smile, Amelia bit back the reply that had sprung to mind. In truth, she had no reason to count on Mr. MacLain. Nor to fear he would let her down. Hours earlier, Logan MacLain had been a stranger to her. The events of this evening had not changed the fact that she knew almost nothing about the man other than breathlesslyspoken gossip. But there was no need to dismiss the older woman’s confident assurances.
“He does appear rather determined to play the protector,” Amelia said gently.
“When the courier brought the message to come for the two of ye, I breathed a sigh of relief. The barkeep had already spread the word about the nasty bloke who attacked ye. And in yer own home, no less.” Mrs. Langford lightly touched Amelia’s hand, her expression revealing a genuine concern. “But I shouldn’t have worried over Logan. He’s a scrapper. Always has been.”
“I do hope it was not inconvenient for you and Tim to be summoned for an errand so late into the night.”
“’Tis no trouble. Logan and his family have been good to me. I am happy to return the favor whenever I have the chance.”
“I appreciate your help.”
Amelia peered out the window, searching for a way to change the subject. The more they spoke of Mr. MacLain, the more inclined she was to like the man. Which was most unwise. It was far better not to trust him, far better to not give her trust toanyman. No matter how appealing his raw courage might be.
“I quite enjoyed the outing, dear. That is, until Logan banished me from the driver’s bench.” Mrs. Langford shrugged. “He worries there might be danger afoot, what with criminals lurking about, chasing after ye.”
A reply hovered on Amelia’s tongue, but she held it back. There was no point trying to convince the older woman that Mr. MacLain’s assessment of the situation was not entirely logical. Not that it mattered. Not really. In a few minutes, she’d be home in her own flat, with a cup of chamomile tea, and this dismal night would be near its end.
Minutes of engaging conversation passed between them before the carriage slowed to a stop, mere steps from Amelia’shome. Mrs. Langford glanced out the window, then back to her. “Ye’re the one who opened the lending library?”
The question conjured bittersweet memories. Her brother’s smile as he’d first escorted her into the rather plain brick building that now housed her collection. The sense of accomplishment upon seeing the carpenters install the shelves to house the collection. Her delight when the first shipment of books arrived. Many hours of planning and work had gone into setting up the library. Paul had not fully understood her fierce desire to open an establishment women could view as a haven. But he’d supported her endeavors with his whole heart.
Amelia swallowed against a lump in her throat. “My brother also played a part.”
Seeming to detect the emotion that had swept over her, Mrs. Langford placed a gentle hand over hers, a simple, reassuring touch. “Sometime soon, I may pay ye a visit,” she said. “That is, if ye’ll have me.”
The uncertainty in the older woman’s voice touched Amelia. Did she fear she would not be welcomed by the ladies who frequented the library?
“I do hope you will join us,” Amelia said. “I expect you’ll enjoy the conversation as well as the collection.”
Mrs. Langford flashed a grin. “I would relish time away from the tavern.”
“We must take tea one afternoon,” Amelia offered.
Mrs. Langford’s eyes lit with enthusiasm. “With this chill in the air, I would enjoy a cup of Earl Grey.”
