Page 11 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
“Aweeghost? No.” Nell paused again, this time to sweep her gaze over a fig-leaf-clad marble Adonis who peered down upon them from his solid perch. “But who’s to say that’s the only spectral creature roaming through this place?”
“I encountered my first spirit here when I was a girl still in braids,” Macie said. “As you can see, it did no harm.”
Nell reached up to brush a cobweb from the Adonis’s meticulously chiseled buttocks, then slanted her a skeptical look. “Perhaps it liked you because it sensed a kinship. Unlike you, I’ve no desire to bandy words with a phantom. When I’m alone in the dark, I much prefer to dream about some dashing scoundrel or two.”
“How very outrageous!” Macie said, pressing her hands to her cheeks in a look of feigned shock.
“Oh, don’t even try to pretend you have not invited a rake into your boudoir, even if the gent is imaginary. I can only hazard a guess as to how many times you’ve read and rereadPride and Prejudice. And I suspect it’s not merely to enjoy Lizzie Bennet’s wit.”
Macie pursed her lips. “And I suppose you have never swooned over a romantic hero.”
Nell waved away the thought. “I make no such claim. Why, only last night I dreamt of Mr. Darcy. He was preparing for a hot bath after a vigorous bout of bare-knuckle boxing.”
“Oh, dear. You certainly do know how to paint a vivid picture with words.” Macie playfully fanned herself. “Pity Fitzwilliam Darcy is not a true scoundrel.”
Nell lifted a brow. “Unlike the rogue who gallantly saved you from a nasty tumble?”
“Good heavens, word does travel quickly.”
Nell looked to be biting back a little grin. “Mr. Caldwell’s quick reflexes are a valid subject of conversation, I would say.”
“I’d imagine my decided lack of grace was of more interest.”
“From what I’ve heard, more than one woman in attendance regretted she had not thought to take a conveniently timed spill,” Nell teased. “I’d say it was a rather brilliant stroke of luck. After all, a dashing scoundrel is precisely what you needed to send Lord Drayton and his harpy of a mother scurrying off.”
An image of a man who fit the bill rather nicely invaded Macie’s thoughts, and she fought the urge to frown. Scoundrels weren’t supposed to care about her honor. Rakes did not give two half-pennies about compromising a woman. Rogues would not spare a thought to preserving a woman’s good name.
But Finn had done just that.
Drat the luck
“Sadly, Lady Drayton was not so easily deterred,” Macie said, motioning to Nell to follow her to the parlor. “Though I must say her son had little interest in his mother’s scheme. He’d much rather have been peering through his telescope than making inconsequential banter with me.”
“If you truly wish to scare off Lord Drayton, simply inform him you wish to take up residence here.” Nell paused as they passed a marble bust of some long-dead king and blew a bit of dust off the bloke’s prominent nose. “That should do the trick.”
“The ghost of MacBeth himself could not deter Lady Drayton.”
Entering the parlor, she pondered the rays of sunlight creeping in through the glazed windows. For now, she’d leave the off-white sheets in place on the settee and chairs, optimizingthe mood. So much the better to create a scene that brought specters to mind.
“Good heavens, Macie! What is that?” Nell’s usually melodic voice had gone up an octave or so.
“That?” Macie struggled to discern what precisely had set her friend into a stir.
“That...lurking there.” Nell pointed to the draperies by the parlor window. Had her shudder at the simple rustling of curtains been genuine or a demonstration of her decided flair for the dramatic?
The fabric swayed, and one small black paw poked out from the shadows. “Oh, Cleo, you naughty minx,” Macie said, coaxing her cat from her hiding place.
“That little beast is going to give me heart palpitations.” Nell glared at the feline, then smiled as she crouched to pet her. A ray of sunlight glimmered off its collar. “You are a sneaky little girl, aren’t you?” She glanced up at Macie. “I’m tempted to believe you taught her to give me a fright.”
Macie grinned. “If only that were possible. Cleo is far too independent to be trained.”
“A bit like you, my friend.” Scooping up the cat, Nell studied its sparkly, adorned collar. “Crystals? For a cat? This must’ve cost a pretty penny.”
“An exquisitely pretty penny. And then some.”
“Does your father know how much you spent?”
Macie shrugged. “Not yet. But once his man of business attends to my shopping accounts, I imagine Papa will include a few choice words in his next letter.”
