Page 13 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
Two familiar male voices confirmed her assumption. Her brother had stopped in the corridor beyond the parlor, looking over the massive wooden staircase that led from the entry hall to the second floor. Finn Caldwell stood at his side, tapping his walking stick against his palm as he examined the intricate carvings on the banister.
Oh, dear.
She certainly had not expected to face him so soon after their impromptu discussion the night before. Truth be told, she’d hoped to avoid seeing him again throughout her stay in London. It wasn’t as if he frequented society soirees. His appearance at Lady Drayton’s ball had been unexpected, even to their hostess.
What fresh manner of torment is this?
“He’s not alone,” Nell observed for effect rather than out of necessity. “Perhaps Mr. Caldwell wished to see you again.”
“Dash it all, Nell.” She threw her friend a scowl. “You know better than that.”
“I understand the two of you made quite a pair, whirling about Lady Drayton’s ballroom,” Nell said in a teasing whisper.
“Ourwhirlinghad more to do with deterring Lady Drayton’s schemes than in any interest beyond that one waltz.”
Nell smiled. “I would not be so sure.”
Turning toward Macie, Finn looked to be biting back a smile. Had he overheard their hushed comments? Should she now addeavesdroppingto the list of his most vexing qualities? Heaven knew the newly gained sense of propriety he had wielded to throw water on the sparks of her plan was a poor fit for the rogue, no matter how well-tailored his gentleman’s clothing. At the very least, her scheme to create a stir of gossip would have proven amusing, even if she had failed to thwart her father’s hopes.
She wouldnotgive him the satisfaction of displaying her annoyance at his unexpected visit to her cobweb-draped sanctuary. Macie forced a smile. “What brings you here today, Mr. Caldwell?”
“I seek another place on yer dance card, my lady.” He sketched a half-hearted bow.
She resisted the urge to scowl. He’d enjoy her pique far too much.
“Dance card?” She softly shook her head. “I cannot say I’ve ever required one. And I doubt I ever shall.”
“I would not be so sure. I suspect yer attention will be in demand in ballrooms throughout London. Unless, of course, Lord Drayton made a considerable impression on ye.”
“He wanted nothing more than to have the evening over and done with. Just as I did. In that regard, we were quite compatible.”
Finn’s gaze swept over her, none too discreetly. “I see ye decided against wearing that shroud again.”
Macie toyed with the cuffs of her crisp white mutton-sleeved blouse. “I’ll have you know I reserve my shrouds for special occasions.”
Finn cocked a brow as Nell looked to be suppressing a giggle. “Ah, so that’s yer strategy.”
“So far, I’d say it has been a grand success.”
“Have ye made it yer life’s work to give yer brother a case of dyspepsia?”
It was Macie’s turn to hike her brows. “Everyone is overly concerned with Jon’s wellbeing, as if my conduct is of paramount importance to his happiness.”
“If his hair turns gray before his time, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Nell quipped as her gaze lit on Finn’s walking stick. “Mr. Caldwell, that’s quite a clever design. I’m rather accustomedto seeing silver wolves or lions. But a gargoyle? How very intriguing.”
“A Welsh silversmith crafted it,” he replied.
Macie studied the intricate detail. “When my brother was a lad, he would tease me with tales of the creatures perched high atop old buildings, ready to swoop down upon a willful child. Like me.”
“I see ye managed to dodge the beasts.” Mischief flashed in Finn’s amber eyes. “Well done.”
“Does it conceal a blade?” Nell asked, moving closer to examine the walking stick. “For purposes of defense, of course.”
He shook his head. “I’ve no need for a sword stick. Wielded with purpose, this serves as a powerful deterrent.”
“Indeed,” Nell agreed. Her features lit up as Macie’s brother strolled up behind Finn.
Seemingly oblivious to what had gone between Macie and Finn the night before, Jon regarded her with an expression usually reserved for funerals. Judging from the furrows in his forehead, he’d been assessing the necessary repairs to the mansion.
