Page 14 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
“Honestly, Macie, we would be well-advised to salvage the more valuable fixtures and tear the place down,” Jon said, ever practical as always. He was like that, the sensible heir always striving to prove his worth in their father’s eyes. Jon was a scholar at heart, not a cutthroat tycoon. In Papa’s view, that was a definite disadvantage.
“How can you say such a thing?” She shot him a fierce look. “This house holds so many fond memories.”
“And ghosts,” Nell chimed in.
“Memories will not pay the bills.” Jon’s frown deepened. “Unless the ghosts lurking about are skilled carpenters, it would make better sense to put this place out of its misery.”
“I won’t hear of it.” Macie kept her voice steady, reining in her emotion. “Grandfather left this house to me. He knew I would preserve it. There’s a great deal of history within these walls.”
“I have to agree with Miss Mason.” Finn spoke up. Returning to the entry hall beyond the parlor, he tugged on the handrail of the main staircase. “Solid, as you can see. The house looks worse than it is. The place has good bones.”
Macie regarded him for a long moment, nearly shocked into speechlessness. If he had uttered artificially poetic compliments of her beauty, her attire, or her ability to waltz without treading upon his toes, his words would have been meaningless to her. But he had actually agreed with her. And contrary to her brother’s view, no less. That was truly something.
Jon scowled at his old friend. “Remind me why I even thought to let you know we were in London.”
Finn regarded him with a patient expression. “Perhaps ye recall that between bouts of gambling and raising Cain while we were at university, I did learn a bit about architecture.”
Her brother regarded him with a dubious slant of his brows. “On those rare occasions when you actually showed your face in the lecture hall.”
“As I recall, the university actually provided me with a piece of parchment bearing my name in a fancy script. I suppose that means something.” As he turned back to Macie, the faintest of smiles curve his mouth. “I take it ye will put some faith in my opinion.”
Faith?It was a bit too soon for that, wasn’t it? But she wasn’t about to admit that. Not in front of Jon, at least.
“As long as we can persuade my tight-fisted brother not to abandon this house, I suppose I must.”
“Humbug,” Jon muttered, though he looked a bit too cheerful to have made a convincing Scrooge.
She folded her arms at the waist and glared at him. “Such a pity our parents did not think to name you Ebenezer.”
“Surely you’re not forgetting what it’s going to take to convince the old man to advance the funds to restore this place? You and I both know that Father won’t spend a dime unless he views it as an investment.”
Jonathan hadn’t intended his words to cut. But they did.Investment.Such as this time in London. Macie knew full well why her father had agreed to finance this visit to the city. And she also knew the payment he expected to extract from her in the form of a fancy title.
“I am aware of that.” She pulled in a low breath. “Don’t worry, Jon. Papa will get what he wants. He always does.”
Chapter Five
Seated at hisusual corner table in the Rogue’s Lair, Finn leaned back in his chair, stretched out his legs, and took in the sights and brashly cheerful sounds of the tavern. Relaxing for the first time in hours, he idly swirled the rich amber whisky in his glass. Lifting his gaze, he studied Jon’s expression. Seeing the expression on his friend’s face, he realized his own respite would be short-lived.
Jon reached for his drink and downed a gulp of scotch. The whisky seemed to ease the set of his jaw, but there was no disguising the rigid tension in his body. His once-jovial nature had evaporated, the strain of living up to his father’s expectations etched in the lines on Jon’s face.
Finn had first noticed the transformation upon his friend’s return to London, but tonight, Jon seemed especially on edge. When he’d requested that they find a place to talk—specifically, a place away from Macie’s ears—his tone had been terse, sharply clipped.
What in blazes was going on? And what did Macie have to do with it?
Had Jon’s father settled on a whey-faced but suitably titled nitwit for Macie?Bloody hell.The very thought of it set Finn’s back teeth on edge. Macie didn’t deserve to be bartered for a puffed-up title that might allow her father to drown out the talk ofnew moneyhe so detested.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” Logan MacLain strolled up to the table. Newly married to a beauty who’d tamed the man once rumored to be an outlaw, the tavern’s owner bore the unmistakable look of a man thoroughly contented with his life.Lucky bastard.At least Logan had the good sense to know how bloody fortunate he was.
“Is that any way to greet yer favorite cousin?” Finn replied with a chuckle.
“Favorite?” Logan cocked a brow. “Given how prolific my father’s siblings have been at reproduction, I’ve more than a dozen kin who could fit that description.”
“Ah, ye wound me,” Finn said dryly, slipping into the brogue that came easily when he was in the company of his Highland kin. “If I had not spoken certain words of wisdom, an ocean might now separate ye from the lass ye took as yer bride.”
“I would have come to my senses soon enough.” A smile played on Logan’s mouth. “With or without yourwisdom. If I’d had to swim across the blasted Atlantic, I would’ve gone after Amelia.”
Finn shrugged. “I’d like to think my advice saved ye the trouble. Not to mention keeping ye from becoming food for the sharks.”
