Page 15 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
A grin touched Logan’s mouth. “If ye’re looking to get a round on the house, consider it done.” He turned to Jon. “It’s good to see ye in London again. Ye’re here on business?”
Jon offered a small nod. “In a matter of speaking.”
“A matter of speaking, eh?” Logan replied. “I understand yer sister has accompanied you. Mary Catherine, if memory serves.”
Jon nodded again. “Macie is looking to photograph historic buildings in the city. She might be interested in setting up her camera here.”
“The lass will be welcome any time. Amelia’s planning to invite her to tea at our home. She’s hopeful Macie might be interested in photographing her library.”
“She’ll be delighted at the opportunity.” Jon smiled for the first time that night. “Tell me, MacLaine, have you heard tales of ghosts in the place?”
Logan’s brow furrowed. “Ghosts, ye say?”
“My sister is fascinated by the possibility of spectral activity.”
Logan nodded thoughtfully. “I do not doubt there’s a spirit or two rumbling around Amelia’s library. The building certainly has a history.”
“Interesting,” Jon said. “Please, do have your wife reach out to her.”
“Ye can count on it.” Logan glanced over his shoulder at the bar. A loudmouth’s harsh tones carried back to their table. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a little talk with this gent. In the meantime, I’ll send another round. On the house. I wouldn’t want our mothers to think me a skinflint where myfavoritecousin is concerned.”
Jon watched as Logan cut a direct path to the bar. “He seems happy enough with his lot in life.”
“I’ve never seen a man more content,” Finn said without hesitation. “His new bride is as fetching as she is kind, the tavern is thriving, and Mrs. Langford has found herself a beau, so she’s not hell-bent on taking out Logan’s brougham at all hours of the night.”
“Mrs. Langford?” Questions brimmed in Jon’s eyes. “She drives his carriage?”
“The woman is family to him, though not by blood.” Finn reached for his glass and downed a healthy draught of whisky. “It’s a long story. Too long to get into now. Someday, I’ll fill in the details.”
“Fair enough. Changing the subject, might I ask what the devil you were thinking at the old house? Good bones, eh?”
“I spoke the truth,” Finn said coolly. “Renovating the house will not prove as daunting a task as ye’ve imagined.”
Jon swished the liquor in his glass. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Macie had convinced you to stand on her side.”
“So, ye’re on to us. Yer sister and I have hatched a plot, a sinister scheme to browbeat ye into restoring your grandfather’s home.”
Jon plowed a hand through his hair. “She is so bloody fond of that dusty old tomb. I’ve never seen her so blasted sentimental about anything, let alone an old building.” A muscle clenched and unclenched in his jaw. “Our grandfather knew she’d move heaven and earth to preserve his house.”
Even as lads, Finn had been able to read his friend’s expression. He set his glass down on the table with aclink.“What’s on yer mind, Jon? Ye look like a man condemned to the Tower.”
“A stay in the Tower might be bloody preferable.” Jonathan leaned back against the leather-upholstered chair. “Time on the rack might be easier to abide than trying to rein Macie in.”
“Ye’d have an easier time taming the ocean.” Finn balked at the notion. For some reason he couldn’t quite explain, even to himself, the idea ofreining Macie inirritated him like a pebble in his shoe.
“Now that, my friend, is an understatement.” Jon’s expression was weary.
An all-too-intriguing image of Macie’s impish smile the night before waltzed into his thoughts. Delighted with her own cheek, she’d mingled with London’s elite while wearing a gown that might have passed for a shroud. In the process, she had proven one irrefutable truth: it simply wasn’t possible to dull her beauty.
Finn resisted the urge to grin at the very recent memory. “She has a good bit of yer mum in her.”
“Another understatement.” Jon rubbed his temples with his fingers. “Macie and our mother are the only people on the planet who can render Father speechless. He and Mum are complete opposites. By all rights, she should’ve driven him mad years ago. But he’s still wild for her.”
“And that is as it should be,” Finn said. “I take it she is well.”
“Quite so. Better than our father, in fact.” The furrows in Jon’s brow deepened. “Since Father pushed Macie into this infernal husband hunt, Mum has cultivated a layer of frost toward him as thick as an iceberg.”
“That does not surprise me. I cannot imagine yer mother would place any value on a title.”
