Page 86 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
“I’ve brought each of ye a gift,” Mrs. Johnstone said, retrieving the creamy yellow parasols she’d propped up behind the sofa.
Nell ran a fingertip over the weights sewn into the ribs. “Wielded with a degree of force, this could make quite an impression.”
“I must admit, it is a clever design,” Macie said. “But I have no reason to carry a sunshade after dark.”
“A valid point, indeed.” Mrs. Johnstone displayed an elegant handkerchief she’d stashed in her reticule. The embellished linen square sparkled with tiny bits of stone that had been polished to a shine. “One must properly prepare for any eventuality. Take this bit of lacy fluff. Carried in a purse, ye might access it at any time.” She touched a fingertip to the gleaming weights. “Employed with a flick of the wrist against anattacker’s face, I’d wager he—or she—would think twice before continuing their assault.”
Nell took the cloth in hand. “Genius.”
“Now that we’ve seen a bit of what an ordinary woman can—” Mrs. Johnstone began.
“Ordinary?” Finn disagreed.
Mrs. Johnstone paused. “Should I consider that a compliment, Mr. Caldwell?”
Finn shrugged. “No one could ever view ye as ordinary, Mrs. Johnstone.”
“Indeed,” she said coolly, though a smile lit her eyes. “I do believe in being prepared.
“Now, Macie, as I was saying, I am here to instruct ye in the art of self-defense. That is, if ye’re ready and willing to learn.”
Finn leaned against the sofa table, stretching out his long legs. “God help the badly behaved lord who crosses yer path, Macie. The gent will have more to worry about than a port stain on his cravat.”
Macie met his gaze. “Perhaps his fellow boors will think twice before they vex me.”
“I suspect they already do,” he said. “They simply cannot resist the challenge.”
“Challenge?” Macie said. Was Finn speaking for himself as well?
A wry grin played on his mouth, but his expression suddenly shifted. “It’s not a mystery.” His amber gaze held hers, and for a heartbeat, she nearly forgot they were not alone. “’Tis a universal truth, Macie: men always desire what they cannot possess.”
*
Perched on anoverstuffed chair in her sun-dappled parlor, Maciesipped tea and discreetly studied her guest. Mrs. Johnstone’s attire was elegant, yet no-nonsense, and the woman’s precise manner of speaking brought to mind the harried governess her father had hired to teach Macie to behave like a fine young lady. Pity Miss Beasley’s lessons had offered instruction Macie had little interest in learning.
But Mrs. Johnstone’s fiercely independent demeanor was delightfully different from the dour, always-tasting-a-lemon set of Miss Beasley’s bland features. Unlike the perpetual weariness in the prim governess’s expression, Elsie Johnstone’s eyes twinkled with a bit of mischief. She became especially animated while recalling the youthful exploits of her nephew Logan and his cousin Finn. Following her sister’s death, Mrs. Johnstone had stepped in to assist Logan’s father in raising his two young boys. And there was no denying that the woman’s unique skills might well prove more valuable than Miss Beasley’s consummate mastery of etiquette. After all, it wasn’t as if an attacker would give a fig about impeccable manners.
Mrs. Johnstone had proven her ability to land a vigorous man like Finn on the floor. Why, she’d knocked the breath out of him, and he’d shown reluctance to demonstrate the next phase of her defensive tactics. If she could inspire wariness in a powerful man like Finn, what harm could the woman’s tactics unleash on an aggressor bent on mayhem?
“Well, enough of my reminiscences.” Mrs. Johnstone peered over the rim of her porcelain cup. “We’ve more important matters to discuss. While I fully intend to be of service, I will not be a millstone about your neck.”
Macie took another sip of oolong tea. Had her initial reaction to Mrs. Johnstone’s presence been so very obvious? She decided upon a diplomatic response. “I cannot imagine anyone would ever see you as such.”
“Excellent.” A thin smile brightened Mrs. Johnstone’s eyes. “I recently had the pleasure of attending your Edinburgh exhibit. I understand ye’re now capturing the charm of the Bennington estate.”
“Charm?” Macie considered the word. “If only my father shared your opinion of our grandfather’s home. He sees it only in terms of shillings and pence.”
Mrs. Johnstone lifted a brow. “Andrew Bennington was yer grandfather?”
“Indeed.” Macie pictured the old man she’d adored. “He liked to say we were two of a kind.”
“I can see that,” Mrs. Johnstone said. “I was fortunate to make Andrew’s acquaintance some years ago. My dear husband, Franklin, and I attended a number of dinner parties where yer grandfather was a welcome guest. I am a great admirer of his early work with Greco-Roman antiquities. Andrew’s treatise on the goddess Athena was particularly fascinating.”
“You’ve read my grandfather’s essays?”
“Franklin and I shared an interest in mythology. We greatly enjoyed yer grandfather’s examination of the subject. Many years ago, we traveled to the Mediterranean on our honeymoon to explore. We’d always longed to return.” The light in Mrs. Johnstone’s blue eyes dimmed. “But we waited too long. One night, my husband was taken unexpectedly. And that was that.” She let out a sigh. “But enough about me. Are ye planning a return to the manor in the near future?”
“I’d planned to set up my camera later today,” Macie explained. “When the exterior lighting is just right.”
