Page 12 of Miss Delightful
Alasdhair considered grabbing Shroop by the lapels and administering some Elixir of Truth here among the orts and leavings of unfortunate lives.
But no. Not today. Not with a lady present. “We are off to St. James’s,” Alasdhair said. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Shroop.”
Miss Delancey waited while Alasdhair held the door for her, then she took his arm as they crossed the street. “What an odious, disgraceful man.”
“He fulfills a need.”
“So does a privy, Mr. MacKay. Do you think he extorted favors from Melanie?”
So does a privy?“No. I’d have pummeled him to flinders otherwise.”
“Good. You’d have spared me the trouble.”
She marched on down the walkway, her stride more than matching Alasdhair’s. He flipped the beggar a coin and kept his gaze on the foot traffic all around them.
Inside, though, he was trying very hard not to smile. Melanie’s death was a tragedy and something of a mystery. The winter weather was growing downright nasty, and finding a situation for John weighed increasingly on Alasdhair’s mind.
But the notion of Miss Delancey putting up her fives to teach Shroop a lesson… Alasdhair would like to see that, and his money would be on the lady.
* * *
What you have isa bad temper… I like that about you.
Dorcas had no idea where she was going, striding along at Mr. MacKay’s side, but he knew. He knew the alleys and pawnshops, the crossing sweepers and taverns. He’d also known she was angry.
Dorcas had nearly forgotten that about herself, so ingrained had the habit of concealed ire become. Admirable reformist zeal, Papa called it, usually with a pained smile as he trotted off to have supper with this or that functionary from Lambeth Palace.
He would never become a bishop, and he would never reconcile himself to that fate.
“I am peckish,” Mr. MacKay said. “Would you dare be seen breaking bread with me?”
He was peckish, while Dorcas was cold. “A cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss.” Or another nip from his flask… but no. That way lay disaster.
“If we turn left at the next crossing, we’ll be one street away from a tea shop. They do a good job with sandwiches and baked goods.”
Tea shops were a recent addition to the city’s offerings, a genteel variation on the old coffeehouses, which had been primarily male domains.
“Do you have a map of the whole city in your head?”
“I am a former reconnaissance officer. When you grow up in the Scottish Borders, you learn to pay attention to landmarks and navigate by the stars.”
He’d beena spy? Spying was held in low repute, and yet, Wellington had relied heavily on his intelligence officers.
“How did a former reconnaissance officer from the Scottish Borders make my cousin’s acquaintance, Mr. MacKay?”
“Melanie and I met in the park. I was walking my horse, who’d picked up a stone. I’d got the stone out, but was muttering to him in my father’s tongue about the inconvenience the mishap was causing me. Late for my next appointment, missing breakfast, that sort of thing. We passed Miss Fairchild sitting on a bench, and she greeted me in that same language, though ‘good day, sir’ was apparently the extent of her Gaelic.”
Where would Melanie have learned even a Gaelic greeting? “You stopped to chat?” A gentleman might exchange a few pleasantries under such circumstances, but he would not presume upon the company of a lady to whom he hadn’t been introduced.
Though a gentleman-spy probably had the knack of striking up conversations with strangers.
Mr. MacKay indicated they were to take a left turn, and the neighborhood improved.
“I am, like all good Scottish lads abroad, chronically homesick. I occasionally hear the Lallans Scottish from a drover down from the north, but Gaelic in much of London is a rarity. I tarried for a few moments, and when I saw Melanie again on the same bench two days later, we picked up the conversation. It became obvious that she could use a friend.”
Obvious, because her own family had turned their backs on her. “Merely a friend?”
“First, what does it matter? She’s dead, Miss Delancey, and her private affairs deserve our discretion. Second, yes. I was merely a friend.”
