Page 12 of Never a Duchess
“Will ye play, or do ye have someone else—”
“No one else need be involved. You will help me to understand men, Your Grace. It will be our secret. Heaven forbid the gossips learn about my hobby.”
Such was the rush of euphoria, it took effort not to punch the air and cheer. “We must be discreet.”
“Yes, we wouldn’t want your clansmen to know you’re seducing an Englishwoman.” Mockery clung to her tone. “Even if it is for the purpose of education.”
Callan smiled to himself. He was the Duke of Dounreay. His friends and family would not challenge his decision. “Which is what makes this experiment so perfect. Neither of us will be forced to wed.”
“It’s the only reason I agreed to your proposal.”
“So, when do we meet again?”
Time was of the essence.
She thought for a moment. “Lord Templeton’s ball is on Friday. His extensive gardens provide many places to conduct a secret liaison.”
Her choice of words sent Callan’s pulse soaring. “Which role would ye like me to play? The lovesick Romeo or the lustful rake?”
“Both. You will ask me to walk in the garden while my friends play chaperone. Later, you will attempt to lure me to a private location.”
The plan seemed too straightforward.
“Verra well. But I won’t mention the roles beforehand. Ye must identify the characters based on my manner.” Perhaps he might play the lothario while in the presence of her chaperone.
“Excellent.” Miss Ware glanced back at the secret door. “You should leave now. Before we’re both missed and our friends send out a search party.”
“I’ll nae leave ye here alone.”
She must have detected the determination in his tone.
“Then wait in the shadows and follow me back to the ballroom.” The clang of the supper gong echoed in the distance, sending Miss Ware into a panic. “Good heavens! We’ve been here far too long. Someone is bound to see me creeping about.”
Callan silently cursed.
With the sudden flurry of activity, it would be almost impossible to return to the ballroom unnoticed. “I shall fetch yer friends, the Masters. They will escort ye to the supper room.”
The sensible idea had her scrunching her nose. “No. I’ll use the stairs and head through the servants’ quarters.”
“Servants are notorious gossips.”
“I’ll take the risk. I cannot disappoint my friends.” Miss Ware snatched her white gloves from the bed and tugged them on firmly. “I’ll not have them think we arranged an assignation. They’ll have us married before we’ve stopped to catch our breaths.”
Callan smiled to himself. “And ye refuse to marry anyone.”
“Yes, and you won’t marry an Englishwoman, so you see the dilemma.” She began pacing while lost in thought and happened to glance outside. “Typical!” Grabbing her telescope, she peered into the night. “While the guests take supper, a scoundrel has come out to play.”
The hairs on his nape prickled with unease. “Now that I’ve made a solemn promise, I expect ye to stop spying on other men until we conclude our studies.”
It was only a matter of time before she ruffled the wrong rake’s feathers.
“Yes. And I will. But this is a prime opportunity to watch a real devil at work.” She beckoned Callan to the window and offered him the scope. “We have a duty of care to the lady in question. Our rogue may become aggressive in his eagerness to get his own way.”
He suppressed his frustration and put the scope to his eye.
“Do you see the path to the right of the garden?” She moved closer, her arm brushing his, distracting him momentarily.
“The one leading to the wrought-iron tunnel?” he asked, scanning the area.
