Page 33 of Never a Duchess
Callan studied her intently, anticipating bad news. “Aye, at ten, but I wanted to check on Angus and thought to offer Miss Ware the option of riding with me in my carriage.”
“The lass left ten minutes ago with her friend Mrs Masters.”
Disappointment stabbed at Callan’s chest.
He’d hoped to have a private word with the lady before they conducted the interviews under Devon Masters’ watchful gaze.
“Angus is sleeping, but didnae have a seizure during the night. Dr Mackenzie called with a tincture this morning. He said Angus will need time to fully recover. Whatever he inhaled was nae strong enough to kill him.”
Callan stroked Lorna’s upper arm, saying a silent prayer of thanks. “’Tis a relief. I’ll call tonight, if I may. Is there anything ye need in the meantime?”
“There is something I need,” Lorna said, patting his cheek as if he were a wee boy.
“Aye.” He would do anything.
“For ye to stop worrying.”
He managed a smile. “Ye know what Angus means to me, what ye all mean to me. On my honour, I shall find the person who did this and make the devil pay.”
Angus had picked up the perfume bottles at random.
Had he been in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Or was there something sinister afoot?
Lorna smiled despite tears welling. “Well, he’s nae leaving us today. That’s a blessing. Reassure poor Miss Ware. At breakfast, she spent more time nibbling her bottom lip than her toast.”
The comment sent his mind racing to their passionate clinch. Blood had pumped so fast through his veins he had never felt so alive. The promise of another encounter lingered in every muscle, every cell.
What if he had misread the signs?
What if the kiss left her so troubled she would end their research?
“What happened to Angus shocked us all,” he said.
“Aye, near tragedies have a way of raking up the past. She seemed lost in her memories this morning. Dinnae let the lass fool ye. There’s a deep sadness hiding beneath that bravado.”
Yet he sensed nothing but a burning passion he longed to explore. “Then I shall find a way to make her smile today.”
“Och, ye’re a good man, Callan Maclean.” She knew better than to remind him his mother would be proud.
He grabbed Lorna and kissed her cheek. “Because I keep the best company, even if yer forebears were savage heathens.” He was halfway out of the door when he glanced back. “I’ll sit with Angus tonight so ye can rest.”
“He’ll take comfort knowing yer close.”
Callan left Pall Mall and made his way to Lord Kinver’s abode in New Cavendish Street. The Kinvers were visiting the Cotswolds while on honeymoon. Being Lady Kinver’s brother, Devon Masters had taken charge and had arranged the servants’ interviews.
The ageing butler escorted Callan into the drawing room, where the Masters and Miss Ware sat drinking tea. “His Grace, The Duke of Dounreay.”
Miss Ware gasped upon hearing his name.
“Please, there’s nae need to stand.” Callan’s gaze settled on her, his heart rebounding in his chest. The lass had kissed him first last night. “Sorry I’m late. I went to Pall Mall to visit MacTavish.”
“We must have just missed you,” she said in the casual tone she might use with an acquaintance, not the man who had come close to slipping his tongue into her mouth.
“We were sorry to learn about the incident at Baudelaire’s,” Masters said, gesturing to his wife, “and wish MacTavish a speedy recovery.”
“The man has the constitution of an ox.”
