Page 43 of Entrancing the Earl
“Mortimer knowsI’m staying here, and that I brought the baron with me!” Lord Ives rested an elbow on the mantel in the front room after dinner. “How can he possibly have followed us?”
To their hosts, he probably appeared as a model of aristocratic irritation and no more. Iona, however, needed roses to mitigate the scent of his fury so she could pretend he didn’t affect her.
She tested the keys of an old pianoforte. “He pays street urchins, probably with the American’s money. At home, he’d simply tell everyone he’d not let them hunt on our land if they didn’t report our every move. Poor people are very cooperative if it means food in their stomachs.”
She regretted bringing this down on her nice hosts and the earl. “I’ll go to the flat I’ve rented in the morning. He’s less likely to find me on my own.”
“You will do no such thing,” Azmin, Lady Dare, protested. “It could be surrounded by thieves and infested with bedbugs. It’s not as if your stepfather can break into our house and abduct you.”
Iona held her tongue.
The all-too-perceptive Lord Ives noticed. He stopped his prowling to glare at her. With their hosts, he was the very model of decorum and bored aristocracy. She seemed to be the only recipient of his scowls. His attention warmed her all over, especially when he hovered by the piano to select music.
“Abduction is illegal,” he said in a practiced, offhand tone. “He wouldn’t do that, would he?”
Iona picked out a few notes of the song on the sheet music he opened. It had been a long time since she’d practiced—since school, at least. “When Mortimer emptied her savings, Isobel ran away to a friend’s house in hopes of having him reported to the sheriff. Mortimer sent one of our tenants to stop her and bring her home.”
The shock had rendered her twin insensible so she could not fight.Ionacould fight, but she wasn’t much good at it when Isobel was used as a shield.
The viscount whistled in surprise. Lord Ives crumpled the music sheet he held.
“We sent the messenger away with a flea in his ear,” Azmin said, with an implacable tone that said she’d use a knife on the next one. “This is not the rural Highlands. Our guests are private. But if the urchins recognize your baron’s disguise, it’s probably not wise to use it again.”
“I suppose not,” Iona said regretfully. “It was foolish of me to test it on Mortimer in the first place. I should have just taken Lowell’s pistol and shot the rat when we ran into him like that. I am not good at thinking on my feet.”
“Never give her a pistol,” the earl said without inflection to no one in particular.
“The two of you should visit my investment agents tomorrow in your baron guise.” Zane poured himself another whisky, then offered the decanter to the earl. “Hugh is on his honeymoon, but I’ll send a note to his partners about the baron. Once there, Lady Iona can change into different attire and the secretaries can take her elsewhere. That should discourage any urchins following.”
“I’ll take my plain gown, and look like one of the servants leaving the building. I really want to explore Edinburgh a bit. And then I should take the train to my flat. I hate that Mortimer forces me to spend my life hiding.” Iona crashed her fingers on the keys, creating a discordant clamor in the pleasant withdrawing room.
“Then quit hiding.” The earl rejected his host’s offer of whisky, sat down beside her, and began playing the song he’d chosen, usurping all the air and space around her with his masculine presence. “You are not even his daughter. You are of age. You are an independent woman. Kidnapping you in Edinburgh is not as easy as it is where he controls the countryside.”
Iona pondered the lovely dream of walking the streets as herself, stopping to visit shops and friends, without a care in the world. Someday...
“I don’t believe I could actually shed blood,” she said regretfully. “I’d love to carry a pistol and asgian dhu,but a hatpin is more my style. Or maybe a walking stick. I was brought up in an English boarding school. I never learned how to protect myself against kidnappers. But I don’t share your confidence that anyone would care a fig if they saw me being thrown into a carriage.”
“You are more comfortable hiding,” Lord Ives said in disgust. “I dare you to walk out with me tomorrow as a lady to attend my meeting with the solicitor. I can and will see that you are safe.”
She found where he was on the music sheet and attempted to catch up with him but failed. She was too out of practice—in many things, apparently. “I hate ruining my few good clothes. Let me dress in my servants’ garb. Then I can more comfortably accompany you to the demolition site. I’ll attract suspicion but maybe the urchins will hesitate to report me unless they hear me addressed.”
“Shall I call you Sally?” the earl asked, reeking of distaste.
For a gentleman who presented an indifferent attitude, he roiled with strong emotions. It was like smelling a spicy pudding cooking.
“I can provide the walking stick,” Zane suggested, grinning. “Do servants carry them?”
“I’ll provide ample hat pins,” Azmin offered. “I occasionally wear a stiletto in my hair, but yours is too short. Phoebe wears asgian dhuin her boot, but she’s skilled, and you’re not. We should have her teach you a few street tricks.”
Iona hated to disappoint the earl, but she knew her comfort level. Servant, it had to be. “Thank you. Someday, I would be delighted to take lessons from Lady Phoebe, should I survive this. I appreciate everything everyone has done for me. That includes you, Lord Ives,” she added demurely.
She rather enjoyed the complex scent of reactions he emitted. She thought they might just be similar to her own, which meant he was as confused as she was. It was comforting to know an experienced gentleman like the earl could have his moments of uncertainty.
Gerard toldhimself ten thousand pounds was worth losing a night’s sleep. Maybe the medallion was right and Lady Iona represented a treasure of wealth, if he could lay his hands on that reward. Even half the amount would work wonders on the castle roof.
He stayed up most of the night making lists of demands for her settlement and keeping an eye on the stairs so she didn’t sneak out.
He was probably better off returning to London, but he simply couldn’t let this go. The beekeeper deserved to return to her hives and the life she wished without an ogre breathing down her neck. He couldn’t live with himself if he did nothing.
