Page 13 of Never Kiss a Scot
They climbed into the coach after giving the driver instructions to Lennox’s townhouse. When they arrived, Brock was surprised to see dozens of other coaches lined up along the street and at least a dozen people walking toward Lennox’s front door.
“Is the man having tea or holding court?” Brodie joked as he met them at the door, but no one laughed.
Aiden shrank back, and Brock gently nudged him in the back.
“It will be fine. You can go inside, greet Rosalind, and then go into the gardens. Fewer people are likely to be there.”
Aiden squared his shoulders and nodded. They followed the crowd to the door and filed in behind several ladies in fine colorful tea gowns. Aiden blushed as one of the young ladies glanced back at him and smiled, then whispered something to her friends, and they broke out in barely hushed giggles.
“Come on.” Brock ushered Aiden past the ladies who lingered in the entryway, still smiling at his little brother.
“There are so many,” Aiden muttered. “Just like last night. They make me nervous.”
“Women have a way of doing that, no matter where you are,” Brock said with a chuckle. He and Brodie were more used to women’s ways as they both spent much time in Edinburgh, but Aiden avoided society, preferring the rocks, hills, trees, and animals as his way to commune with nature.
“Brock!” Rosalind came sweeping down the stairs, looking radiant in a bright-orange gown with a teal-blue sash that made her appear like a colorful songbird. He caught her up, swinging her around in his arms before he set her down so she could embrace Aiden. Her wide smile was full of joy, and Brock’s own heart was bursting at the sight of his little sister’s happiness. If Lennox made her feel this way, he couldn’t be that bad of a fellow. But that didn’t mean he completely trusted the man.
“Aiden, the Duchess of Essex is in the garden with her foxhound, Penelope. Would you mind offering her some advice on training her dog?”
“I’d be happy to.” Aiden’s open relief was obvious as he rushed off toward the back gardens. Rosalind watched him go and then turned back to Brock.
“How is he?” she asked, her tone softening so as not to be overheard by any of the guests nearby.
“No worse. No better,” Brock admitted. “Father left wounds on all of us—his are deeper than ours.”
Rosalind bit her lip. The joy he had seen moments earlier began to wane.
Brock scanned the crowd. “So, where’s Lennox?”
“The dining room. We had so many guests we had to have the tea service set up there. His friends are already here.”
Lennox’s friends? Brock wanted to groan. The papers called them the League of Rogues, and that they were. Bloody meddlingSassenachs. He’d met a few of them a few years back in a pub outside of Edinburgh. That encounter had cost both sides some coin to repair the broken furniture from the brawl. The memory brought a sudden, unexpected smile to his face. It had been a good fight.
“If you break evenonechair…” his sister warned.
Brock raised his hands in mock surrender. “I swear to be on my best behavior.”
“Speaking of behavior.” Rosalind’s gray-blue eyes sparked a fire. “What were you thinking last night? Joanna has been desperately trying to find a husband. After what you did, I worry that she has no hope.”
“Good,” Brock said, and almost laughed at the look of incredulity on Rosalind’s face.
“Good? Why pray tell is thatgood?” she hissed. “Joanna is a sweet woman and one of my dear friends. I don’t want you hurting her.”
“’Tis good because I intend to marry the lass.” He grinned when his sister’s mouth opened but no words came out. She blinked several times, and then without warning, she punched him hard in the shoulder.
“Ow!” he snapped, surprised that the blow actually stung.
“Brock Angus Kincade, you had best be teasing me.”
“I am not.” He sobered. “She’s everything I want in a wife, and ’tis time I married. What’s wrong with that?”
“But…” Rosalind continued to stare at him. “Do you even know her? I mean, truly? Her favorite color, her favorite flower, what she likes to do for enjoyment?”
He didn’t, and as he realized this, he frowned. Hewantedto know all of those things.
“I will find out,” he promised Rosalind.
“You cannot go up to her and simplyask. You must let it flow naturally.”
