Lavinia and the Laird (Bluestocking Brides Book 0) Page 5

  Even if she had told him more, his mission was likely to prove fruitless. What did he expect? To suddenly bump into Lavinia alone? To be able to sweep her away and...and...

  Well, he hardly knew. It was not that he was a stranger to women—in a fashion. He had flirted with a few and was quite capable in female company, but the farm and estate kept him too busy to think of women. Even so, he just had to find her again. Had to decide what this thing between them was. After a sleepless night thinking of her, his only conclusion had been that it was worth pursuing.

  A giggle made his heart jolt a little. He scowled to himself. Just because it was female did not mean it was her. He turned and listened for the sound again. No, it definitely was not her. However, it did sound like it could be the youngest sister Catherine. He eyed the woods for signs of red hair and had to mask a smile as Catherine and Julia emerged.

  “Oh, whatever are you doing here?” Catherine asked.

  Julia rolled her eyes. “You are so rude, Catherine. You do not own the woods.”

  “The way you talk about them, anyone would think you did.” Catherine huffed. “Julia is extremely fond of nature,” she explained. “She has even had some illustrations published.”

  Niall lifted his brows. “You are an accomplished set of young ladies, it seems.” He motioned to the river. “I was just...uh...” Lord, he had little idea how to explain his actions. Why was he loitering near where he thought their home could be? Anything he came up with sounded ludicrous.

  “You know, Lavinia is not home today.” Catherine’s expression remained innocent but he could not help wince inwardly. He was far too obvious.

  Julia nodded. “Oh yes, she is helping Mr. Bentley with his visits. He is calling on several people today apparently and Mama insisted that Lavinia help escort him with her.”

  “Your sister is altruistic indeed.”

  Catherine snorted. “Everyone is always asking for Lavinia’s help and the poor girl cannot seem to help herself. I do wish she would grow a backbone.”

  “She has a backbone,” muttered Julia. “She is just a much nicer person than you are.”

  Catherine ignored the slight. “Our dear Lavinia is the darling of the village in case you have not noticed. It’s been that way since she was little according to Amelia.”

  “Ah.” Niall dare not comment, but he had already noticed how everyone praised Lavinia, and she was too polite to say otherwise. He could not help feel there was more to her than that, however. During their few meetings, she had been warm, honest, and funny. Perhaps he was losing his mind, but he was convinced he was seeing the side of her that no one else, apart from perhaps her sisters, saw.

  “If you head into the village you’ll likely find her there.” Julia’s lips quirked. “I imagine they are at Mrs. Newport’s by now. Her house is the one with the blue door.”

  Niall grinned back. The sisters clearly had him figured out so there was no sense in disguising his eagerness. “Thank you, ladies. I should make haste.”

  “Oh yes, you really better. And do not eat anything. You need a strong stomach to handle our mother.” Catherine smirked and scowled when Julia tutted. “What? It’s true. She will not—”

  “We had better get along,” Julia trilled. “Good day to you, my laird.” She forcibly tugged Catherine away and he could hear the youngest sister complaining as they walked back the way they came.

  Twisting on his heel, he marched back toward the village. Quite what he would say once he met with Lavinia, he did not know, especially if her mother and Bentley were there.

  He came upon them having just stepped out of a small cottage with a blue door. Breathing out a sigh, he fixed a polite smile upon his face. At least he could feign a natural meeting.

  “Ah, good day, my laird,” Bentley greeted genially.

  “Good day.” Niall dipped his head to Lavinia, who avoided his gaze, and her mother.

  Mrs. Chadwick looked directly at him, running her gaze up and down his person with her lips pursed. “Good day, my laird.” The words were tight and hard.

  “Good day,” Lavinia practically whispered.

  Niall couldn’t help but let his grin widen. She was pleased to see him—he could tell by the way her gaze kept darting back to him and how her cheeks had grown slightly flushed.

  Now he just needed to ensure he remained in her company. But how?

  “I am glad to happen upon you, Mr. Bentley,” Niall rushed out quickly. “I was hoping to speak with you about a certain book of yours. Unfortunately I did not get to ask you about it at the talk.”

  “Well, I’d be happy to oblige. Alas I am promised to several more ‘at homes’ before I can speak with you.” Bentley swung a glance between Niall and Lavinia and Niall could have sworn he saw realization in the man’s eyes. “But here’s a thought. Why do you not visit with us? I am certain no one could object to hosting an additional person—particularly a Scottish lord.”

  “I am not certain—” Mrs. Chadwick began.

  “That sounds like a fine idea,” Lavinia piped up, meeting Niall’s gaze properly for the first time.

  Somehow Niall managed to suppress a totally triumphant grin. He nodded. “I agree. I have still not met everyone in the village. I can think of no better way to do it.”

  Mrs. Chadwick bristled. “I really do not think—”

  “Where are you promised to next?” Niall asked Bentley.

  Bentley looked to Lavinia. “Um...”

  “Mrs. Newport. She’s just up here.” Lavinia motioned ahead to another cottage, similar in size to the one they had just stepped out of.

  “Excellent.” As they strolled to the cottage, Niall could hear Mrs. Chadwick grumbling about barbaric Scotsmen. He held back a chuckle. She would take some convincing it seemed.

  Niall ducked into the cottage as Mrs. Newport ushered them in, the low wooden beams making him feel larger than ever. He smiled at Mrs. Newport, who avoided his gaze. The woman would be small next to anyone but he felt as though he towered over the petite older lady.

  “Will you not come through into the drawing room?” the woman offered, motioning to a door. “I-I am quite honored to have you here, Mr. Bentley. My husband introduced me to your work some time ago and I have read everything you have ever written.”

  She led them into the drawing room. Though relatively generous in size, it was filled with objects from lace tablecloths to stuffed animals to delicate ornaments and vases. Everywhere he looked, there was something.

  Furnished with two delicate sofas and matching armchairs, the room made Niall grimace. He was used to the rugged, hard-wearing furniture of the castle where ornaments were kept a minimum and there was certainly no sign of lace. He eased himself down gingerly next to Bentley and had to mask a wince as he felt the sofa creak under their combined weight.

  He stole a look at Lavinia who immediately glanced away then met his gaze once more. Niall smiled and her lips curved slightly in response. Did she understand why he’d thrust himself into this uncomfortable situation?

  The stilted conversation of Mrs. Newport did not make matters any better. Niall noticed that Lavinia attempted to drive most of the conversation whenever there was a silence, saving them all. It seemed Mrs. Newport really was quite the fan of Bentley and blushed almost every time the man spoke.

  “So...do you have any plans for your next book, Mr. Bentley?” Lavinia asked.

  The author paused in sipping a cup of tea and nodded. “Indeed. In fact, meeting the laird has provided me with quite a bit of inspiration.”

  Niall lifted his brows. “Me? What have I done?”

  Bentley chuckled. “Never fear, I shall not be turning you into a protagonist, but I have been meaning to set a book in your homeland for some time. However, my visits to Scotland have been limited to Edinburgh. I was hoping you might help me with my research. As you know I prefer my settings a little more rugged.”

  Mrs. Chadwick sniffed. “I would hardly call Hampshire rugged. Certai
nly not like Scotland.”

  Niall grinned, ignoring the slight from Lavinia’s mother. “It is indeed rugged and I’d always imagined one of your books would work perfectly there. I’d be happy to be of assistance.”

  Bentley nodded. “Excellent. You must tell me all about it before I leave.”

  “How long will you be staying with us, Mr. Bentley?” pressed Mrs. Newport.

  “Another four weeks, then I must meet my wife in London. She is already there and no doubt enjoying Society without me.” Bentley looked at Niall. “You are planning to travel down too are you not, my laird?”

  Niall nodded. “A little sooner than that, though. I had only planned to stay another two weeks.”

  ‘Had’ being the operative word. He stole a look at Lavinia. There was one reason and one reason only to extend his visit here.

  Lavinia stared into what he could see was an empty cup. Was it his imagination or did she seem upset by the idea of him leaving? A triumphant flourish burned inside him. He damned well hoped so.

  The afternoon passed more quickly now that Bentley had declared an interest in Scotland and seemed to have hundreds of questions for him. Niall had no regrets about the endless tea or cake or stilted, polite conversation elapsing swiftly, however, after they left the last house and Bentley announced his intentions to return to the viscount’s house, bitter disappointment itched his gut. He’d hardly spent any time with Lavinia and had not managed a single moment alone with her. There had to be some way to change that, however. He straightened his shoulders and turned to Lavinia and her mother.

  “Perhaps I might escort you ladies home?” he offered.

  Lavinia’s eyes widened and she peered warily at her mother.

  Mrs. Chadwick’s lips tightened, but she nodded slowly “That would be acceptable.”

  Niall managed not to chuckle at her reluctance. He could not decide if it was the woman’s history with his aunt or the fact he was a rough, boorish Scotsman that caused the disapproval. Likely, it was both, but he would not be easily dissuaded. After all, Scotsmen were well known for their obstinacy. He would not go down without a fight.

  He walked with the ladies, enduring more polite conversation until they reached the outskirts of their house. Woods gave way to a wildflower garden and a modest house that looked to be typically quaint and English revealed itself past a handful of fruit trees and a more organized garden. Several figures hastened out of the front door and dashed through the garden and the wild flowers as they approached.

  “Oh lord,” he heard Lavinia say under her breath as three of her sisters barreled toward them.

  “Mama,” called Catherine. “Oh, Mama, you must come quickly.” Catherine drew to a halt at their side and flashed a grin at Niall. “My laird, what a surprise to see you.”

  “What is it, Catherine?” snapped Mrs. Chadwick. “Why do you look so wild?”

  “It’s Emma. She has...” Catherine glanced at Julia.

  “She has taken a fall. Hurt her ankle,” Julia finished hastily.

  Amelia nodded when her mother looked at her but her expression remained guarded.

  “Whatever was she doing to hurt her ankle?” Mrs. Chadwick asked.

  Julia waved a hand. “I’m not certain. Moving the piano perhaps?”

  Mrs. Chadwick frowned. “But why would she—”

  “She needs you now, Mama.” Catherine gripped her mother’s arm and tugged her forcefully away. “She has been asking for you. Oh, it’s terrible. She’s in so much pain.”

  Julia took her mother’s other arm and they bodily dragged her toward the house. Lavinia let out an audible sigh and shook her head once they were a distance away.

  “I hope your sister is not too badly hurt,” said Niall.

  Lavinia chuckled. “I suspect Emma is perfectly well.”

  And that the sisters had engineered them some time alone. He would have to thank them all later. Several heartbeats passed and she gave him a shy smile, meeting his gaze then twining her hands together.

  “I will confess that I am glad to get you alone,” he murmured, taking a step closer to her.

  Her lips parted and she inhaled audibly. “You are?”

  He nodded. It was impossible for him not to skim his gaze over her face, taking in the curve of her cheeks that bloomed with color, and the subtle up tilt of her eyes, the long golden lashes, and the arch of an elegant neck. His fingers twitched with the need to touch her.

  “I enjoyed hearing about Scotland today. Though, I cannot fathom why you wished to join us for all those ‘at homes’.”

  “You do not like them?”

  She shook her head. “Goodness, no.”

  “Why did you offer to escort Mr. Bentley then?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Everyone expected me to.”

  “And you always do everything expected of you,” he finished for her with a smile.

  “I know it makes me sound terribly dull. If you had sisters like mine, you would understand, though.”

  “Someone needs to be the dutiful one.”

  She eyed him. “You do understand then.”

  “I have no sisters, though.” He glanced toward the house. “I cannot decide whether to be glad about that or not.”

  “They are a handful but I would not change them for anything.”

  “Nor would I.” Especially when they were responsible for this brief moment alone. “They are a charming handful really.”

  Her smile expanded. “A charming handful. That’s a clever way of describing them.” She shook her head. “I am not sure what they’re up to and I’m not sure I want to know.”

  He edged closer again, unable to resist any longer. “I think I know.”

  Her pupils expanded. Heat seemed to fill the gap between them. He forgot everything about him—where they were, the feel of the breeze on his skin, the hard ground beneath his feet. His world faded to one thing—Lavinia. Reaching out, he pressed a curl back behind her ear. She shivered and her lips parted.

  “You really are the most beautiful, lass,” he murmured.

  “I—” She sighed and glanced back at the house. “I should probably return home. Mama shall notice I am gone soon enough.”

  He nodded slowly, trying to ignore the fist of disappointment clamping around his heart.

  “I-I hope to see you again soon, Niall.”

  He allowed himself a lopsided smile. “That’s a guarantee, lass.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lavinia glanced up as Amelia entered the bedroom. Her sister perched on the edge of the bed where Lavinia had been lying. Lavinia returned her gaze to staring up at the ceiling.

  “It is not like you to be lying around,” Amelia said. “It’s a beautiful day.”

  “I know.”

  If Lavinia was not helping out their mother, she would usually be doing something else. Taking food to the church or helping Mrs. Pagnall dig her vegetables or aiding Mrs. Beech with her six children. Doing something really would have been better than lazing around but she could not bring herself to leave the house and deal with all the talk of her next season. It was well known Mother anticipated her making some great match and it was all anyone would talk about.

  What if she did not want to meet a duke or an earl or a marquis? What if she wanted to be with someone else? She laced her hands together over her stomach and sighed.

  Amelia patted Lavinia’s legs. “Mama wanted me to remind you that the seamstress will be here in a few days and you need to watch what you eat before then.”

  Lavinia rolled her eyes. Mama was proud of Lavinia’s figure—not that it could be put down to anything but luck—but with new dresses due, if she put on any weight, there would be no time to adjust them. “I hardly think I’m going to change in size in a few days.”

  “I know that, but you know what Mama is like. Your season is all she’s talked about recently.”

  Grimacing, Lavinia pushed herself up from the bed. “I am all too aware of that.” Lavinia bit dow
n on her bottom lip. “What happens if I do not find someone? Or if...”

  “If you do not want to find someone,” Amelia finished for her.

  Catherine popped her head around the door, her hair a wild mess, and still dressed in her nightclothes. “Because you have already found someone,” she declared gleefully before dashing into the room and jumping onto the bed.

  Lavinia steadied herself against the wall as the mattress bounced under Catherine’s slight weight.

  “I did not say that,” Lavinia said stiffly.

  “You have not told us what happened yesterday.” Catherine squeezed herself between Amelia and Lavinia and looped her arm around Lavinia’s waist. “Did he kiss you?”

  “Certainly not,” Lavinia hissed.

  Catherine made a face. “Oh, he’s a gentleman, how dull.”

  “Who’s a gentleman?” asked Emma who paused in the doorway.

  “The Scot,” replied Catherine.

  “Mama does not think so.” Emma waved a sheet of music at Catherine. “She was complaining about how he had dominated Mr. Bentley’s time yesterday, and how poorly mannered he was.”

  Lavinia straightened. “He was certainly not poorly mannered, and Mr. Bentley enjoyed his company very much. He even mentioned going to stay with the laird.”

  “You do not need to defend him to us,” Amelia said softly.

  Catherine lifted her chin. “He is poorly mannered if he did not kiss you.”

  “Since when do you care about kissing?” Emma entered the room fully and placed herself crossed-legged on the floor.

  “I cannot stand kissing and I shall be quite happy never to kiss a man. But Lavinia is made to be kissed.” Catherine gave Lavinia a squeeze. “Especially by a braw Scot.”