Page 17 of A Bonny Pretender
“A wonderful, insightful man. He loved to debate and would often make me take the unpopular viewpoint just to test my skill.” Brigid heard the affection in his voice. “I’m told I can be quite persuasive when I’m prepared.”
“Ye need to prepare to prove a point? My family just commences, then yells over one another to be heard.” She thought of her grandda and Brodie when they had adifference of opinionas they called it. Nothing planned or polite intheirconversation.
“Ah, you confuse debate with argument. In a debate, each side presents his case with logic and precedents. The side with the most proof is the victor.” He crossed his arms. “Emotion doesn’t enter into it.”
“A debate would never work in my family, then. Passion is the foundation of every disagreement, large or small.” She gave him a side glance. He was smiling at her, a glint in his eyes that reminded her of Brodie when he looked at Kirsty. Her heart hammered in her ear, and she snapped open her fan to cool her skin. “Did yer father appreciate yer skill?’
His face darkened at the question, and she regretted asking.
“No.”
He offered no other explanation, so Brigid changed the subject. She had the impression he hadn’t gotten along with his father. Typical parent-son conflict or something deeper? “Do ye plan to stay in London long? I’ve learned many noblemen keep a home here.” That seemed safe enough.
“I’m renting for now. After the Season, I’ll return to Castle Raygin and anticipate only brief visits after that.” He tilted his head and studied her. “If I’m successful.”
“At?” His gaze was so intense, she squirmed a bit in her chair and fluttered the fan again.
“I’ve decided it’s time to marry.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “Is that too honest?”
Brigid shook her head, unable to drag her eyes from his. “I appreciate honesty. But why come all the way to London? Is there no one near yer home?” Or did he have some unknown trait that scared away his prospects like she had? Perhaps they were two peas in a pod, but she couldn’t imagine women runningawayfrom him.
“No one with the proper upbringing.”
“I thought ye dinna care about titles?” Ah, perhaps he’d only said that for her sake.
“I don’t, but I have a responsibility to my tenants and those who work under me. My wife will need to understand my duties and know how to run the household.” He smiled. “A girl from the village would be overwhelmed.”
“A rich merchant’s daughter with an education wouldna be sufficient?” An image of holding a baby with pale red-blonde hair flashed before her once again.Saints and sinners. Is he my destiny?she wondered. “Or is there a list of qualifications?”
Lord Raines chuckled, and it washed over her like a soft summer breeze. “I need a wife who can oversee the servants with kindness, who will be gracious and generous, and whowantsa family rather than seeing children as a duty.”
“That doesna seem so out of the ordinary.”
The viscount let out a hearty laugh. Heads turned and a round ofshhh’sreprimanded him for his outburst. “You really haven’t been here long, have you?”
She pressed her lips together to hold back her own laugh.
“Do you have those qualities, Miss MacNaughton?”
*
Frank was mesmerizedby her eyes. It reminded him of the blue roofs and sparkling waters of the Greek Isles. Or was it her hair? A light brown coated with a rich red, and it smelled of heather. He watched as she moved her head, the colors changing from honey to chestnut to flame. And back to honey. Or that mouth. Full pink lips, the plump bottom lip wet now from her tongue sliding across it. Heat pooled low in his belly.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so comfortable with a woman. The words just seemed to flow out of his mouth. She spoke more tonight, so perhaps she felt at ease with him too. Frank grinned while she considered his question. And it hit him. The constant heaviness, the weight that had pressed on his shoulders since he’d learned his mother’s secret, had eased. He wanted to reach out, stroke her face with his thumb, and thank her. For there was no doubt that she was the reason. He knew it with a certainty that almost frightened him.
“I can give orders well enough,” Miss MacNaughton began, “and I grew up surrounded by an enormous family. A clan, ye ken.” She grimaced and shrugged her shoulders. “But gracious is what I consider my mother, and generous—”
“Do you have many siblings? I was the only surviving childandthe only boy.” He remembered the chaos and laughter whenever he visited Wilkens’ house. Frank wanted a house like that, a family waiting for him, eager to see him and share their latest adventure. He would ask his wife how her day went, and she would regale him with her woes from the staff and the hectic day the nanny and tutor had endured.
When he looked up, Miss MacNaughton was staring at him, a shine in her eye that hinted she’d heard the sadness in the question. She reached out and gripped his forearm, her warmth seeping through his sleeve, up his arm, and into his heart.
“Ye must have been lonely, especially when yer father didna want ye playing with the village children.” She squeezed him and gave him a brilliant smile. “There’s nothing better than being surrounded by people who love ye. Dinna settle for less than that, Lord Raines. Ye’ll regret it.”
Applause drowned out the last of her words, but he knew what she was telling him. They stood and clapped with the rest of the audience. He realized he hadn’t heard a word of the performance. He’d only had ears for Miss MacNaughton.
