Page 29 of Return of the Scot
“Can we speak in private?” he asked.
Jaime glanced at her clerk, who tried to make herself seem busy. “Anything ye have to say to me can be said before my witness.”
“Your witness?” Lorne raised a brow at her choice of words as if he were about to do her harm.
“Aye. We are at legal odds, are we no’?”
“Ah, well, that is true. But what I have to say has nothing to do with that. I’ve no intention to cause ye harm. I assure ye, this is a quite personal matter.”
Jaime’s mouth formed a little O before she clamped it shut. “In that case, I must insist that whatever it is ye want to say to me, ye say in front of my clerk. I do have a reputation to keep.”
Lorne tensed. Had she already heard the rumors of the gentlemen’s bet? “As ye wish. I came to tell ye that there is a wager going around town of a rather delicate nature, involving both of us. And I did no’ want ye to find out about it before I had a chance to tell ye that I have no intention of doing what they say and that I have put an end to the bookmaking.”
“What is it they are wagering?” She narrowed her brows at him, and once more, that ledger book came up like a shield.
“That I will…” How exactly could he put this in a delicate way? Och, the hell with it. Jaime Andrewson was no gentle miss, and she wouldn’t appreciate his gentler insinuations. “Seduce ye.”
Jaime laughed, the ledger falling as her head tilted back, and she seemed to roar with every part of her. She tossed the book onto her desk so she could wipe the tears from her eyes. Lorne wasn’t certain if he should be offended or not. He thought it was likely he should be.
“It takes two in a seduction, Your Grace.” All the laughter left her, that serious, no-nonsense expression back. Lord, but she would make a great governess, keeping all the little hellions in line. “The seducer and the seduced. And ye can trust that I have no intention of being seduced by ye. I plan to stay as far away from ye as I can. Ye’ve said what ye came to say, now leave.”
But Lorne wasn’t going to be deterred, as much as she had insulted him just now. He rather found it charming. “In that case, I suppose ye do no’ want this invitation.” He pulled the envelope from his coat pocket that he’d decided to deliver this morning personally.
“What is it for?” She put her hands behind her back as if that would somehow force herself not to reach for it.
“I’m hosting a ball.” Of all the godawful things he could have surmised in his scheme to gain her favor.
Jaime screwed up her face, peering up at him, as shocked as he felt when he’d agreed to host one—though it had been a wager gone wrong in the ring with Alec Hay. More wagers… However, the more Lorne thought about it, the more the idea had grown on him. A ball to show everyone he was well and hearty; a ball to show he was still wealthy despite his missing brother and the woman before him stealing his birthright. A ball to stop all the gossips from guessing about him and to truly see what he was about. And now, of course, a place for the two of them to be seen together and show that he was not seducing her.
“Why are ye inviting me?” She refused to take the offered envelope, folding her hands in front of her hips to keep them still.
Her question was valid, and the answers he’d run through his mind this morning while Mungo gave him a shave mostly made sense to him. Mostly.
“I thought perhaps if people were to see us avoiding each other at the ball, the rumors of my supposed seduction would temper down.” This, of course, was not the original idea, as he’d not even known about the wager until after the invitations had been written. But what she didn’t know couldn’t sway her.
“So this is for your reputation, then, Your Grace. Clever of ye to disguise it as protecting mine.”
Lorne was taken aback. “This is no disguise. I care no’ so much for mine, but for yours.”
“So because ye’ve already ruined one Andrewson lass, ye hope to save the next one?” She let out a snort that would make a lesser man’s ballocks fall to the floor.
Lorne, however, only grew irritated. He’d reached out to her repeatedly, yet she continued to jab him with a metaphorical stick. “The only one who ruined your sister was herself.” He thrust the envelope toward Jaime. “Come or do no’, I couldn’t care less.”
Jaime reached for the envelope, taking it with a crisp snatch, more out of instinct than wanting what he offered, he suspected. “I will no’ attend. Consider that my response, Your Grace.”
Lorne let out a short, bitter laugh. “One day, Jaime, perhaps no’ until ye’re old and gray, ye’ll realize the mistake ye made when ye considered me your enemy.”
Lorne nodded to Emilia. “Good day, Miss Butler.” Then he turned for the door, but Jaime halted his steps with her words.
“Ye’ve got to stop leaving me with cryptic messages. I rather tire of our verbal sparring, and I suspect ye must as well. Out with it, Lorne.”
But he wasn’t ready to do her any favors. Without even turning around to address her, he said, “If we are no’ to be friends, then ye may address me as ‘Your Grace.’”
Jaime, ignoring his snobbish retort, said, “How can we be friends with all that’s passed between us?”
Lorne did look at her over his shoulder then, raising a single brow. “There has been no exchange between us, Miss Andrewson. My past dealings with your family did no’ concern ye. And the shady dealings ye had with my brother did no’ concern me as both of ye assumed, or rather greedily hoped, that I remained dead. I have come to make amends for whatever transgressions ye took so personally, and yet ye persist in forcing the issue of animosity between us. I see no further need to continue. From now on, ye will address my solicitor with any of your concerns.”
Jaime looked stricken, and the guilt he felt at hurting her feelings stung inside his chest. But why should he care? She’d been nothing but rude, wishing him dead every time he’d seen her. Snatching his apology and stomping on it with the heel of her boot until his words held no meaning.
