Iona pondered that ultimatum until they’d reached the village and disembarked where the driver couldn’t hear them. “I think you may have turned that around a little. If you wish to claim your reward, you must work for me.”
As his valet arranged their tickets and baggage, the earl lifted a rather pointed eyebrow with incredulity. “And precisely how were you planning on arranging negotiations without me?”
She shrugged. “Apply to the School of Malcolm ladies and ask for a solicitor who might be trusted. And I can tell if he’s trustworthy, you realize.”
She could tell he wasn’t pleased, but he couldn’t argue with her ability. That was a new experience—a man who didn’t think she was helpless or crazy. And he was a good kisser. A pity he would run away as soon as he had the money to repair Wystan.
He assisted her into the first-class train car. “Fine,” he grumbled once they were settled in a private compartment. “Let us compare plans. Yours seems to still involve marrying the purple-vested mushroom, correct?”
“Purple-vested mushroom?” she asked in amusement, basking in this private, luxurious environment, bouncing a little on the cushioned seat. “I see you have met Arthur.”
“I have avoided meeting him. I had to be assured I could find you before proceeding. You are avoiding my question.” He sat across from her and set his tall hat on the seat.
“I told you, I am an honest person. If I negotiate a marriage settlement, of course I will marry him,” she said primly, although everything in her soul rebelled at the notion. “What did you have in mind?”
“Verifying he actually has the funds. Testing his integrity in carrying out any settlement. Writing a contract that includes a forfeiture leaving you a generous sum if he defaults on any morals clause I include. Then seeing that he defaults.”
Seeing that Winter defaulted on a morals clause? She’d never heard of such a thing. “I’m impressed,” she admitted. “You think Mr. Winter is that desperate for a title?”
“I have no idea if he beats women or drinks like a fish. I’ve not had time to learn, have I? My first duty, of course, will be to impress on him that Mortimer has utterly no power over you, that you are entirely independent, and the choice is all yours.”
“Good luck with that,” she said scornfully. “In what world do men accept that women are not chattel?”
“Scotland is a little more forward-thinking than most places. Mortimer is simply a feudal throwback. I’ve arranged for you to stay with some of my family, Viscount Dare and his wife. They’re both Malcolms, so you’ll like them.” He slumped in the seat, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes as if to sleep.
“Mortimer is slime with spies over half the country. They will report my presence the instant I move in. So quit looking smug. You don’t know my stepfather the way I do. You’ll need my help.”
He scowled but didn’t open his eyes. “I’ll shove you in a trunk and ship you.”
She grinned. “You want to kiss me again and don’t dare.”
“Perfectly correct. Now shut up and let me plot.”
That thrilled her more than she’d admit. She settled back and continued building the barrier she needed to continue dealing with this man. “You can’t plot without me. I shall get off the train where I got on. I will check for mail at my rooming house, although I don’t expect any yet. I will pack a valise. If your servant stops off with me, he may carry the valise to whatever destination pleases you. I will then make my way there on my own, when I am ready.”
“This is not the north country,” he protested, sitting up and glaring. “A young lady does not traipse about the city alone.”
“Then I shall arrange to be a man.”
Gritting his teeth, Gerard watched as Lowell and the countess climbed off the train in a particularly non-descript area outside Edinburgh. He didn’t know the city well enough to hope she’d found a decent residence in these dismal environs.
Arrange to be a man, indeed! Remembering last night’s kisses, the way she’d felt like heaven in his arms, and her wayward response when he’d pressed his attentions—
Made him hard all over again. Dammit it all to hell and back—she was a virgin. He didn’t touch virgins, though he might risk it for one who was wealthy. He should find a wealthy, non-Malcolm virgin and see if she kissed like the countess.
She wouldn’t, of course. He’d had far more experienced women at his beck and call and none had tasted like Iona. He could almost understand why animals would risk the wrath of a thousand bees to sip honey like that.
He wasn’t in any humor for pacifying his cousins when he arrived at the station without their guest.
“Did you lose her, Ives?” Lady Phoebe demanded. Tall, with masses of unruly chestnut hair, she’d actually dressed like a lady instead of a hooligan for the occasion.
“I’m sure there’s a good explanation.” Azmin, Lady Dare, reassuringly patted Phoebe’s arm. Half Hindu, she preferred the loose, colorful silks of her home, but today, she too had dressed as an English lady to meet their unknown cousin.
“The explanation is that the lady trusts no one and has chosen to arrive on her own.” Gerard picked up his own bags since Lowell wasn’t there. “I have left my valet to guide her but cannot tell you more.”
He stomped down the platform with the women trailing after him.
“Zane says you are welcome to stay with us as well as the countess,” Azmin said cheerfully. “Phoebe’s house is smaller and filled with animals and guests. Our enormous house is positively empty with everyone scattered. It should be more private than a hotel.”
His prey could be found
