Scotsman of My Dreams Read Free Page A

wilder days. Not that he wouldn’t have been as wild now had circumstances been different.
    Interesting what a bullet could do.
    â€œWho was that at the door?”
    That he’d asked surprised him. Normally, he didn’t have any interest in the comings and goings of tradesmen and the like. Still, they shouldn’t come to the front entrance, but the back one instead.
    Howington didn’t say anything for a moment, but Dalton knew the secretary was studying him. He recognized the man’s considering silence, having encountered it often since returning home.
    Now, instead of answering his question, Howington said, “The doctor is coming today, Your Lordship. What with the weather, he’ll probably be late.”
    â€œIs that a gentle hint, Howington, not to get myself soused before he arrives?”
    â€œI wouldn’t say such a thing, Your Lordship.”
    No, but you’d be thinking it.
    â€œDid you report to my mother when she was alive?”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    He knew a stalling tactic when he heard one.
    â€œWas it your duty to write her once a week? Once a month? Did she want to know what I was doing?”
    â€œThe dowager countess expressed an interest in you, sir, but she did so for Arthur and Lewis as well.”
    â€œGood God, did you spy on all of us?”
    â€œWhen the countess asked, I responded.”
    Howington’s voice had taken on a decidedly frosty tone. Had he offended the man? It wouldn’t be the first time, and doubtless it wouldn’t be the last.
    He’d once been quite urbane, known for his charm. Had he left that behind in America?
    He waved his hand in Howington’s direction.
    â€œI will attempt to remain sober until I’m examined again. Not that it makes any damn difference. There, are you happy?”
    â€œHave you eaten, sir?” Howington asked, the words still coated with a chill.
    â€œGod, man, you’re not my nanny. Stop hovering.”
    â€œOf course, sir.” Howington didn’t leave, however, only continued that considering silence.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œThe woman at the door, sir, she wanted to know about America.”
    How many times had he told Howington that America wasn’t a topic of conversation he would allow? How many times had he cut off the man when he would have asked or commented about something striking his fancy? The fact that Howington mentioned it now was punishment, a little goad for his being an ass.
    Maybe he deserved it.
    He finished the whiskey, let the glass fall too heavily onto the surface of the desk. The sound was like a slap, one that made him aware the storm was finally passing.
    â€œI’ll let you know when the doctor arrives, Your Lordship.”
    â€œYou do that,” he said, straightening and walking to the sideboard again. What did it matter if he was drunk when the damn physician arrived?

 
    Chapter 3
    T he moment Minerva entered her kitchen, Mrs. Beauchamp advanced on her. The housekeeper, a tall woman with a slender build, possessed a long face that regretfully reminded Minerva of a horse. Her large mouth was often arranged in a smile, however, which gave one the feeling that you were in the presence of a genuinely caring soul.
    If Mrs. Beauchamp had any flaws at all, it was that she was too concerned about others.
    â€œOh, dear, Miss Minerva,” she said now, helping Minerva remove her sodden bonnet. “The poor thing’s ruined.”
    Since her hands had turned blue from the dye in the ribbon, she could only agree with the older woman.
    â€œIt was such a pretty shade,” Mrs. Beauchamp said. “But not if it bleeds so profusely.”
    Minerva glanced at herself in the mirror above the sideboard and bit back a yelp. Her cheeks were blue and there were two blue streaks running down her forehead. She wasn’t a vain woman, but she didn’t want to go through London looking like one of the early Picts,