contact her ladyship's late husband."
Catriona ground her teeth, tempted to inform him that
she
had never had dealings with the netherworld, and she wasn't a gypsy, either. But he didn't look as though he would listen; he was more concerned with protecting his sister, which only made Catriona think of her own miserable half-brother James, who did not give a fig anymore whether anyone lived or died, including himself, and how it was because of him that she was there, standing before a man who made her feel entirely unwelcome.
"Let's go, Thomas," she said, lifting her portmanteau with a weary sigh. "It was a bad idea to come without writing first."
The old man looked at her in bewilderment. "We canna go. We've nowhere to go." He glanced up into the viscount's forbidding face. "Ye canna turn her away."
"Of course I can," Knight said without emotion, and then he glanced at the three servants who were witnessing this unexpected drama. Or, rather, he glanced at two of them; Howard, the young footman, was halfway to the house, presumably to fetch reinforcements for this minor dilemma.
"In that case," Catriona said hesitantly, "you should give this to Lady Deering. It belonged to her husband. He said it would bring me luck. It hasn't."
Knight stood in silence as she removed a brown silk pouch from her cloak. Inside the bag was a heavy gold ring twisted into a knot.
"Take it, and tell her that I'm sorry he died. He was kind to me. I wish I'd known him better."
He raised his gaze to hers, unprepared for the impact of those intelligent eyes in a face that was more piquant than pretty. "Where did you get this?" he demanded, taking it from her hand.
"Lionel gave it to me as a keepsake. He was going off to war."
"Lionel?" He stepped toward her, forcing Thomas off to the side. "I was not aware that he had any truck with the gypsies."
She drew a breath. "And I wasn't aware he had such a difficult brother-in-law." She was painfully earnest as she stood there, setting him down in one breath, asking for hospitality in another. "If I had, I wouldn't have come."
"Tis her ladyship ye want," the older man reminded her.
Knight glanced down at the ring. He could not remember the exact conversation, but to his regret he
did
recall Lionel mentioning his Scottish blood, the "uncouth" side of the family, and how amusing and endearingly barbaric he'd found their behavior. But this puffball of a female and her shrunken husk of a protector in their fusty plaids, well, it was too much. What was he supposed to do with them? Send them on their way, of course. He was under no obligation to do otherwise.
Except that she had Lionel's eyes, those gentle, knowing, mischievous eyes that Knight could never forget and missed more than he could admit.
"How did you come by the ring?" he asked, his voice expressionless.
"He gave it to me for healing his knee. He said I could use the ring as part of my marriage portion."
"He was my closest friend," Knight said in a clipped voice. "I never heard him mention your name."
"I never heard him mention yours, either," she said indignantly. "And I was his cousin."
"A fact that remains to be proved," he said.
She frowned. "Excuse me?"
He frowned back at her. "The usual manner for a social introduction in these parts is to knock at the door."
She lifted her brow. "And how does one, in these parts, reach the door when one is beset by attack dogs?"
His eyes glittered. "One usually does not pay a social call this late at night."
"What has happened, Knight?" a woman inquired softly behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder in annoyance, slipping the ring into his pocket. Howard had brought reinforcements, all right, but not for Knight's side. Olivia and Wendell had arrived to investigate the disturbance; they had obviously been informed that their lives were not in any imminent danger.
"Go back into the house, Olivia," he said, returning his attention to the strange pair who had invaded his privacy. "I am
Catriona ground her teeth, tempted to inform him that
she
had never had dealings with the netherworld, and she wasn't a gypsy, either. But he didn't look as though he would listen; he was more concerned with protecting his sister, which only made Catriona think of her own miserable half-brother James, who did not give a fig anymore whether anyone lived or died, including himself, and how it was because of him that she was there, standing before a man who made her feel entirely unwelcome.
"Let's go, Thomas," she said, lifting her portmanteau with a weary sigh. "It was a bad idea to come without writing first."
The old man looked at her in bewilderment. "We canna go. We've nowhere to go." He glanced up into the viscount's forbidding face. "Ye canna turn her away."
"Of course I can," Knight said without emotion, and then he glanced at the three servants who were witnessing this unexpected drama. Or, rather, he glanced at two of them; Howard, the young footman, was halfway to the house, presumably to fetch reinforcements for this minor dilemma.
"In that case," Catriona said hesitantly, "you should give this to Lady Deering. It belonged to her husband. He said it would bring me luck. It hasn't."
Knight stood in silence as she removed a brown silk pouch from her cloak. Inside the bag was a heavy gold ring twisted into a knot.
"Take it, and tell her that I'm sorry he died. He was kind to me. I wish I'd known him better."
He raised his gaze to hers, unprepared for the impact of those intelligent eyes in a face that was more piquant than pretty. "Where did you get this?" he demanded, taking it from her hand.
"Lionel gave it to me as a keepsake. He was going off to war."
"Lionel?" He stepped toward her, forcing Thomas off to the side. "I was not aware that he had any truck with the gypsies."
She drew a breath. "And I wasn't aware he had such a difficult brother-in-law." She was painfully earnest as she stood there, setting him down in one breath, asking for hospitality in another. "If I had, I wouldn't have come."
"Tis her ladyship ye want," the older man reminded her.
Knight glanced down at the ring. He could not remember the exact conversation, but to his regret he
did
recall Lionel mentioning his Scottish blood, the "uncouth" side of the family, and how amusing and endearingly barbaric he'd found their behavior. But this puffball of a female and her shrunken husk of a protector in their fusty plaids, well, it was too much. What was he supposed to do with them? Send them on their way, of course. He was under no obligation to do otherwise.
Except that she had Lionel's eyes, those gentle, knowing, mischievous eyes that Knight could never forget and missed more than he could admit.
"How did you come by the ring?" he asked, his voice expressionless.
"He gave it to me for healing his knee. He said I could use the ring as part of my marriage portion."
"He was my closest friend," Knight said in a clipped voice. "I never heard him mention your name."
"I never heard him mention yours, either," she said indignantly. "And I was his cousin."
"A fact that remains to be proved," he said.
She frowned. "Excuse me?"
He frowned back at her. "The usual manner for a social introduction in these parts is to knock at the door."
She lifted her brow. "And how does one, in these parts, reach the door when one is beset by attack dogs?"
His eyes glittered. "One usually does not pay a social call this late at night."
"What has happened, Knight?" a woman inquired softly behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder in annoyance, slipping the ring into his pocket. Howard had brought reinforcements, all right, but not for Knight's side. Olivia and Wendell had arrived to investigate the disturbance; they had obviously been informed that their lives were not in any imminent danger.
"Go back into the house, Olivia," he said, returning his attention to the strange pair who had invaded his privacy. "I am
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