Once Upon a Midnight Masquerade: Scot to the Heart #3 Page 4

  “May I be of service?” the clerk asked.

  “Thank ye. I’d like to purchase a bottle of perfume, but I dinna recall the name. It would have been purchased by the Dowager Countess of Bentley previously.”

  The Dowager Countess? Not a wife.

  Relief swept through her being, as the woman in question was quite married to Mr. MacGregor’s uncle.

  The clerk smiled and gave a slight nod. “Lady Bentley does have exquisite taste. I shall wrap it up for you.”

  “It is kind of you to purchase your aunt a gift,” Claresta said as they waited.

  “Rose is a kind lady and my uncle is lucky she chose to remain with him instead of returnin’ to England.”

  Chose to stay with him? What an odd turn of words, but Claresta gave them no further thought. “Do you plan to purchase gifts for the rest of your family?” As she knew nothing of him, other than who his aunt and uncle were, perhaps she’d better learn more before she continued her friendship. “Or anyone else in Scotland?” she added.

  “Nay. I doona need to send anythin’ to anyone. Only Rose, as I know she loves the perfume and canna get the same in Edinburgh.”

  If he had a betrothed or wife back in Bonnybridge, certainly Mr. MacGregor would have wished to purchase her a gift. Then again, if he did have someone at home, he wouldn’t have allowed Claresta to take him about town, and even if Mr. MacGregor had the inclination to do so, he would not have made the offer in front of the Bridges who would have known that he was unavailable. With those thoughts, Claresta put all concern that he might have already formed an attachment to a woman from her mind.

  Claresta glanced around. The shop was quite busy at the moment and she’d already been in here too long. It was the overpowering of scents that didn’t seem to bother anyone but her. As her nose began to burn, she excused herself. “If you don’t mind, I’ll wait outside with Esther.”

  MacGregor frowned. “Is all well with ye?”

  At that she sniffed. “I simply need air,” she assured him and left only a moment before a fit of sneezing struck. Esther was already holding a handkerchief as she knew what to expect.

  “Lady Claresta, might I be of service?”

  She wiped her nose and glanced up and nearly groaned. “I have no need, Lord Millard, but thank you for asking.”

  “You certainly don’t appear well, let me see you home.”

  Claresta pulled back before he could grasp her elbow. “I shall recover momentarily. This is simply a reaction to the perfumes.”

  He glanced at the store and frowned. “Then why did you go in?”

  “A simple purchase, that is all.”

  He tsked and shook his head as if Claresta needed someone to watch over her.

  “Has His Grace returned from the country?”

  “No.”

  * * *

  Donovan grasped the package and stepped out onto the walk and stopped beside the maid when he noted a gentleman speaking with Lady Claresta not far away.

  “When might you expect him?” the gentleman demanded.

  “I am not certain. Father hasn’t informed me of his plans.”

  The gentleman caressed his chin. “Of course, he wouldn’t, would he?” It was almost said absently, as if Lady Claresta were dismissed. Donovan nearly snorted as he knew what kind of reaction his sister or cousins would have to such behavior.

  “He’s not informed me, Lord Millard, because he isn’t certain when he’ll be able to return.” She sniffed and wiped her nose.

  “Well, as you know, I’m quite anxious for his return.”

  Donovan glanced to Esther when the maid rolled her eyes so the gentleman could not see her reaction.

  “There is no need for you to speak with my father.”

  Donovan wished he could see the man’s face as the gentleman shook his head.

  “Leave the matter to us, Lady Claresta. He’ll know what is best, as do I. It is a matter of family.”

  “Our family is already quite close, cousin,” Lady Claresta bit out.

  Cousin?

  “Distant enough as your grandmother was my aunt.”

  “I’m well aware of the connection.” Her response was answered in a clipped, cold manner.

  “Your father will see the wisdom of the continued connection, a strengthening of both of our families, even if you cannot understand the benefit of such a union.”

  “Yes, of course.” Lady Claresta brought a flat hand to her breast and sighed. “How could I possibly know what is best for I’m simply a lady. Why, what would I do without a gentleman making decisions on my behalf?”

  “Sarcasm does not suit you.”

  “Nor do we suit,” she retorted with a smile. “Now, if you will excuse me, my companion awaits.” With that, she swept past him and straight to Donovan and took his arm.

  After they’d turned the corner, Donovan leaned in. “Did something happen while I was inside the shop?”

  Lady Claresta merely shook her head. “Lord Millard is a bore who insists we should marry.”

  “Oh, is that all?”

  She cast a questioning glance at him.

  “I feared you’d turned into a helpless London Lady the moment my back was turned.”

  At that, she snorted. A very unladylike snort that Donovan found quite adorable.

  “I can assure you, Mr. MacGregor, I am far from helpless.”

  Chambers’ words came back to him. She is an intelligent lady who knows her worth and will not sit around and wait for something to come to her but will go after it. He should have included that she didn’t suffer fools, which was exactly what Lord Millard was, as he failed to understand her.

  And, though Lady Claresta might not wish Lord Millard for a husband, what if her father approved the match?

  For a moment, Donovan’s chest tightened. He’d just found his Juliet and wasn’t quite ready to let her go.

  “What of yer father? I doona believe yer suitor is goin’ to give up so easily.”

  “My father will talk to me before he grants any gentleman an audience. If I don’t wish to marry the gentleman, I won’t be made to do so.”

  “I thought most English marriages were arranged.”

  “Many are, but as my father’s only child, he and I are close and he’d rather I was happy.”

  She said it with such confidence that Donovan almost believed her. But, he also knew the way of fathers, and uncles, and sometimes a lass was made to do what the guardian believed was best regardless of her wishes.

  “Tell me, Mr. MacGregor, will you be attending any functions this evening?”

  “I have no plans.” Then he leaned in. “However, if ye ken of a masquerade, I’d be willin’ to sneak in with ye.”

  Her face suddenly flushed as she sniffed almost in indignation. “I’m already otherwise engaged.”

  “Are ye so proper now, Juliet?” he whispered.

  At her gasp, all Donovan could do was chuckle. Oh, his Juliet was a delight. “As I willna see ye tonight, shall we meet again on the morrow, or is your schedule already full?”

  “I do believe I can make time for you, but I’ve already planned on visiting the British Museum.”

  He gave a nod. “The British Museum, it is.”

  To think, nearly a year ago when he’d spotted Juliet at Madame Marseille’s ball, he’d assumed their time would be spent in a more intimate setting. Instead, Donovan found himself strolling about London with Lady Claresta on his arm and finding that he quite enjoyed it very much.

  Chapter 5

  Claresta could barely contain her excitement. Mr. MacGregor was to call on her again today and they were to visit the British Museum. Now that the time was upon them, she waited not so patiently for his arrival.

  They say patience is a high virtue. His words rang in her ears, but Claresta had always struggled with that particular attribute.

  “Do you think he’s forgotten?” Esther asked.

  Claresta frowned and looked out the front windo
w. There was no sign of Mr. MacGregor, though it was difficult to determine who anyone was beneath the large umbrellas that shielded those unfortunate enough to be outside in the pouring rain. Further, there were at least twice as many carriages out today and the unusual traffic moved slowly along the street.

  What if he’d changed his mind? What if he didn’t wish to spend any further time with her?

  What if he told Mr. and Mrs. Bridges how they’d met?

  Worse, what if they told Dillon and Emily?

  She’d not gained Mr. MacGregor’s promise to keep her secret and he had never told her what he meant by it depends.

  Had she foolishly assumed that since they’d spent a lovely afternoon together that she could trust Mr. MacGregor? What if he decided her guardian should know what she had done?

  Her pacing increased and Claresta wrung her hands together.

  Had he not enjoyed their afternoon as much as she had?

  She’d so wanted to meet a gentleman who wished to know her, and she’d finally been given that opportunity. But, what if she, just herself, wasn’t enough? What if the only way she’d ever hold the interest of a gentleman more than a day was because she was the Duke of Ellings’ daughter? Mr. MacGregor wasn’t aware of that connection, or at least she didn’t believe so, and what if after he’d returned to the Bridges’ townhouse, he’d changed his mind?

  Claresta pushed the thought from her mind. If Mr. MacGregor did not wish to call on her, he would have sent an excuse for his absence and as she’d received no missive, then he’d either forgotten or…

  Oh, blast, where was he?

  If Mr. MacGregor didn’t arrive within the next few moments, they’d need to leave without him. She’d not spend her afternoon waiting for him. She’d not alter her schedule to accommodate someone who had no intention of showing up. Today she was to visit the British Museum and would do so despite the inclement weather. With those thoughts, Claresta marched to the bell pull and yanked, then summoned a footman to have the carriage brought around. If Mr. MacGregor could not be punctual, then they’d go on without him. However, she did leave specific instructions on where they might be found, if Mr. MacGregor wished to join them.

  As the moments passed, Claresta paced and when the ducal carriage stopped before the townhouse, she donned her pelisse and bonnet before she and Esther hurried to the shelter of the carriage beneath the umbrellas held by the footmen.

  “I’m sorry that Mr. MacGregor did not call on you today,” Esther said from her side of the carriage.

  “I as well,” Claresta admitted and glanced out the window. What had she done wrong?

  It wasn’t like her to become angry. In fact, the emotion was rather foreign but irritation certainly brewed within her. And perhaps disappointment. She was hurt. It was another emotion that she was unfamiliar with, at least as far as it related to a gentleman. In the past, she’d always guarded her emotions and kept them in check, as she’d not trusted any suitor; therefore, she’d never been disappointed. This was the first time she’d let her shield slip, and she didn’t like this feeling of rejection.

  By the time she and Esther had made their way into the museum and to the section that housed ancient manuscripts, Claresta had lost all enthusiasm for the day and the outing. All she wished to do was return home and curl up in her room, try to forget she had ever met Mr. MacGregor and pray that he kept her secret.

  As Esther wandered to the very same manuscripts that she’d viewed dozens of times before, Claresta leaned against a wall and stared into the display case beside it, not seeing anything. What if she was never enough for anyone? What if her only attraction was the fact that her father was a duke and that she brought twenty thousand pounds and property to any union? Were gentlemen simply willing to suffer through a relationship with her to gain the other?

  Was she so unworthy of affection, and only a means to an end?

  If Emily were here, she’d accuse Claresta of being melodramatic again but Claresta didn’t care. Her emotions were real and she’d not deny them. Besides, it wasn’t as if anyone was paying attention to her. Esther barely watched her, as she was engaged in a lively conversation with Mr. Hildegard. At least her maid could be assured of affection from a man. Claresta may never enjoy the same.

  * * *

  Bloody Hell! What was the matter with Londoners? It was a bit of rain. Didn’t they experience the likes weekly? Did traffic always move so slowly when a downpour occurred?

  Or perhaps they were more reckless than he realized since they’d just passed an overturned cart, which must have been the source of much of their delay.

  Once again, he checked the time piece in his pocket. He was going to be late. He was already late, and all because traffic was moving as if they were stuck in mud and not on a waterlogged cobbled street.

  Had he anticipated that it would be this bad, Donovan would have left thirty minutes earlier. As soon as the carriage stopped before the Chambers’ home, he bounded out and rushed up to the door, not bothering to shield himself from the rain.

  It was at the height of rudeness to be as late as he was and all he could hope was that Lady Claresta would understand.

  “She’s not at home,” the butler announced, not even standing far enough back to allow Donovan to enter the foyer.

  Had he angered her so greatly? Was Lady Claresta so rigid in her schedule that she’d not see him now?

  “She’s gone to the British Museum. You will most likely locate her amongst the ancient manuscripts.”

  Donovan quickly thanked the man then ran back to the carriage, calling out his new direction.

  Already he was soaked to the bone, but as his tardiness was growing longer, he’d not return to Bridges’ home for a change. All he could hope was that some of his garments dried before he reached his destination.

  As the carriage pulled to the entrance, this time Donovan did take a large umbrella and rushed forward, though his boots became more soaked with each step.

  Once he gained the inside, Donovan paused to catch his breath and look around to determine the location of the ancient manuscripts. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted her immediately beside a display. Her golden curls spilled out from beneath a rose bonnet that matched her pelisse. He didn’t need to see her face to know that the lady leaning against a wall and studying the items inside of a case was Lady Claresta. A bit further away, her maid was engaged in an animated conversation with another man. Was Lady Claresta here to chaperone her maid instead of the other way around? It certainly appeared to be the case, as Esther wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to her charge.

  After taking a deep breath, Donovan strode across the floor and stopped directly behind Lady Claresta.

  “I do apologize for my tardiness and hope that ye can forgive my rudeness for not callin’ on ye at the appointed time.” It was the speech he had rehearsed from the moment he realized that he was going to be unforgivably late.

  Lady Claresta straightened and drew up her spine, then slowly turned as Donovan held his breath, waiting to see her face so that he might gauge her anger.

  At first, her expression revealed nothing. As one delicate eyebrow lifted, she studied his appearance from head to toe. And before he could explain, her eyes began to shimmer with delight. She burst out laughing and quickly covered her mouth.

  He was a bloody mess, and his clothing waterlogged to the point that he was surprised droplets weren’t falling to the floor.

  “Did someone toss you into the Thames?”

  “I dinna realize that traffic came to a snail’s pace when it rained,” Donovan ground out. “Had I been aware, I would have left much earlier to collect ye.”

  “All is forgiven, Mr. MacGregor.” She continued to chuckle. “We cannot always control what occurs around us, and I am pleased that you sought me out despite the circumstances of your state.”

  Inwardly, Donovan sighed as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He’d not realized how much he
did not wish to disappoint Lady Claresta.

  “I would understand if you wish to return to your set of rooms to change.” Delight still shone in her emerald eyes.

  Though he was soaked to the bone, her smile warmed him in ways that dry clothing couldn’t, and he wasn’t about to leave her now.

  “Is this yer favorite part of the museum?” he asked as he glanced about.

  “Not mine, but Esther’s.”

  Donovan frowned. Lady Claresta’s relationship with her maid was unlike anything he’d ever encountered.

  “It’s not so much the manuscripts,” Lady Claresta whispered as she slipped her gloved hand into the crook of Donovan’s arm and led him away. “But it is Mr. Hildegard that holds her attention, and he hers.”

  “Are they courtin’?” Donovan glanced back at the couple. The two hadn’t even glanced toward Lady Claresta. Should her maid know that she’d wandered off?

  “Oh, if only, then matters would be much simpler,” Lady Claresta sighed. “You see, Esther is quite taken with Mr. Hildegard as much as Mr. Hildegard is taken with Esther. He’s a scholar, the son of a merchant, and works with the Cottonian Library of books and manuscripts and the Harleian collection of manuscripts. They met two years ago and we’ve been visiting ever since. If only he’d gather the nerve to call on her, I might have the opportunity to visit much more of the museum, but as he has not, and as Esther isn’t so bold as to ask, we find ourselves in this section of the museum every Thursday afternoon.”

  “Why won’t he call?” Donovan asked.

  Lady Claresta shrugged. “He doesn’t feel it’s proper and doesn’t wish for her position within the household to be jeopardized.”

  “Does Esther have no free time of her own?” Donovan asked.

  “Yes, more so than most. I’ve even changed her free days so that they’d match Mr. Hildegard’s, but he’s not made the effort.” She pursed her lips and studied the two.