A Scot in the Dark (Scandal & Scoundrel #2)(59)

“I have, rather.”

He’d risen early to do so, committed to getting Lily married soonest. He intended to sign her dowry papers the moment she selected a suitor, and return to Scotland.

And forget about her.

“There is only one problem with your plan.”

“What is that?” There was no problem with the plan. He’d considered the plan from all angles.

“It has to do with compromising situations.”

He did not like the phrase on her lips. Or, perhaps he liked the phrase too much on her lips.

Irrelevant.

There was no problem with the plan.

“You see, Your Grace, since you arrived in London, I’ve found myself in precisely one compromising situation.” She stood straight and leveled him with a cool, grey gaze. “Last night. With you.”

It seemed there was a problem with the plan.





CHAPTER 12



ONE DUKE’S LOSS IS ANOTHER EARL’S GAIN

When she exited Dog House the next afternoon, dressed for a walk in Hyde Park with a gentleman she did not know, Lily was expecting a simple vehicle. Black. Possibly emblazoned with some kind of canine crest, considering her current residence. What she found, however, was a curricle beyond any conveyance Lily had ever seen.

It was not the sleek two-seated gig that young men rode proudly throughout London. Nor was it the elaborate gilded curricle in which ladies spent their Hyde Park afternoons.

It was unparalleled, and not only because Angus and Hardy sat at the center of the seating block like perfect little canine guards. Enormous and high seated, with great black wheels that reached nearly to her shoulder, the entire vehicle gleamed, pristine in the sunlight, even the wheels—which seemed to have somehow avoided the grime of the city’s cobblestone streets.

As if the vehicle and the dogs weren’t enough, the horses were remarkable. So black they shone nearly blue in the sun, and perfectly matched—precisely the same height, the same width. They took her breath away.

And all that before the driver appeared, coming around the side of the vehicle, tall and broad and tartan-clad, looking at once exceedingly wealthy and utterly wild with his bronzed legs and his wide shoulders and his eyes that seemed to see everything and his lips . . .

No. No lips.

She was not thinking of lips today.

Certainly not lips belonging to the Duke of Warnick.

She lifted her chin in the direction of the curricle as she descended the steps to Dog House. “This is beautiful.”

He grinned, turning to admire the curricle. “ ’Tis, isn’t it?”

She couldn’t help but match his smile with a shake of her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“That’s because there isn’t anything like it,” he said. “It’s custom made.”

Her brow furrowed. “You’ve a custom curricle? Whatever for? Do you spend a great deal of time driving about the Scottish countryside, eager to be seen?”

He laughed at the question, the sound warm like the unseasonable day. “It’s built for racing. Very light, perfectly balanced, fast as a bullet. It’s virtually unbeatable.”

She did not care for the image of him careening down a road at high speeds, putting himself in danger, but she ignored the concern. It wasn’t as though he were hers to worry about, after all. “Designed by you?”

“By Eversley, as a matter of fact.”

Confusion came once more. “So it belongs to the marquess.”

“Nae. He traded it to me.”

“For what?” She couldn’t imagine what a comparable item might have been.

“For a used saddle.”

Her mouth fell open. “Why would he do that?”

He smirked, rocking back on his heels. “Because the idiot man fell in love.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, but I was not about to turn the offer down.” He extended a hand to her. “Shall we go?”

She did not hesitate, letting him hand her up onto the seat—higher than any curricle seat in which she’d ever sat—to take her place next to Hardy, who immediately set his face in her lap for scratching. Lily was happy to oblige.

Alec pulled himself up to sit next to Angus. “You’re going to ruin my dog with sausage and adoration.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “It’s not as though I’m dressing him in jeweled crowns.”

He smiled at the jest, so quickly she wouldn’t have seen it if she hadn’t been looking. But she was. He had a beautiful smile. Not that she was noticing for any specific reason. It was simple fact. Like the sky being blue, or dogs having tails.

She was distracted from her line of dunderheaded thought when the vehicle began to move in the calmest ride she’d ever had, the box barely shifting with the motion of the wheels.

It was a glorious curricle. “I should like one of these.”

“I shall buy you one. As a wedding gift.”

Always with his mind on the goal—to get her married—to make her another’s problem. “If it is a wedding gift, it will not be mine. I’d rather it were a—”

He cut her a look. “A what?”

She shook her head. “I was going to say that I’d rather it was a birthday gift.”