A Most Dangerous Profession(50)

It was a rude move, since a gentleman would have seen his wife seated first.

Ross sent Robert a hard look and then made a point of offering the next best seat to Moira, who took it with a blush. How does she do that?

Ross sat down near Robert while Carmichael took a seat at the table, discreetly out of the way.

Robert stretched out his legs and examined the sheen of his boots. “I am delighted you made the trip here. I expected only Carmichael.”

“It was a lovely day, perfect for a ride.”

“You rode?” Robert lifted the monocle to Ross. “I thought Balnagown was still some distance.”

“It is six miles down the road. I ride at least an hour every day. It keeps one fit.”

“Riding is so . . . bouncy. It was uncomfortable enough getting here by coach. By the way, my luggage should be arriving later. Two more coaches, in fact.”

Ross looked confused. “Two?”

“My clothes, sir,” Robert said in a lofty tone.

“Oh. Of course, of course.” He shot a glance at Moira. “Ladies do love to have all their pretty gowns with them.”

“Oh, I brought only two trunks,” Moira said artlessly. “Robert brought six.”

Ross blinked. “Six?”

“It is so hard to know how to dress in the country,” Robert said. “Will it be too cold? Or too warm? All one knows is that it will be ‘too’ something.”

Moira added, “Hurst says that spring in Scotland is uncertain, and summer only slightly less so.”

“It’s a heathen land, ma chère,” Robert said. “Which is why I didn’t think you should come.”

“Heathen?” Ross sent a dark look at Robert. “I must protest that, sir!”

“Oh, it’s not worth the effort,” Robert said easily.

Ross’s flush deepened. “I think you’ll find all of the same luxuries at Balnagown as you’d find anywhere in London.” He turned to Moira. “Wait until you see Balnagown Castle. The lands about it are incomparable.”

“I am glad I brought my riding habit, then. I love to ride, too, although some people do not.” She shot a side-glance at Robert.

He yawned. “Yes, yes. I can only hope that Sir Lachlan will take you for a ride or two.”

“I would be delighted,” Ross said.

“It would be a boon to me, for I find horses a dead bore.”

Ross looked as if he thought Robert was half mad. After a visible struggle he managed to say in a mild tone, “There are many excellent trails near Balnagown Castle. I’d be delighted to take Mrs. Hurst on the best ones.”

Moira looked pleased. “I shall look forward to it.”

“Providing the coaches make it here with your habit,” Robert said, aggrievedly. “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if they became stuck in the mud. I’ve never seen worse roads.”

Moira sniffed. “You’re really worried about your clothes, not mine.”

“I would be quite upset to lose the new shirts I just had made. The Belgian lace cost a fortune.”

Ross’s smile was only slightly less than contemptuous. “Mr. Hurst, you do live up to your reputation as a fashion plate.”

“Thank you. I hope that you live up to yours.” At Ross’s startled expression, Robert added, “As an honest trader and businessman, of course.”

“Of course.”

The innkeeper returned with a small tray bearing four glasses and a decanter of scotch.

Mr. Carmichael stood and rubbed his hands together. “Ah, MacKeith, ye’re a man after me own heart! A wee dram will warm the air.”

Moira stood as well. “Please allow me to pour.” She crossed to the tray.

The innkeeper turned to Ross. “Will ye be needin’ yer dinner?”

Ross shook his head. “No, thank you. We won’t be staying that long.”

MacKeith bowed and left while Moira poured the whiskey and spoke quietly with Mr. Carmichael.

Robert turned to his host. “So, Ross, this artifact. I’ve been quite anxious to see if it’s in as good repair as your agent said it is.”

“Mr. Hurst, please. There will be time to discuss the artifact when we’re at the castle.”

“I take my collections very seriously. I appreciate beauty in all forms: a fine painting, a valuable object d’art”—he glanced at Moira—“a woman’s white skin.”