Alec Mackenzie's Art of Seduction (Mackenzies & McBrides #9)(42)

She could mean the men who had taken Sophia’s body to be buried in St. George’s burial ground in Mount Street. There had been a tomb prepared at Lady Flora’s husband’s estate in Hampshire, but the new Marquess of Ellesmere, her deceased husband’s great-nephew, and Lady Flora did not get on, as everyone knew. Lady Flora insisted Sophia remain in London, where she would be near, as Flora had use of the Grosvenor Square house for her lifetime. Ellesmere had argued, but Lady Flora had prevailed.

Celia mulled all this over as Lady Flora continued to cry, and Celia rocked her, but she was no more enlightened.



By the time Alec arrived home, it was dark. He went straight to Jenny, happier once he could hold his daughter close.

She was quiet tonight, and when he remarked on it, Sally told him Lady Celia had come upstairs to calm her earlier.

“Did she, now?” Alec bounced Jenny, making her laugh. “Did ye like her, Jenny? She’s a bonny lass, isn’t she?”

Sally gave him an aghast look. “She’s a duke’s daughter, sir.”

As far as Sally knew, Alec was Alden Finn, drawing tutor from an impoverished gentleman’s family from Ireland. Not good enough for the likes of Lady Celia Fotheringhay.

Alec grinned at her. “Doesn’t make her less comely, does it? Don’t worry, lass, I’ll hold my tongue around my betters.”

“She was right good with the babe,” Sally admitted. “Jenny took to her, didn’t you, Jen?”

Jenny shoved her fingers into her mouth and gurgled around them. She already knew she was endearing and strove to use that fact to her advantage. She was a Mackenzie all right.

It was time for Jenny’s supper and bed, so Alec relinquished her to Sally, kissed her good night, and went down to find Mrs. Reynolds to continue their council of war.

Mrs. Reynolds and Lady Flora were at table in Lady Flora’s private dining room, the footmen waiting motionlessly near the sideboard heaped with food. Alec was a bit surprised Lady Flora had not left for her nightly round of social gatherings, but no, she sat in her place at the head of the table, nibbling on a feast.

Not eating much, though, Alec saw as he seated himself and accepted a large portion of fish and meat from the footman. Lady Flora appeared pale and unwell, though her eyes sparkled with her usual guile.

Lady Flora dismissed the footmen after they’d served Alec, waiting until they pulled the doors closed behind them before she spoke.

“Mrs. Reynolds told me all,” she said as she traced patterns in the butter sauce with her fork. “I agree with her that you must cease dilly-dallying about Celia and bring her under your power.”

“I’ll not be harming the lass,” Alec said quickly, his irritation rising. “She’s been through too much for that.”

Lady Flora sniffed. Her eyes were strangely pink, her face puffy, which explained why she hadn’t gone out. She never left the house unless she was the picture of beauty.

“Celia is resilient,” Lady Flora said. “And I did not mean she should be harmed. She has kindness in her—” She broke off and swallowed. “You are quite wealthy, are you not? If you make her your mistress, you could arrange for her to paint leisurely away at a seaside spa for the rest of her life, out of reach of her foul family. How far are you willing to go?”

Alec recalled the ghostly fog surrounding the abandoned house in the country, the rain staining the carriage windows like tears. He thought of Will Mackenzie’s sunny smile as he beguiled with one breath and bested you in the next. Was Will in that house, or another like it, waiting to face execution? His smile would be gone, his charm extinguished.

Alec had already resolved that his father would not have to face losing another son. He and Mal would make bloody certain of that.

“As far as I need to,” Alec said grimly.

Lady Flora gave him a decided nod. “Good. I have an idea. But you must follow it to the letter. Agreed?”

The shot that had killed Duncan rang in Alec’s mind, as did his father’s broken voice when he’d looked at Alec moments later and called him by the name of his dead twin.

“Aye,” Alec answered, his heart burning. “I’m agreed.”





Chapter 13





Celia returned to Lady Flora’s in eager anticipation the next morning.

“Is Lady Flora well?” she asked Rivers as a footman took her cloak and another departed upstairs with the portfolio.

Rivers gave her a nod. His unflappable demeanor had returned, but his eyes held gratitude. “She has recovered. She is breakfasting with Mrs. Reynolds but asked not to be disturbed.”

“Ah, it does sound as though she is better. Thank you, Rivers.”

Rivers bowed, his evident concern for Lady Flora touching. Lady Flora was a difficult woman, but Celia was glad to see she engendered affection and compassion in Rivers and Mrs. Reynolds at least. It would be horrible to be completely unloved.

Celia’s heart beat faster as she made her way to the studio, her anticipation of seeing Alec humming through her. She wanted to make certain he was safe, ask what he’d been doing yesterday, and whether he’d been hiding from the soldiers.

He’d been gone from the house a long time, returning last evening after dark. Celia knew this because she’d been watching across the square, craning her head to study every carriage that so much as paused near Lady Flora’s house. She’d seen Mrs. Reynolds alight a little after eight o’clock, followed by a tall, cloaked and hatted man, difficult to distinguish in the distance, but she’d known it was Alec.