To Beguile a Beast (Legend of the Four Soldiers #3)(37)

“Good.” Helen nodded to Meg, who, with the rest of the servants, had been standing watching the argument. “Please ask Cook for some tea and see if she has any scones or cakes to go with it.”

“Yes, mum.” Meg hurried from the room.

Helen stared pointedly at the remaining servants until they followed reluctantly.

“Won’t you offer your sister a seat?” Helen murmured to Sir Alistair.

“I’ve got work to do,” he grumbled, but said, “Please sit, Sophia, Phoebe. You, too, Mrs. Halifax.”

“But—” she started, then thought better of her objection when he turned his one eye to glare at her. She sat primly in an armless chair.

“Thank you, Alistair,” Miss Munroe said, and lowered herself to one of the settees.

Miss McDonald sat beside her and said, “It’s so nice to see you again, Alistair. We were disappointed that you couldn’t come for Christmas. We had a lovely roast goose, quite the biggest I’ve ever seen.”

“I never come for Christmas,” Sir Alistair muttered. He chose a chair next to Helen, making her rather self-conscious.

“But perhaps you should,” Miss McDonald chided gently.

Her words seemed to be much more effective than Miss Munroe’s strident ones. Sir Alistair’s high cheekbones actually looked a little ruddy. “You know I don’t like to travel.”

“Yes, dear,” Miss McDonald said, “but that’s not sufficient reason to ignore us. Sophie was quite hurt when you never even wrote her a Christmas letter.”

Beside her, Miss Munroe snorted, looking far from hurt.

Sir Alistair frowned and started to open his mouth.

Helen feared what he might say and hastily addressed Miss McDonald. “I understand you live in Edinburgh?”

That lady beamed. “Yes, indeed. Sophie and I have a lovely Whitestone house with a view of the city. Sophie belongs to quite a few scientific and philosophical societies, and we can attend a lecture, a demonstration, or a salon nearly every day of the week.”

“How lovely,” Helen said. “And you must be interested in science and philosophy, too, Miss McDonald?”

“Oh, I have an interest,” she replied, smiling, “but not the avocation that Sophie has.”

“Nonsense,” Miss Munroe barked. “You do quite well for an untrained mind, Phoebe.”

“Why, thank you, Sophie,” Miss McDonald murmured, and twinkled conspiratorially at Helen.

Helen hid a smile. Miss McDonald seemed to know exactly how to handle her formidable friend.

“Did you know that Sir Alistair is working on another wonderful book?” she asked.

“Really?” Miss McDonald clapped her hands. “Can we see it?”

Miss Munroe arched an eyebrow at her brother. “Glad to hear you’re working again.”

“It’s still in the early stages yet,” he muttered.

The maids returned with the tea things at that point, and for a moment all was chaos as they set up.

Sir Alistair took advantage of the bustle to lean toward Helen and murmur, “Wonderful?”

She felt her cheeks heat. “Your book is wonderful.”

His brown eye searched her face. “You’ve read it, then?”

“I haven’t—not all of it—but I looked through part of it last night.” She felt her breath catch at the intensity of his gaze. “It was fascinating.”

“Was it?”

He was watching her mouth now, his eye narrowed and intent, and she wondered if he was remembering their kiss. She’d vowed not to repeat it. Involving herself with this man would be yet another example of rushing into folly without a thought for the danger. But as he raised his gaze and met her eyes, she knew.

Dangerous as it was, this folly was beginning to look very tempting, indeed.

* * *

AFTER TEA, ALISTAIR spent the remainder of the afternoon in his tower, not only because he wanted to finish the section on badgers, but also because he feared that if he lingered much longer near his seductive housekeeper, he might do something truly foolish. And besides, he was certain Sophia was harrying the help to clean the castle. He would be smart to stay well away from that.

So it was evening before he saw Mrs. Halifax again. He’d just come from his rooms, having remembered to clean up before dinner and even pull out a decent coat and breeches so his sister wouldn’t scold too badly. Mrs. Halifax had also decided to wear her best, it seemed. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, watching her before she saw him. She’d worn the same blue frock every day since she’d come to the castle, but tonight she had on a green and gold gown, much too rich for a housekeeper, and what was worse, it revealed even more of her creamy bosom. Suddenly Alistair was glad that he’d taken the time to club his hair back and shave.

She turned and saw him at that moment, and for a second she paused, her blue eyes wide and vulnerable, her lovely cheeks pink and innocent. He should simply turn and remount the stairs. Lock himself in his tower and order her from his castle and his life. She hoped for some starry future, and he knew he had none.

Instead he strolled toward her. “You seem to have everything well in hand for dinner, Mrs. Halifax.”

She looked distractedly into the dining room. “I think it’ll do. Let me know if the service isn’t properly done. Tom’s still learning about serving soup.”