Page 13 of A Scoundrel’s Promise

“Splendid. The particular trainer I have in mind will give the horse a proper finishing.” Mackenzie suppressed a smile of glee. Liam Fraser. He wouldn’t be able to refuse such a request. She’d have him at the house daily, and that would give her time to weave her web. “I shall write him tonight.”

“Very well,” her father answered in a distracted manner. “I’ll send for the horse in the morning.”

“Wonderful, Papa.” Mackenzie grinned. Such a delightful turn of events. She reached for the door knob.

“Ah, yes, my dear,” her father’s deep voice rumbled from the desk. “Lord Gilford has accepted my invitation and will arrive in time to attend the party your mother is hosting this Saturday.”

Mackenzie froze. Invitation? Her head snapped back. An invitation sent to Lord Gilford meant only one thing. With Lord Gilford, in particular, this invitation was nearly as good as a contract. She drew a deep, calming breath and then faced her father once more.

His attention remained on the letter he held. “It is time you wed, my dear,” he said without looking up. The parchment rustled as he refolded the letter. “Gilford is delighted to join us. I am certain you will find him a suitable match.”

Mackenzie opened her mouth to reply when a tap sounded on the door. She opened the door and smiled at sight of Sir Stirling James. “Sir Stirling,” she cried, and dipped into a courtesy.

Stirling laughed and lifted her easily to her feet. “None of that, my lady. How have you been?”

Until her father had mentioned the dreadful Lord Gilford, she’d been perfectly fine—better than fine. She wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into Papa.”

Sir Stirling’s brows rose. “In fifteen years, I have yet to talk one bit of sense into him, but tell me, what has he done?”

“He wants to marry me to the very boring Lord Gilford.”

“Mackenzie,” her father warned.

“She might have a point, Richard. Lord Gilford is a fine fellow, but he is no’ all that imaginative.”

Mackenzie grinned at having found an ally. “See, even Sir Stirling agrees.”

Her father didn’t appear impressed. “Stirling will feel differently when his daughter is old enough to wed. Gilford is a dependable man who will protect you.”

“There will be nothing to protect, for I shall die of boredom,” Mackenzie objected somewhat sourly and then dropped a quick courtesy. “Forgive me, I must go. Mamma asked my help in planning her party.”

***

Lady Mackenzie swept from the room like the tornado she was. Stirling hid a smile as he crossed the room to the chair by his friend’s desk and lowered himself onto the seat.

“Marriage, eh?” Stirling murmured. “Lady Mackenzie doesn’t seem taken with the idea.”

“She is a young girl taken with the idea of romance. Life is not romantic.”

“A little romance doesnae hurt,” Stirling said.

Richard humphed, and opened a letter sitting on his desk. “As I said, you will sing a different tune when it comes time to marry off Ella.”

Stirling gave a slow nod. “I hope I can still recall that romance matters.”

The earl’s eyes shifted from the letter to Stirling. “You have something on your mind?”

Stirling shrugged. “Nothing in particular. How is the building of your stable and storehouses going?”

Richard folded the letter and placed it in the desk. “Men have been clearing trees the last week. Liam Fraser should have more drawings for me tomorrow.”

“He would make a fine engineer. I suggested he return to school.”

The viscount nodded. “He would be wise to consider an education.”

“Over time, he will. They have repaired the dormitory and barn on the abbey grounds.”

Richard leaned back in his chair. “You seem to have taken an interest in the men’s wellbeing.”

“They have seen too many horrors.”

He nodded. “Aye, war is not kind.”

Stirling understood the depth of his friend’s experience. He’d fought at Trafalgar. If anyone understood that only love could restore a man to sanity after the horrors of war, it was Richard Caine, Viscount Dunn.