“Well, you’reherDuncan. The way she watches you is the way a tomcat watches a mouse. Right before he pounces.”
Duncan didn’t bother disputing this. He’d seen her watching him, and he blamed himself, in part. She was clearly the sort of woman who, when ignored, became more determined to catch a man. To be fair, he thought there was little he might have done that would have deterred Molly from chasing him. He’d pull her aside this morning and be honest with her—well, as honest as he could be in the situation.
By the time Duncan finished his tasks for the morning and joined the other servants at the breakfast table, Thomas was seated and looking as though he’d spent the night at a tavern rather than on the couch in Lord John’s parlor.
“A bit too much to drink last night?” one of the footmen said, giving Thomas a hearty pat on the back. Thomas winced.
“I don’t feel so well this morning.”
“Did Lord John invite you to share a drink with him?” Molly asked. “Or did you break into McAlpin’s chamber and steal some of his brandy?” She whispered the last.
“Neither,” Thomas said. “I didn’t have anything stronger than tea.”
“Sure you didn’t,” James said. “But as you always say, look lively. There’s work to do.”
McAlpin marched in a moment later, followed by Mrs. Cox, and soon the entire staff was scurrying to complete their assigned tasks. Molly was to wash windows on the second floor, and Duncan waited until she’d gathered her cleaning supplies then followed her to the first floor. Before she could start up the stairs, he cleared his throat. She turned and spotted him, her face brightening. He gestured toward the side of the grand staircase. There was an alcove here somewhat hidden from view by the curve of the staircase. The foyer was empty for the moment, and Duncan thought this was the best chance he’d have.
Molly joined him in the alcove and immediately threw her arms about him, pressing her lips against his. Duncan put his hands on her slim waist and pushed her back.
“You didn’t like it?” she asked.
“I-I did like it.” That was true. She had soft lips and even their brief encounter told him she was skilled at kissing. But she wasn’t Lucy. “I wanted to speak to you.”
“We can talk anytime,” she said, leaning toward him again.
Duncan stepped back. “Molly, we should talk now. You’re a lovely woman—”
“Oh, no. I know what this is.”
“I don’t want to lead you on.”
“You’re not leading me on, Duncan Smith. I just want a bit of fun. I don’t expect a proposal of marriage.”
“And as much fun as I think we’d have together, it’s a bad idea.”
She stuck her lower lip out in a pout. “You sure that’s the way you want it?”
“I’m sure. Maybe you could take up with MacRobie again. He has a soft spot for you.”
She raised her brows. “Does he now?”
Duncan released her, and she bent to retrieve her pail and slid out of the alcove. Duncan gave her a moment and then stepped out as well. Too late, he heard her say, “Good morning, Master Johnny. Miss Smith.”
Duncan would have given anything to slide back into that alcove, but he looked up and Lucy’s eyes were fixed on his. Her cheeks blazed with fire, and the set of her mouth told him, though she was a mediocre shot, if she had a pistol in that moment, she wouldn’t miss.
“Good morning,” Lucy said, tightly. Molly sauntered past her, smiling all the way.
“Good morning,brother,” Lucy said to Duncan.
“Lucy—”
“Come, Johnny. It looks like rain. We’d best hurry if we want to take our walk.” Head held high, she marched past Duncan.
“Good morning, Duncan!” Johnny cried as she pulled him along. “Have you been crying?”
“Not yet,” he answered. “But I may start any moment.”
He waited until Molly was out of sight then followed Lucy out the door. She’d walked right past the bench where they were supposed to meet—the bench where she’d kissed him last night (she was probably regretting that now)—and into the garden where the figure they’d seen in the dark had returned.
