A Scandalous Scot Read Online Free

for the truth.
    Jean managed a weak smile, but it had no effect on Aunt Mary’s intent look.
    She glanced over at the earl. His eyes were narrowed, his lips thinned. His face seemed hewn from a block of wood—a block of angry wood.
    The situation called for a bit of subservience.
    “Forgive me, Your Lordship,” she said, curtsying. “I should have been more careful.”
    He didn’t say a word, the loathsome cur. Nor did his expression ease.
    Neither did her aunt’s, but now there was a look on her face that Jean didn’t like one bit. Compassion was rarely evident in the housekeeper’s expression, but it was there now, as if Aunt Mary were apologizing in advance for having to release her from her position at Ballindair.
    If she had to leave, what would happen to her?
    She stared down at the floor, frozen by the thought.
    “Since your maid is so conscientious, can I assume my suite is ready?” the earl asked.
    Jean glanced up. At Aunt Mary’s look, she shook her head.
    “Not yet, sir, but it shall be shortly,” the housekeeper said. “May I offer you some refreshments? Breakfast, perhaps?”
    Jean’s stomach rumbled at that moment, loud enough that the other maids giggled, even Catriona. The blond man smiled, but the earl looked as if the sign of her hunger was another mark against her. Her aunt just sighed.
    “Do you feed your maids, Mrs. MacDonald?”
    “Yes, Your Lordship.”
    He studied Jean, as if seeking out more flaws. She faced him resolutely. If he meant to shame her, then he was two years too late. If he meant to discover all her transgressions, then he’d better have a ledger handy. She had a great many of them to be recorded.
    After a long, speechless moment, he headed for the door, his companion at his side.
    At the doorway, however, he turned. “Who did you think I was?” he asked, looking at her. “Which ghost?”
    “The Herald,” she said. “But you didn’t have pipes.”
    He only nodded.
    As he left, she had the oddest thought that they’d had a secret conversation, one no one else understood.
    “Get up there and clean, Jean,” her aunt said. “You’re acting as daft as a yett on a windy day. Be about your tasks, and we’ll talk later.”
    Then, with a wave of her hand, she was out the door, after the earl and his companion, leaving the four maids staring at each other.
    Jean turned, leading the way back up the curving steps and wishing she had the courage to put toads in the Earl of Denbleigh’s bed.
    “D id you see her?” Andrew said. “What a glorious creature!”
    Morgan glanced over at his friend. “I thought her plain and without merit.”
    Andrew sent him an incredulous look. “Didn’t you see her eyes? I’ve never seen blue eyes like that.”
    “They’re brown.”
    “Not the mouse,” Andrew said. “The other maid. The glorious one with blond hair.”
    “And blue eyes.” Evidently, there would be some occupation for Andrew at Ballindair. “Leave my maids alone,” the earl said.
    Andrew smiled. “You want her for yourself,” he said.
    “Good God, no.”
    He was done with women for a while. He wanted nothing to do with them. He didn’t want to be in their company. He didn’t want to hear them speak. He didn’t even want to see one. Especially Mrs. MacDonald, who was following him at a winded pace.
    Resigned, he stopped and faced the housekeeper. Before she could begin an involved apology, he said, “Would you send word to Mr. Seath I’ve arrived, Mrs. MacDonald. I’d like to speak to him as soon as possible.”
    Fear spread over her face, and he should have reassured her his meeting with his steward had nothing to do with her performance—or lack of it. But he remained silent, wishing she would do the same.
    It was not to be.
    “Forgive me, Your Lordship, we were told you were not to arrive for a matter of days,” she said, wringing her hands. “Otherwise, I would have had everything in readiness.”
    “Forgive me , Mrs. MacDonald, for failing to