“I shall be fine, Mr Sloane,” she said with a lack of conviction.
Evidently, the man wanted rid of her quickly. Without a word of warning, he scooped her up into his muscular arms and strode towards the door.
Vivienne wrapped her arms around his neck and clung on for dear life. The musky scent of his cologne teased her nostrils, as did the smoky aroma of whisky on his breath. She resisted the urge to lay her head on his broad shoulder, to take comfort in the warmth of his body. A woman need fear nothing with Mr Sloane as her protector.
“I know you think me a terrible pest,” she said as he descended the mansion house steps as if she were as light as a child. “But I am very grateful for your assistance, sir.”
“Madam, the sooner I deposit you in the carriage, the sooner I can relax and enjoy the evening.”
Rain pelted their faces as they left the cover of the Grecian-inspired portico. “It must be rather lonely living in such a large house.”
“I manage perfectly well.” He threw her a dubious look. “I know your game, Miss Hart. While your approach to snagging a wealthy husband is original, your veiled attempts to sway my decision are less imaginative.”
“Given time, I could find more inventive methods of persuasion.” Her quick reply sounded rather salacious, far too out of character for a woman who hid behind marble pillars and watched him from afar.
Thankfully, Buchanan leant forward and opened the carriage door, saving her any embarrassment. The Scotsman tipped his grey felt cap to their host as a mark of respect.
“Just promise me one thing,” she said when Mr Sloane plonked her inside the vehicle. “Promise you’ll—”
“I’ll not take you as my wife, Miss Hart.” He slammed the door shut and instructed the coachman to move on.
Clawing desperation saw Vivienne yank down the window and thrust her head through the gap. The wind whipped her hair into her mouth. “Promise you’ll read the clue on the scroll!” she cried amid the distant rumble of thunder.
But Mr Sloane ignored her plea and strode towards the house. Despite one last effort to gain his attention, he did not glance back.
Chapter 3
“The gentleman is a stubborn mule.” Mrs McCready scowled at the window, though the carriage was already at Keel Hall’s main gate. The thin woman’s mouth rarely curled into a smile. Years spent battling the harsh Highland weather had left her with ruddy cheeks and a permanent frown.
“Och, the lad needs time.” As usual, Buchanan’s summary carried the measure of the situation. “The lass will have said enough to gain his interest.”
Vivienne prayed he was right. “Gentlemen like Mr Sloane are content to keep a mistress and have no need to take a bride. Hopefully, he’ll consider what I’ve said and be intrigued enough to grant me a second audience when I call tomorrow.”
“Well, he didna seem too happy when he dumped ye in the carriage,” Mrs McCready grumbled. “Though the butler’s plan worked well enough.”
“Plan? What plan?”
“To have Mr Sloane sweep ye up into his arms.”
Vivienne’s stomach grew hot at the memory. Any woman would relish the prospect of being he
ld in his strong embrace.
“Aye, the butler is desperate to see his master wed.” Buchanan chuckled as he twirled the ends of his grey moustache. “Though his motives are entirely selfish.”
“No doubt Fitchett longs for the day he can retire before midnight.” During her time spent lingering in the ladies’ retiring room, Vivienne discovered Mr Sloane’s penchant for entertaining guests until dawn.
“The butler fears being hit with another vase and losing the sight in his good eye,” Buchanan added.
“Hit with a vase? Is that why Fitchett wears an eye patch?”
“Aye, a woman in a devil of a temper threw a vase at Mr Sloane. He ducked just as the butler walked into the room.”
Mrs McCready gave a scornful snort. “Mr Fitchett said the master carries a heap of guilt and canna forgive himself. Though he canna be that sorry if he still hosts his wild parties.”
Vivienne silently contemplated her dilemma.
When a man lived with the freedom to do as he pleased, to entertain unscrupulous women, to fill his life with excitement and pleasure, what incentive was there to settle into the tedious humdrum of family life? Not that she expected anything from Evan Sloane other than proof of their marriage. After the deed, and after Mr Sloane had used his skills as an enquiry agent to capture the villain out for their blood, Vivienne would travel north and live out her days in the Highlands.