Page 11 of Walk on the Wildsyde

“Oh, dear,” Mrs Macready said, stepping aside as Clara hurried past her. She turned back and narrowed her eyes at Hamilton. Pulling the front door gently closed, she crossed to the railings and wagged a finger at him. “What are ye up to, laddie? Why was Miss Halliday blushing scarlet, eh? I’ll nae have ye using ye wiles and making the poor lassie fall head over ears for ye. Are there nae enough girls breaking their hearts for ye in this town?”

“Mrs Macready, ye make me sound like some kind of villain. A regular Casanova, and ye ken very well, that’s nae true,” Hamilton protested. “I’m never anything but friendly. ’Tis nae my fault they like the look of me, I swear it.”

Though he felt a twinge of guilt as he reflected upon his conversation with Miss Halliday. He had teased her wickedly, and he had been flirting with her, which was not in the least bit sensible. Especially not as it seemed her father was ready to burn him at the stake for witchcraft or some such nonsense.

“Maybe aye, maybe no,” Mrs Macready said, crossing her arms over her ample bosom and giving him a look that told him he’d have her to deal with if he trifled with Miss Halliday.

As he had not yet met the reverend, this was a far more concerning prospect.

“Ach, I wouldnae trifle with an innocent lassie. Ye ken me better than that.” He held her gaze, watching as her pale blue eyes softened as he’d hoped they would.

“Aye. Reckon I do, but she’s a lovely child with a kind heart. And she has a deal to put up with,” she added darkly.

“He’s nae a kindly da, I reckon,” Hamilton said, jerking his chin in the direction of the study window.

Mrs Macready pursed her lips. “I’m nae a nashgab, ye ken.”

Hamilton, who was well aware Mrs Macready could gossip with the best of them when the mood took her, nodded gravely. “Aye, I ken that very well, but I’m nae about to blether their business about the town. Just between ye and myself, aye?”

Mrs Macready considered him for a long moment, and then, as he had hoped, unburdened herself. “He’s a regular bodach,” she said in disgust. “I’ve nae had the keeping of them for much more than a week, but I ken the type well enough. He keeps that poor girl on a string, and I reckon he intends to keep her there, too. She’s nae said as much, but I think he doesnae mean to let her marry.”

“Not let her marry? A bonnie lassie like that?” Hamilton said in astonishment.

“I reckon,” Mrs Macready said grimly. “She needs to get out of this house, and if ye ask me, she kens that very well. Which is why ye must nae play games with her. She’s like to take it seriously, and what with the reverend considering ye are the devil made flesh—”

“Aye, aye, I hear ye,” Hamilton said crossly. Damn the miserable ill-willie. He had enjoyed both his conversations with Miss Halliday very much, but he knew better than to dally with innocent girls.

Mrs Macready was right, he’d do well to keep everything businesslike between them. It would be hard, though, for there was something about the girl that made him want to tease her, to break through that serious exterior and make her smile. Perhaps it would be best if he stayed away entirely. He certainly had no wish to cross swords with some crabbit old vicar who he’d be forced to be polite to. There was no fun in facing an opponent you could not fight with fists or insults.

“Unless ye are serious about her, that is?” Mrs Macready added, a thoughtful glint in her eyes that made the hairs on the back of Hamilton’s neck stand on end.

“Dinnae start ye matchmaking on me, Freya Macready,” he told her, pulling himself up to his full height. She was a tiny woman that he could likely lift with one hand, but somehow she had the ability to make him feel like a snotty boy when she chose. “I’ve nae intention of wedding a vicar’s chit, so ye can just take that look off ye face right this minute.”

Mrs Macready shrugged, a smug tilt to her mouth that made Hamilton feel a little queasy. “I’ll nae lift a finger, so long as ye behave yerself. But ye cannae be running around with the likes of Mrs Scott forever, can ye now?”

To his frustration, Hamilton felt heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Haud yer wheesht,” he said, glancing around to be certain no one was by. “What do ye ken about her?” The smug look increased. “Only that she’s yer mistress and has been this past three months or more. Ye dinnae think ye could keep something like that entirely quiet for long in a town like Wick, did ye?”

“Well, there’s nae need to repeat it,” he told her sternly. “Moyra is a good sort, a good friend, and if there’s more to it than that, it’s no one’s business but our own, aye? We’re both adults and she gets lonely now her husband’s gone to his maker.”

“Aye, and nae a moment too soon,” Mrs Macready said sourly. “I dinnae begrudge the lady a bit of fun after living with that old miser, but there’s plenty who would. Have a care, aye? Talk of that kind will do ye no favours, especially if the reverend is trying to stir up trouble for ye.”

“Aye, ye are a wise woman, I ken very well. I’ll think on it, aye?” he said, suddenly out of sorts and irritable and wanting to get as far from the vicarage as he could.

“I’ll be seeing ye then,” Mrs Macready said, straightening her immaculate apron and going back into the house. Hamilton glowered at the shiny black front door for a long moment before muttering a curse under his breath and stalking away.