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“I’m just as surprised as you are,” Grant dryly replied.
Fiddling with the broken lock on Kathleen’s trunk, Angus nodded. “There haven’t been highwaymen in these parts for years. Now, London is a different story, ye ken, with its fleshpots. Full of rum coves and all sorts of diddlers and cheats.”
“Dear me,” said Brown, looking scandalized by such reckless use of cant.
Almost as scandalized as when he’d found Kathleen’s stays. With two fingertips, he’d carried them at arm’s length, his face as red as a strawberry. Kathleen had quickly stuffed the offending object into her trunk, but not before Grant glimpsed pink satin ribbons and a lot of pink lace. He’d had a sudden, wildly inappropriate desire to see more of her underthings, specifically while she was wearing them.
“Kath and I have never been robbed in London, though,” Jeannie dubiously said. “Not that we ever stray very far from Mayfair, much less go to the fleshpots.”
“Goodness, one certainly hopes not,” exclaimed Brown.
Angus tapped his nose. “Well, Vicar, I could tell ye some stories—”
“Grandda, you have never even been to London,” Grant interrupted as he closed Kathleen’s trunk and hoisted it into the boot. “Much less to any fleshpots.”
“Now, see here, laddie—”
“May I remind you and everyone else that we have just been robbed by armed bandits,” Grant said with asperity. “We need to go.Now.”
Kathleen briskly nodded. “Quite right. Thank you for giving us the time to gather up our things.”
She plucked the shoes from her sister’s hands and bent over to place them in Jeannie’s trunk, shoving down the rumpled contents so the lid could be closed.
“I’m sure we’re fine, especially with Mr. Brown here to protect us,” Jeannie said as she regarded the vicar with a worshipful gaze.
Kathleen glanced up at her sister with some alarm. Then, muttering something under her breath, she went back to her struggle with the overstuffed trunk.
Brown failed to notice his new admirer’s youthful enthusiasm, since he was currently transfixed by something else—namely, Kathleen’s shapely arse. Grant had to repress an overwhelming impulse to toss the right, bloody reverend into the ditch.
Angus dug an elbow into his side. “Looks like ye might have a little competition.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Grant replied.
He stalked past Brown and hunkered down next to Kathleen, who was now struggling with the lock. “Here, lass, let me do that.”
She breathed out such a sad sigh that it almost broke his heart. “My fingers don’t seem to want to work.”
“You’ve had a bad shock, but we’ll get you to Lochnagar and you can have a nice rest.”
“I’d rather a nice brandy, to tell you the truth.”
Since she was still pale, her freckles standing out like a fey dusting of spice, Grant agreed that a stiff drink was in order.
He clicked the lock shut and stood up holding the trunk.
“Careful, sir,” Kathleen said. “It’s quite heavy.”
“Here, let me help you,” Brown said.
“No need.” Grant brushed past him.
Well,shovedpast him might be a more accurate description. And, yes, his grandfather’s chuckle made it clear he was acting like a jealous boob.
After he stowed the trunk, he moved around to the front of the carriage. “All set, Robby?”
The groom, who was standing guard with Grant’s pistol, nodded. “All set, sir.”
“I’ll take the pistol, then. I’m going to ride up top with Danvers. You’ll ride inside with my grandfather and the ladies.”
