5. November 1826

5

NOVEMBER 1826

NO 3 GROSVENOR STREET, MAYFAIR

H amish now realized what could go wrong, and there she stood, a dangerously beautiful, exotic beauty with an angry, vociferous bird guarding her from his perch on her shoulder and shouting profanities Hamish had rarely heard, even in the crudest of surgeries in Seven Dials where he volunteered his help a few hours each week.

"Cock bawd," the creature screeched, closely followed by "hedge whore!" Miss Hossini tried valiantly to quiet him, offering a handful of seeds and dried bugs, which the cockatoo eschewed only to screech louder — "cock bawd, cock BAWD." After his final shout had died out, she deftly produced a linen towel with which she gently covered his head whilst whisking him into a giant cage hanging in the middle of her first-floor parlor. She then covered the entire contraption with a huge sheet of some sort before dimming all the gas lights and putting a finger to her full lips as a warning to Hamish for quiet and pointing another finger toward the door to the hallway.

His boots crunched over copious seeds ground into the expensive Aubusson carpet covering the parlor floor as he followed the bewitching woman out of the room.

Mrs. Collins who had been introducing them when the bird began its uncontrollable screaming of epithets, waited for them outside the room where she still held her hands over her ears as protection against the raucous cursing.

Saida leaned against the wall next to the doorway and sighed. "I am so sorry, Dr. Douglas, Mrs. Collins. I'm still trying to wean Aji away from all the profanities he learnt around his former master, Captain El's Indonesian navigator. I'm afraid the poor bird picked up a lot of naughty speech patterns from sailors in many ports."

Mrs. Collins shook her head slowly and then laughed so hard, tears rolled down her cheeks. She bent over to regain control only to break out in laughter again. "Dr. Douglas, I wish you could see yourself. You look like a man who needs a bracing cup of tea, with maybe a splash of brandy. Why don't we adjourn to the first-floor drawing room where we can have a quiet discussion without Aji taking offense?

Hamish stood speechless in the dim light of the hallway sconces. He was trying to gather and manage all the thoughts whirling around his brain. He'd assumed all of Framlingwood's mistresses would be attractive, but Saida Hossini had the glowing carnal look of a voluptuous Botticelli angel kissed and bronzed by the Mediterranean sun. He'd also become accustomed to polite ton society where nothing even remotely carnal or uncouth ever was spoken aloud. He'd never be able to un-hear what her unholy bird had virtually seared into his ears.

Miss Hossini interrupted his scattered thoughts as they climbed the staircase to the upper floor. "I must warn you if you decide to stay in my household, Aji is extremely jealous. He's taken a dislike to all men since his master died and he became my pet."

Hamish stared into the depths of her intriguing green eyes and wondered if she knew what an understatement her explanation was. However, that damned bird had no idea with whom he was dealing. A Highlander had more grit and resolve than any flighty, bright-plumaged bird from the tropics. And besides, the amount of money at stake made this particular Highlander's resolve even mightier. He'd see the winged bastard the main course for Sunday supper before he'd give up now that he'd decided to become Saida's bodyguard.

Zeus's balls. Had Framlingwood never been the brunt of the bird's ire? If he had, he might have had second thoughts about hiring a bodyguard. Saida probably didn't need Hamish as long as she had that vicious fowl on her shoulder.

Saida suddenly interrupted his foul, er fowl thoughts. "Dr. Douglas…what is the real reason you're here? And don't tell me you've been assigned as my tutor-bodyguard."

"Why not? That's the truth of the matter." He picked at an imaginary piece of lint on his waistcoat to avoid drowning in those all-seeing green eyes. And, if he were honest with himself, to avoid being exposed as a fraud.

Cassandra Collins gazed surreptitiously from Dr. Douglas to Saida and back again. There was some sort of current coursing between the two of them, but it certainly wasn't mutual regard and attraction.

She sensed Saida was suspicious of having a strange man being placed in her household, and she couldn't say she blamed her. They were seated across from each other in matching settees, a cozy fire crackling in the drawing room fireplace.

Saida had cautiously chosen to sit next to her whilst Dr. Douglas had chosen the opposite settee. Cassandra leaned forward to place her teacup back onto its saucer on the low table between them. "Why don't you tell us something about yourself, Dr. Douglas?"

"Hamish, please. I'm not here to treat an ailment." He flashed them a smile mean to charm and disarm. She had to admit it was working, at least on her. However, next to her, she could almost feel the tensing of Saida's body, even though they were barely touching.

Saida suddenly stood and pointed toward the window overlooking the park. "Look—there's someone throwing rocks at a poor woman in the park."

Hamish stood immediately and rushed to observe the scene outside with Cassandra close behind. When she craned her neck to see around the burly Scotsman, she realized Saida was still back on the settee.

He whipped around and accused Saida. "There's no one out there. What did you really see?"

She gave him a smug smile. "I must have been mistaken."

After that, the tension in the room nearly crackled with the intense dislike that seemed to emanate from the two of them.

Cassandra realized with a start they'd probably be better off without her interference. And besides, they had to learn to get along when she wasn't around. She was merely following Derek's orders. The next time he invaded her parlor, she'd give him a piece of her mind about trying to manipulate people's lives…including hers.

She stood, excused herself, and returned to her own quarters, leaving Saida and Hamish exchanging angry looks.

Saida studied Hamish's face intently, wondering how long it would take the herbs she'd put into his tea to take effect. The valerian would relax him enough to remove his layer of superiority and confidence, and then she'd serve him a decanter of wine with just enough of her nocturne tea mix to loosen his tongue. She'd get to the bottom of what was going on, or know the reason why.

He suddenly slumped back onto the settee, his long, muscular legs sliding out in front of him. Even in his dark woolen, conservative jacket and trousers, the man was magnificent. Her mouth began to water. She nearly slapped herself to banish the images invading her mind.

She stood and gathered a few pillows from her settee before putting them behind his back and neck to keep him comfortable.

"Why'd you do that?" he protested.

Good . She imagined rubbing her hands together in glee.

She patted his hand and retrieved the tray with the wine decanter she'd prepared earlier from a sideboard. She'd sweetened the concoction with honey so that none of the taste of the herbs would alarm him. He didn't seem to notice her glass already contained a pour of wine.

After she poured the doctored drink into his glass, he leaned forward, sipped, and smiled broadly. "This is wonderful. How do you make it?"

"With lots of care and intention."

"Thank you." He saluted her with the glass, and she raised her own glass to her lips.

Her plan was proceeding so well she almost felt a twinge of guilt. Almost.

An hour later, the decanter was almost empty, and Hamish's tongue had become looser than a pack of geese clacking their way toward a pond. He'd told her everything she'd asked and more, throwing in every boring detail of his childhood, how much his half-sisters doted on him, and on and on. She'd finally had to give a series of false yawns, hoping he'd get the hint.

And then he'd revealed his dream - to start a clinic in Inverness so that he could be nearer his natural mother and treat his poor clansmen who'd been displaced from their farms and livelihoods by the clearances. She'd nearly cried at that revelation and had felt a large surge of guilt at how she was using his trusting nature against him.

At last, she'd had to move to his settee and squat down to get one of his massive arms over her shoulder before half leading, half dragging him to his bedchamber which was on the same level as the drawing room, thank Hera. He'd collapsed onto the counterpane, fully clothed with a beatific smile on his face.

As she climbed to her second-floor aerie of a bedchamber, Saida mulled over what she'd learned from the drugged Highlander. The earl was being blackmailed, and the blackmailer was threatening to hurt one or all of the mistresses if the earl didn't reveal which one of them was a murderess. Saida knew all of the mistresses hid secrets that made them prefer the shadow lives they all shared. But to think one of them was actually a murderess…a curtain of cold enveloped her. Who was she?