Shoving away those thoughts, he sought out Miss Russell amid the dainty furniture neatly positioned throughout the parlor he’d just walked into. She’d taken a seat on one of the sofas. Blayne moved toward her, intent on saying his piece, when he realized they weren’t alone. Another woman of a similar age to Miss Russell sat in the far corner, examining him with the pinched expression people tended to use when they came across a piece of refuse.
He scowled at her and she instantly drew back as if seeking shelter against the backrest.
“Daisy, would you please be so kind as to tell Mama and Papa Mr. Wright has arrived?”
Only the briefest hesitation conveyed Daisy’s disapproval of this request before she stood, spoke a quick, “Right away, miss,” and departed.
Blayne waited until he could no longer hear her retreating steps before he raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Wright?”
“Yes.” Miss Russell folded her hands in her lap. “That is your name from now on.”
He actually laughed, dismayed by her audacity. The situation was more ridiculous than he’d supposed, and it was high time he up and left before she decided to do something truly horrendous like tell her parents he’d gotten her with child. A surge of panic went through him on that thought. He studied her calmly composed features.
Dear merciful God, he’d not put it past her. Which prompted him to march forward, lean over, and ask, “Are ye demented?”
She clenched her jaw. Sparks danced within the emerald green of her eyes until they blazed with righteous indignation. Unable to move, Blayne stared back at her while doing his damnedest to fight the effect she was having on him. Lord, she was a passionate creature and he couldn’t quite help but wonder what it might be like to encourage this fiery streak of hers in other more interesting ways.
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “And no, I am not. But I cannot very well introduce you as Mr. MacNeil. Can I? Since even I know who you are I’m sure Mama and Papa must have heard of you too, which would not be to my advantage at all. Besides, I hardly see the issue with you employing a different name when bearing in mind the exorbitant price I’ve agreed to pay you.”
Mentioning their deal helped banish the inappropriate thoughts attempting to gain a foothold in his brain. He shoved his hands in his pockets and straightened his posture until he was truly towering over her. “Ye’re making an excellent effort to force my hand, Miss Russell, for which I must give ye credit. Unfortunately, I have nae come here to start work or to let myself be bamboozled into deceiving yer parents or whoever else ye may have in mind. Indeed, I’ve come to inform ye that ye must find someone else to fill the position.”
She blinked and proceeded to smooth out her skirt. Blayne watched as she swallowed and took a few breaths. It was almost as if he’d finally managed to knock the wind out of her sails, and for some peculiar reason, he hated the result.
“I’m sorry if you feel as though I’ve attempted to trick you in some way. No doubt I’d imagine the same if I were in your position, hired to do one thing and promptly asked to do another.” The sincerity with which she spoke surprised him. Until now, she’d been the very image of cool self-assurance, forging ahead with the sort of manipulative expertise the swindlers of London could learn a great deal from. A hint of uncertainty and remorse softened her features. She bit her lip. “My situation has changed a great deal since yesterday.”
“That may well be, but I’m afraid ye will have to ask someone else for help.”
“But…” She stood with hasty resolve. Her brows drew together above a pair of imploring green eyes. “I need you, Mr. MacNeil. Please. Don’t go.”
Blayne’s gut twisted in response to the urgency in her tone. He deliberately hardened his features in order to bury the inconvenient sensation beneath the annoyance he ought to be feeling. “I’m sure ye think so, but whatever yer reason for wanting a fake fiancé, the truth is ye ought to steer clear of men like me. In fact, I’d advise ye never to venture into St. Giles again. It was downright foolish of ye to go there to begin with.” Anger rose at the memory of Mr. Evans pawing her thigh. “What happens if ye’re attacked by a group of thugs working together? What will ye do when they hold ye down and force themselves on ye?”
“My intention was to avoid such a scenario by employing you,” she muttered.
“Except ye’re also asking me to attend social functions with ye now, are ye not?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps one or two.”
“During which I’d be introduced as the man ye mean to marry.” He snorted. “Forgive me, but I’ve nae intention of letting such a rumor attach itself to my name.”
“But it wouldn’t be your name. It would be—” She clamped her mouth shut and smiled at a spot behind him, all traces of her distress carefully stowed away beneath a composed exterior. “Mama. Papa. Allow me to introduce Mr. Wright. Mr. Wright, these are my parents, Viscount and Viscountess Elkins.”
Blayne wanted to gnash his teeth together. He’d no intention of continuing this charade for one more second. In fact, he was tempted to say he was not the man Miss Russell claimed him to be, storm out of the town house, and get himself as far away from her as possible. Except when he turned and saw her parents regarding him with a mixture of shock, disapproval, and downright disbelief, the devil sitting upon his shoulder tempted him with an almost perverse desire to needle them.
So rather than walking away from what was without doubt the worst decision ever, Blayne ignored the instinct he’d always relied on and stuck out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally make yer acquaintance. Yer daughter has told me so much about ye.”
Lady Elkins, a thin woman with sharp features who clearly favored bright colors judging from her orange gown, sucked in a breath while her eyes seemed to double in size. “Good heavens. He’s not just unkempt, he also speaks like a hoodlum.”
“Mama,” Miss Russell admonished. “I did mention him being Scottish.”
“It’s quite all right…darling. As ye ken, I must look the part I’m requested to play.” Blayne gave his supposed fiancée a devilish smile before returning his attention to her mother. “An explanation is certainly in order.”
“It is?” Miss Russell squeaked.
“Indeed.” Blayne allowed himself an inward grin and promptly reached for Lady Elkins’s hand. Executing a perfect bow, he kissed the air immediately above her knuckles, then straightened and deliberately faced the viscount. “My undercover work for the Home Office forces me to remain in character at all times. In case I happen upon the men I’ve spent the last year trying to bring to justice.”
“I was led to believe you were an entrepreneur,” Lord Elkins said with eyes too sharp for Blayne’s liking. “At least, that is what our daughter told us.”
“I see. Well…um…I also have a business,” Blayne said. “I suppose it would make more sense to mention that.”
“Oh look, Mama,” Miss Russell said in an obvious attempt to distract her parents from his blunder. “He brought flowers for each of us.” She produced two bouquets consisting of cream colored roses and other blooms in various shades of blue, pink, and yellow.