Kilgannon (2 page)

Rebecca nodded. "Queen Anne, King Louis, and the war with France, King Philip and whether Spain will side with us or France next time. Lawrence was spellbound."

I shook my head. "I get so bored with it. Endless discussions of the same things., And don't forget the gossip. Lord Someone spoke to Lady Someone at a party and Miss Someone accepted a sip of punch from Mister Someone. Hours' worth of discussion."

Becca laughed. "You'll survive, and tomorrow is the Duchess's party."

"For which we will prepare all day. And then we'll spend the next week preparing for Louisa's party." I grimaced. "At least Will and Betty are still in London."

"How much longer will they stay?"

"Two weeks, then they're off to Mountgarden. Perhaps I'll go with them," I said, feeling a sudden longing for my childhood home. "But it's not the same with my parents gone. I don't know what I'll do."

"You'll go with them. You know Will enjoys your company."

I nodded. "And I his. But, Becca, it's their home now. I have no home of my own. I live with Louisa or Will and Betty. There is nowhere that is mine, truly mine."

Rebecca patted my hand. "I know," she said, suddenly serious.

I shrugged and smiled at my friend. "What will I do without you to listen to my complaining? What a spoiled child I am, thinking of such things when Will has offered me a home for forever, and Louisa as well. I should be more grateful." But just now I didn't feel grateful. Outside, a cloud passed before the sun. Tomorrow, no doubt, it would rain. And I would change my clothes four times before dinner.

I did survive dinner with the
Bartlett’s
, although I amused myself only by counting the number of scandalous stories waspish Edmund Bartlett told. Twelve, I decided at the end of the evening, unless I'd forgotten one. I smiled genuinely as I climbed into the coach with my aunt and Will and Betty. The evening was over.

The Duchess's party the next night was a great success, crowded and happy, and I enjoyed myself much more than I had thought I would. My aunt's dear friends, John and Eloise Barrington, the Duke and Duchess of Fenster, had warmly welcomed me, lavishing compliments on the new blue dress, and I had laughed and bantered with them. Lawrence was very accommodating, and Becca and I had time to talk with our friends Janice and Meg. Even my sister-in-law, Betty, was in great spirits after having been complimented by several men, which meant that Will had a good time as well. The party was over before I'd expected. If I had found the handsome man Becca said had watched me for hours my evening would have been complete, but despite our roaming through all the rooms he was nowhere to be found, and I teased Rebecca about inventing a mystery man for me. The only cloud in the evening was the chilly manner of the few Whigs invited. The Barringtons were influential Tories—the party that currently dominated the Parliament and vied for Queen Anne's attention—and were considered quite tolerant to invite the opposition to their home, although many Tories were doing that lately. Both political parties were in their infancy, but the Tories generally favored the Anglican church and were considered insular by the Whigs, who favored the dissenters and military involvement in Europe. While the Whigs were polite to me and my aunt, we were both aware that we were mere women and therefore of little consequence. For the most part they ignored us, which suited me. Their behavior and its political ramifications would be discussed endlessly, I knew, in the week before the next event, and I would hear hours of it. There was no need to dwell on it tonight.

The next week flew by, a kaleidoscope of preparations for Louisa's party. I trailed behind her in awe as always of her effortless abilities. She managed household and servants with the ease of a born commander, and I watched and learned. Serene at all times, Louisa dispensed orders to her staff and instructions to me in one breath, and we hurried to do her bidding. By early afternoon the day of the party, all was in place. Louisa was resting and I was in my bedroom with my maid, debating which new dress to wear. Louisa had strongly suggested the rose gown, and in the end that was what I wore, with my mother's simple jewelry and a white rose from Louisa's garden tucked in my sash. Becca had left for Bath with Lawrence, the Pearsons, and her parents. Janice and Meg were both already gone from London, and Robert had not returned from France. I expected a lonely evening.

I noticed him the moment he stepped into view in the doorway of Louisa's ballroom. He was waiting to be announced, but I knew who he was immediately. I did not know his name, but surely this was the man Becca had talked about. He certainly fit the description she'd given and was as memorable as she'd hinted. He wore traditional Scottish Highland clothing while everyone else was dressed in the latest London style. Taller than most of the men in the room, he was simply groomed with no wig, his blond hair pulled into a queue at the nape of his neck. He wore a very white shirt under a muted green jacket that topped a plaided kilt. Over his shoulder was the rest of the plaid, fastened with a simple gold brooch. He was lean and graceful, his shoulders wide, his legs long, the muscles visible under dark socks below the kilt. The other men in the room suddenly seemed overdressed.

My interest heightened as the Earl of Kilgannon was announced and walked down the stairs. I watched as my aunt approached him with a welcoming smile, and I admired her easy grace. Louisa, the Countess Randolph, married to the Earl Randolph, was accustomed to greeting nobility, for she moved in titled circles. The Duchess, at her side as usual, also greeted the newcomer warmly. Behind me I could hear the murmuring of two men who were not pleased that a "damned Scot" was among us. I recognized the voices and turned to find my suspicions confirmed: the men were the Whigs who had ignored me at the Duchess's party. I turned back to watch the Scotsman.

"Not only a Scot, but a Highlander," growled one of the Whigs. "He'll likely stab someone before the night is out. They have the manners of pigs. Barbarians. What is the matter with the Countess Randolph that she has him here? Damned inconsiderate."

His friend laughed. "I believe he's some sort of relative. She was married to a Scot, remember. She says he makes her laugh."

"So does my dog, but I don't invite him to dinner."

They continued, but I was only half-listening now, my attention focused on the blond man as he bowed over my aunt's hand and said something that had her laughing and playfully smacking his arm with her fan. Why had Louisa not mentioned him before? He was certainly more interesting than any man I'd seen in London. Well, at least more handsome. I lost sight of them as people moved between us, then I saw the Scot standing alone, scanning the room as though looking for someone. Our eyes met and he smiled. Without thinking, I smiled in return. He began to walk toward me, but Lady Wilmington stopped him, tilting her head and laying one fleshy hand on his arm. He looked at her hand, then at me, and then smiled at her. Will said something to me then and I gave him my attention. When he and Betty left me a few moments later to dance, I turned to look again for the stranger. And found him standing in front of me.

My eye level was at his collarbone, and I looked at his silver buttons and lace collar before I met his gaze, aware of the curious stares directed our way. I tried in vain to control the flush that stole into my cheeks and wondered if I was now the same color as my gown. His hair was a golden blond, thick and shining. Prominent cheekbones and jawline and a straight nose complemented a well-defined mouth. His eyes, surrounded by dark lashes, were a midsummer's sky blue, his expression pleasant as he spoke.

"Miss Lowell? I am Alexander MacGannon of Kilgannon. Yer aunt suggested I make yer acquaintance." His accent was noticeable, his tone light. He did not sound like a madman. I offered my hand and he bowed over it. As he straightened, a lock of his hair slipped out of the band that held it and framed his face, and I had the ridiculous urge to brush it away from his cheek. I pulled back from him more strongly than I had intended. He brushed his hair back while he looked at me intently, but something had flickered in his eyes and I knew he had seen me flinch.

"It is customary, Kilgannon, to have a third person introduce you," laughed the Duchess, suddenly at his side. The small plump woman looked up at him affectionately.

"It is also less direct than I wish to be, Your Grace," he answered, bowing to her. "But I bow to yer wishes in all things."

"In all things, sir, or just those you wish to?"

I was astonished. The Duchess was flirting with a Scotsman? I studied him as they bantered, pretending as I waited for them to finish that I was not noticing every detail about him. At last the Duchess turned to me. "My dear Mary, may I present Alexander MacGannon, the tenth Earl of Kilgannon. Kilgannon, Miss Mary Lowell. Two years ago in France, Mary, the Duke made the Earl's acquaintance. My husband reports that the Earl was charming and deadly." She placed a small jeweled hand on his arm and smiled up into his face. "Such an interesting combination."

The Earl laughed. "Aye, madam, we Scots are always charming and deadly. When we're not acting like savages."

"Oh, Kilgannon," she twittered, "take Miss Lowell for a walk." She smiled at me. "He's currently unmarried, dear." I felt my cheeks flame again as she waddled away, but before either of us could speak, one of the Whigs was at my elbow, staring aggressively at Lord Kilgannon. The man spoke abruptly.

"Kirkgannon, is it? What do you think of the Union?" "Kilgannon, sir." Kilgannon bowed stiffly and spoke coldly. "I think it's the law now. Has been for several years, I believe."

"So you Scots will obey the law this time?"

"As always, sir. If ye will excuse us now, Miss Lowell has expressed her wishes for a bit of fresh air." I made no protest as Kilgannon took my hand and pulled it through his arm. He led me silently to the opposite side of the ballroom and out onto the porch, ignoring all the eyes watching us. Outside, he released my hand with a sigh and leaned against the stone railing. The night was gentle, the moon a crescent in the black sky. A slight breeze ruffled our hair and brought the scent of roses as I watched him by the light of the lamps beside the door. He glanced over his shoulder at the darkness before turning to look at me.

"I'm sorry, lass. I dinna mean to drag ye off. I was afraid I'd say something unforgivable and yer aunt would ban me from her house. And ..." He turned and looked out over the gardens, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I'm sorry if I was too direct. I just thought it was the simplest way to meet ye." I looked at his profile and tried to think of an answer. When I did not respond, he shot me a sharp glance. "Are ye angry? Shall I leave?"

I looked at him for a long moment before answering, then smiled. Anger was not what I was feeling. "Am I angry that you wanted to meet me, sir?" I asked. "Or am I angry that you refused to be drawn into an argument with a boor? Or am I angry that you flirted outrageously with my aunt and the Duchess? Or am I angry that a Scotsman would attend a party like this when we all know you're likely to burn London down at any moment?"

He turned to me, surprised at first, and then, reading my expression, he started chuckling. "Yer a one. All right, which is it?" His smile played around the corners of his mouth.

"I'm deciding. Hmmm. I'm not angry you wanted to meet me."

"And?"

"And I'm not angry that you wouldn't argue politics. And I'm not angry that you would attend this party, assuming, of course, that you were invited."

"I was. And?"

"And I am outraged that you flirted with my aunt Louisa and the Duchess."

He laughed out loud and turned back to the garden. "Yer aunt said ye were bright as well as beautiful."

"My aunt always says I'm bright and beautiful, sir," I said. "In truth, I am neither."

"I disagree, Miss Lowell. She dinna say the half of it." He stole a look at me again, his expression softening. 'Thank ye for being kind to a stranger."

"My lord, it was easy to be kind to you." "Not my lord, lass. Just Alex."

"Not the Earl of..." I couldn't remember.

"Kilgannon. No. Alex. Alex MacGannon. Will ye remember

it?"

"Alex," I said, meeting his eyes.

"Here you are! We wondered where you'd wandered to." We turned to see the Duchess standing in the doorway with Will and Betty. She introduced everyone and turned to smile at me. "The Earl saw you at my party last week, Mary," she said, "and asked to meet you, but he left: before I could arrange it, so I am delighted that he has joined us tonight."

I watched Kilgannon watch me and Will assess him. "I see," I said. "The Earl was most direct."

The Duchess laughed. "And successful, it would appear."

Will raised his eyebrows and I said something about the weather, forestalling his protective reaction. We talked for a few moments, Will and Kilgannon polite, Betty pouting in the background. The Duchess interrupted when the topic shifted to politics. "No, no, not tonight, gentlemen," she said with a wave of her hand. "Come inside, the dancing is about to begin again." She led the way and we followed.

In the ballroom Betty was at Kilgannon's side at once. "Do you dance, sir?" she asked in her affected high little voice.

He nodded. "Aye, mistress, but not the minuet." "Oh," she said, and a moment later was swept off onto the dance floor by Will. I stood with Kilgannon and watched the dancers, very aware of him at my side, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't sound idiotic. Jonathan Wumple stopped before us, bowing, and I groaned silently. Jonathan, whom I had known forever, always asked me to dance. Tonight, however, he asked Kilgannon if I could dance. The Scot glanced at me.