Return to main book page

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 immediately who he was. 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 which 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. 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

ISBN: 0446610453

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: they were Whigs I'd been ignored by at the Duchess's party.

I turned back to watch the Scotsman, who 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 hen 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 towards 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, but 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 complimented 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 my 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 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 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. He 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 you 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, started chuckling. "Ye're 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."