“I’ve never seen such a beautiful gown in all my days,” said Lena as she fastened the back of Janet’s bodice, the last piece of eight layers…or was it nine?
Janet smoothed her hands down the gold silk. “I cannot say I have, either, unless a painting of Queen Anne counts.”
“It does not.”
The ivory virago sleeves alone were a work of art. In two pieces, they puffed at the shoulder and gathered above the elbow and again at the forearm. The top piece had been slashed vertically to allow the gold to shine through beneath. The ivory silk tapered off at the elbow, with the gold extending to three quarters. But her favorite part of the gown was the peplum skirt made voluminous by rows of gossamer ruffles, muted slightly by a short overskirt of satin in the same ivory as the upper sleeves.
Facing the looking glass, Janet ran the tips of her fingers over the delicate lace around her plunging neckline, so low it scarcely covered her nipples. “I feel a wee bit bare. Perhaps you should tuck in a modesty panel.”
“Absolutely not,” Auntie Dallis insisted as she flung the door wide, carrying a velvet box. Her ladyship wore a lavender gown, her flamboyant tresses piled even higher than Janet’s curls and adorned with at least five purple ostrich feathers. “Now, let me have a look.”
Janet covered her cleavage with both hands. “We still have the hat to pin in place.” Though the collection of silk roses and feathers was more of an embellishment than a hat.
Her Ladyship stamped her foot. “Never mind the hat. I want to see this masterpiece!”
Releasing a long exhalation, Janet opened her arms and turned. “What do you think?”
“Oh, my heavens, you are stunning. I do not believe I’ve ever beheld a gown so lovely or a lass so bonny. What say you, Lena?”
“Aye, m’lady. I was just telling Miss Janet the very same.”
Auntie Dallis pattered forward like a clucky hen. “Show us a minuet, dearest. I want to see how well the skirt holds up to vigorous movement.”
“Subdued movement, I say. Minuets are stately and sloooow.” Janet complied, pretending she had a partner, stepping and executing a turn with grace and precision, just as her dance master had drilled into her since the age of ten.
“Lena, retie the bodice. It needs to be tighter.” Her Ladyship pointed. “See? There’s a bit of a buckle on the right.”
“Straightaway.”
Janet moved to her place in front of the looking glass and placed her palms firmly on her waist. “I’m already laced so tight I can hardly breathe.”
“Not to worry.” Auntie Dallis snorted, making every inch of her person jiggle. “If you swoon, a dashing gentleman will hasten to your aid, and that’s what we want, is it not?”
If the gentleman happens to be the chieftain of Clan Grant. “I certainly hope that will not happen.” Janet flashed an appropriate smile, though thinking about how dreamy it would be to swoon into Robert’s arms and have him whisk her away—yet she knew her brother, her uncle, and even Auntie Dallis would muster an army before they’d allow her braw hero to kiss her hand in public, let alone ride off to the land of Happily Ever After with her in his arms.
“Pin the hat, Lena, and then I have a surprise.”
Janet had learned not to relish the anticipation of her aunt’s surprises. Once her hat was pinned in place, she was ready—wrapped in lace, silk, gossamer, and feathers to prance before Scotland’s noblest in the hopes of catching a suitor’s eye. Saints preserve me.
Grinning, Auntie opened a velvet box and pulled out a string of pearls holding a gold locket engraved with the profile of a beautiful lady. She opened it to reveal a miniature of the profile of a young woman. “This was my mother’s, and since the Lord did not bless me with a daughter, it will go to you when I pass.”
“And the miniature, is it you?”
“Aye.”
With a gasp, Janet ran her finger around the circumference of the frame. “Heavens, ’tis exquisite.”
Her Ladyship held it up. “And I would like you to wear it this night.”
“I am honored.” Janet turned to allow her aunt to fasten the necklace.
“Always remember you are the descendant of an ancient clan, a clan that has nurtured the land and fought to hold our place in the kingdom. You will make a fine wife, and you are bonny enough to marry a king.”
“You will make me vain with your flattery.”
“A wee bit of flattery never hurt a soul.”
Janet grasped her maid’s hands. “What say you, Lena? Am I ready for the ball?”
The lass smiled. “I do not see how you could be more so.”
“Then we must go.” Auntie gestured for Janet to proceed, and together they descended the stairs. By the time they arrived at the bottom, Uncle Broden and Kennan were waiting in the entry, both wearing formal attire—velvet doublets with gold trim and kilts in the Highland style, plaids secured at their shoulders with their clan brooches.
“God save us,” Kennan said, gaping at Janet’s bosom.
She threw a panicked grimace at her aunt. “See, perhaps I do need a modesty panel.”
“You most certainly do not. Kennan, stop your gawking.”
Flustered, he shook his head. “Where’s the blue gown I brought from Edinburgh?”
“The one I wore to Samhain?” Janet asked.
“Aye.”
“It was ruined after I fell down a cliff and tore it, escaping with a broken arm and, thankfully, my life. Sorry to disappoint.”
“You look ravishing,” said Sir Broden.
“See, that’s what I’m afraid of,” said Kennan, offering his elbow. “Honestly, Sister, you are too bonny to behold. Every gentleman will be slavering to dance with you, and they’ll be thinking about doing a whole lot more than dancing.”
“A lass as bonny as our Janet is not about to find the suitor of her dreams wearing a smock,” chided Her Ladyship. “Now stop your critiquing and lead the way to the coach.”
Janet teetered and nearly swooned into her brother. What would she do if some unfortunate gentleman did fancy her? Someone other than the one man she wanted?
* * *
Wearing their Jacobite garters and holding glasses of champagne, Robert stood beside Ciar, doing his best to appear genteel, though the starch in his new neckcloth was enough to make him wish for the Highlands and a simple life in a bothy…with Miss Janet disrobed and bathing. The two men chatted while the guests proceeded through the welcoming line. Young MacDougall leaned in and cupped his hand over his mouth. “The king is in line beside the duke. I’m surprised to see him greeting the guests.”
Robert raised his glass high enough to conceal his lips. “Aye, but he looks like French nobility and sounds like one, too, especially since he’s being introduced with the newly created title of the Duke of Touraine.”
“What did you expect? His father was forced into exile when he was a bairn. Doubtless he sounds French. But he’s a Stuart king, of the pure royal line, we mustn’t forget.”
“Thank the good Lord for small mercies.”
As the words left Robert’s lips, the steward boomed, “Sir Broden, Knight of the Order of the Thistle and his wife, Lady MacLean, their nephew, Kennan Cameron, heir to the Lochiel chieftainship, and their niece, Miss Janet Cameron of Lochiel.”
“Interesting the steward added the heir part. Is that new protocol?” asked Ciar.
“I doubt it.” Robert leaned to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Janet. “The added information is for the edification of Gordon’s esteemed guest.”
“Oh aye.”
On the arm of her brother, the object of Robert’s affection moved into the hall. Truth be told, the woman all but floated. In that moment, the crowd disappeared into oblivion while he beheld the most absorbing vision he’d ever seen. Janet Cameron had always been bonny, but tonight she looked more radiant than a sunset, more stunning than a queen, and more precious than a diamond.
“Careful there, Grant.” MacDougall nudged him. “You’d best collect your chin from the floor afore someone treads on it.”
Straightening, Robert gave his friend a leer and guzzled the dregs of his champagne. “If anyone dares look twice at her, I’ll invite him out back and give him a royal hiding.”
“Royal is right. It seems the Duke of Touraine has already taken a fancy to her.” Ciar inclined his head toward the king, who was plying Janet’s hand with a languid kiss, then clutching her fingers over his heart, the devil.
“Ballocks and bloody pig’s sweat,” Robert spat under his breath. “The man is married.”
“He is, though it seems the higher up in the aristocracy a man climbs, the freer he is with his—ah—sword.”
“You are baiting me, ye bastard.” Damnation, his jaw began twitching.
“Perhaps, but I do not believe I’ve had more fun than I have watching your face in the past half minute.”
Robert pulled Ciar behind one of the ballroom’s enormous pillars. “I’m more worried about Janet’s brother interfering than I am about His Grace—we all ken the Duke of Touraine has more important affairs to attend to this night. But I have a plan: Cameron cannot stay away from the cards—I need you to keep him in his cups and at the tables in the card room whilst I—”
“Dance all evening with the bonniest lass at the ball?” Ciar shoved Robert’s shoulder. “I reckon a host of other gentlemen will want to dance with Miss Janet, including myself.”
Robert took a backward step, barely believing his ears. “What are you saying? Are you smitten with her?”
“Of course not.”
“Why are you not?”
“I just may be fishing in someone else’s loch.”
“You dog, a woman is pregnant by you?”
“Of course not. Good God, when it comes to riddles, you have no imagination. If you must know, I have my sights on someone else.”
“Whom?” Robert demanded.
“Ah…I-I’m not prepared to discuss the matter as yet. I’m still at large, if you will.” Ciar glanced aside and ran his hand over his hair. “So, as you were saying, you desire for me to deter Kennan for a time, aye?”
“All bloody night if you can. I’ll be in your debt.”
“And believe me, I may have cause to call upon it someday soon.”
After Ciar left to find more champagne and chat with Kennan, Robert mingled on the fringes of the crowd, keeping his distance from Janet and her kin, but watching her out of the corner of his eye. Not long after, the first dance was announced.
It was no surprise that the guest of honor chose Miss Cameron for his partner and led her to the floor. Robert’s jaw continued to twitch as he folded his arms. Patience, the evening has only begun.
As a minuet began, Sir Broden bowed to his wife across the aisle in the women’s queue. Leading the dance at the head of the two lines were the Duke of Gordon and his wife. With raven hair and skin like amber, the woman was a beauty in her own right. They looked happy dancing together, exchanging intimate touches—a sly glance here, a wee smile there. Robert longed to know that kind of love someday, though he could hardly admit the fact to himself, let alone anyone else. If he couldn’t find a way to lure Janet away from her family, there might be no hope for him ever to find happiness.
Down the hall, Ciar and Kennan were laughing like the old friends they were. So many of his allies held forth about the Cameron heir’s strength of character, but Robert didn’t see it. He moved toward them, stopping behind a pillar where he could eavesdrop.
“I hear the duke is serving his finest whisky in the card room,” Ciar said, bless him.
“Aye?” Kennan asked. “Gordon spirit is the best in Christendom if you ask me. We’ll need to slip inside and sample a dram or two. Though after Samhain last October, I’m inclined to keep better watch over my sister.”
“She looks bonny tonight for certain, but I’d reckon your auntie will ensure she stays out of mischief. Her Ladyship told me she already has a host of potential suitors lined up to dance with Miss Janet.”
“That she does. In the coach ride here, Auntie recited the name of every available gentleman within fifty miles…Come, then. The whisky’s calling our names; besides, I hate dancing.”
Robert chuckled to himself as he plucked another glass of champagne from a passing steward’s tray. Kennan Cameron was well known for his prowess with a blade and his aptitude as a ship’s master, but every lass north of Fort William could protest sore toes from his clumsy dancing.
Robert’s gaze meandered back to the dancers and stopped when met with a wide and enticing blue-eyes. Her white teeth slowly scraped her bottom lip, and his loins stirred to life.
The dance demanded a glissade to the right and she stutter-stepped—it was the first time he’d seen her misstep when dancing, and it made him grin. To hell with the king. Miss Janet’s attentions were elsewhere. Robert didn’t give a rat’s arse about Her Ladyship’s list of potential suitors, he intended to dominate the bonny lass’s time.
To his chagrin, Lord Hamilton—a bloody royalist—claimed Janet for the next dance. The lass curtsied politely before casting a forlorn glance Robert’s way. He gave her a wee shrug while Auntie Dallis returned his gesture with an evil eye, blast her meddling.
It wasn’t until the musicians took their first recess that Robert found an opportunity to pull the lass aside. “Quickly, let us adjourn to the terrace whilst your aunt is engaged in conversation with His Grace.”
Giggling, Janet latched on to his arm and grasped her skirts with one hand for a hasty retreat. “She has been suffocating and incorrigible all evening.”
“And it has only begun.” He opened one of the French doors, glancing over his shoulder to ensure they were unseen. Fortunately, the guests were either crowded around Gordon and the king or heading for refreshments. Ciar and Kennan were nowhere in sight, thanks to cards and whisky.
Outside, the night was clear, and more than one couple had opted to enjoy the pleasant temperature—this time of year, the days were exceedingly long, and the grounds of the manse were shadowed in impending dusk. Improvising, Robert led Janet down the steps and out to the maze of hedges. By the time they were completely alone, they were running and laughing. His heart soared as he pulled her into his arms. “Och, it has pained me to watch those overdressed peacocks dancing with you.”
She rose up and kissed him, her hands sliding up his back. “Does it give you respite to ken I loathed dancing with each one of them?”
“Even the Duke of Touraine?”
“Especially the Duke of Touraine.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s not you, and I truly wanted you to be my first dance partner.”
“You have no idea how much your words warm my heart.” Cupping her cheek, he kissed her. “Och, you are the bonniest woman at the ball. You are the bonniest woman I’ve ever seen in all my days, and in the past nine months I have not taken a breath without thinking of you.”
“Oh, Robert, I have not been able to stop dreaming of you, either.”
“I cannot tell you how much your words warm my heart.” He plied her forehead with a tender kiss. “Dearest Janet, I have decided to court you properly.” As long as he was improvising, he might as well dive in headfirst. He’d intended to speak to her father man-to-man when he came to Glenmoriston, but he’d not controlled the situation as he should have. Nay, Robert had allowed old feuds and posturing to mar his judgment, and he’d stood there like a wounded stag watching Janet’s father take her away.
“But how can you?” she asked. “My brother—my aunt and uncle for that matter—will not agree, and we cannot forget the wrath of my father.”
“I let them stand in my way afore, but never again. I love you. I loved you when I first saw you in the Inverlochy stables. I loved you when I danced across from you at the Samhain ceilidh. You ripped my heart from my very chest when you plummeted down that hill. Ever since I have been a slave to my love for you, and I give you my solemn oath, I will let no man tell me I am not worthy of your love.”
“Of course you are worthy; if anything it is I who am not worthy. It is my family standing between us.” Clasping his cheeks between her palms, she rose on her toes and kissed him. “Take me away from here right now. I will go to the ends of the earth with you.”
“As much as I want to, I shall not. The man who runs from his adversaries is a coward. I have my clan to protect and provide for.”
“And Emma.”
“Especially Emma.” He took her hand between his and held it over his heart. “Our charade ends tonight, and I aim to begin by having a word with your Auntie Dallis.”
“Oh, goodness, you might have more luck facing Uncle Broden. At least he’s not as fanatical as Her Ladyship.”
“That’s why I will start with her. Once I win her favor, then I’m sure to win your uncles’s.”
“You are braver than I am. But if you’re bent on this, we’d best return to the hall. I imagine we’ve already been missing long enough for Auntie Dallis to work up to one of her spells.”
“Does she have spells often?”
“Daily.”
And Janet wasn’t far off the mark. When Robert opened the French door, Her Ladyship was hastening toward them with Sir Broden in her wake. “Where have you been?” she shouted in a heated whisper.
Hmm. Clearly the woman knew better than to make a scene in front of Scotland’s gentry and spoil her niece’s chances at landing a worthy catch. Robert smiled and bowed deeper than necessary. “M’lady, you are just the person I am looking for.” He walked inside, leading the party to an unoccupied antechamber off the main room. “Lady MacLean, I must say how bonny you look this night. Lavender suits you.”
“Oh…” She patted her hair and chuckled. “Thank you, though we mustn’t skirt the issue. Grant, your behavior—”
“Forgive me. You are right. I was brash in stepping just beyond the doors so as to have a brief word with Miss Janet. You have my oath it will not happen again.”
Her Ladyship smacked his shoulder with her fan. “That is right, it will never happen again, because I will not—”
“In the future, I will seek your approval ahead of time…” No matter how much he wanted to relieve the woman of her fan, Robert remained composed. “Because I fully intend to see Miss Janet often.”
“But you—”
“Aye, and I intend to stay in Glasgow and prove to you that I am willing to cast all my differences with Clan Cameron aside and start anew, if you will.”
Her Ladyship whipped around to her husband. “Broden, you must do something!”
Robert grasped Her Ladyship’s hand and plied it with a polite kiss. “It is most excellent to make your acquaintance, Lady MacLean. I do hope we can become staunch allies.” He bowed to Sir Broden. “And you, sir, I am your indebted servant. Please do not hesitate to call upon me as you see fit.”
The knight bowed. “Grant, would you be prepared to sign a writ declaring your change of heart toward Clan Cameron and her allies?”
“That is a wonderful idea. When can you have papers drawn?”
Sir Broden stuttered, looking a bit flustered. “I’ll need have a word with my advocate first.”
“Of course.” Robert bowed again. “With that settled, please allow me the honor of dancing with Miss Janet for the duration of the evening.”
Her Ladyship vehemently shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
“The next set then?”
Janet stepped beside Robert, clasping her hands. “Please, Auntie. I want to dance with him.”
“Go on, let her have her fun,” said Sir Broden.
Auntie Dallis again wielded her fan, smacking her husband’s arm as if he were a traitor. “Broden!”
The man gave her a frown, and Robert could have sworn he heard him growl. “Grant is a well-established and propertied member of the gentry. Half the fops you have lined up to dance with our poor niece may have titles, but they are paupers. This Highlander has made clear his intentions and, more importantly, has cast aside his animosity and centuries-long blood feud with our kin. I reckon he’s entitled to a few turns on the ballroom floor.”
Robert thrust out his hand. “I say, sir. You are a good man.”
Sir Broden glanced toward his wife, his face flushed. “At least someone thinks so.”
* * *
The next set passed in a blur. The fever in Robert’s every touch, the intensity in his glances made Janet feel as if she were floating on a cloud. Being so close to him, yet unable to wrap her arms around him, to hold him, caress him, and say how much she’d admired him as he boldly faced her kin, was like sitting before a sugared plum yet being unable to eat it.
Nonetheless, Janet was in heaven. Topping off her euphoria was that Uncle Broden had finally shown Her Ladyship her place. It was a story to go down in history.
When the musicians stopped for their second recess, the hall grew oddly silent. Kennan staggered from the card room, his hair disheveled, his eyes droopy.
“Grant. There are a great many lassies in attendance. Why must ye tarry wi’ me sistah?” Kennan garbled.
Ciar draped his arm over her brother’s shoulders. “Pay no mind to him. He’s tipped the bottle back a few too many times.”
Robert tugged Janet behind him. “Ciar and Kennan, dear friends. I’m certain His Grace’s honored guest, the Duke of Touraine, will be interested to see how well we put old clan feuds behind us.”
“Ol’?” Kennan’s face grew red. “Wha’ the blazes are ye yammerin’ abou’…?”
Robert shook hands with Ciar. “Ye see? This man I call my friend. You do as well, do you not, Cameron?”
“Aye.”
“As I told your uncle earlier this eve, I say the same to you: From this day forward, I am forgiving and forgetting all past feuds between our clans.” He extended his palm toward Janet’s brother. “Will you shake hands with me, friend?”
Janet pressed praying fingers to her lips. Please take it, Kennan, please.
Her brother eyed the man who’d just pledged his love for her. “Is this one of yer tricks?”
Robert spread his arms to his sides. “In front of our betters? And before so many members of Scotland’s gentry?”
Appearing to sober a bit, Kennan gave a cautious nod. “I will take your hand, and this had best not be a ploy to woo my sister under your spell.”
Janet released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as the two men joined hands. Robert stepped in and whispered something in Kennan’s ear—something that made her brother’s eyes pop. For a moment she thought Kennan might take a swing, but Ciar pulled him away. “Come, I reckon ’tis time to switch to a beverage less potent.”
As they headed back to the card room, Auntie Dallis stepped in and insisted she had experienced one of her spells and thus decided it was time to take Miss Janet home.