The Untamed MacKenzie

Fellows had broken the kiss and abruptly walked away, and Louisa couldn’t blame him for that. He was trying to investigate a murder, and she should let him get on with his job. Their mouths falling together every time they were alone had to cease. They needed to be comfortable with each other, friends.

Friends. The word sounded so empty.

The landau halted in the street, a little way from the assembly rooms, inching forward with the line of carriages depositing guests at the door. So many carriages, so many people.

As they at last reached the entrance, and a footman snapped open the door, realization struck Louisa with an ice-cold slap. Eleanor had sent Louisa to go among those from the garden party and ask questions because she wanted Louisa to report directly to Fellows herself. It would stand to reason, El would explain in all innocence. Louisa had asked the questions; she would best know how to relate the answers.

The glint in Eleanor’s eye, her secret smile, her decision to leave Louisa and Fellows alone in the sitting room this afternoon . . . Louisa wanted to groan with dismay. Eleanor was a romantic—the only explanation for how she’d remained in love with Hart all these years. Now she was inventing a romance for Louisa.

Louisa hid her disquiet under a sunny smile for Hart, who held out his arm to her. Hart shot her a look of grave suspicion then schooled his expression to a neutral one and led her inside.

Chapter Eight

“Lord and Lady Ian Mackenzie,” the majordomo announced. “The Duke of Kilmorgan, Lady Louisa Scranton.”

The assembly rooms, giant spaces with tall, arched ceilings and wide chandeliers that dripped with crystal facets, already teemed with people. The ladies glittered under the light—diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires flashing rainbow colors on gowns of equally rainbow shades. Gentlemen and lords in white ties and flowing black coats moved among their ladies.

Everyone within hearing range of the majordomo’s booming voice turned to watch the duke and his party arrive. Any other night, Lord Ian and his nobody wife, Beth, might have been the object of scrutiny. Tonight, all eyes focused on Louisa.

The weight of their stares fell on her. The looks ranged from pure curiosity to sordid interest to outright disgust and disapproval. Here was a young woman who probably had poisoned the Bishop of Hargate, and she arrived bold as you please on the arm of the lofty Duke of Kilmorgan. Yes, he was her sister’s brother-in-law, but she was using him to shield her, wasn’t she? A proper young woman, who was an unmarried miss no less, should stay home and show the shame she ought.

The stares followed Louisa, in a pause that would have been awkward had not an orchestra already been playing to entertain the arrivals. Louisa’s pretty heeled slippers now seemed too tight, her dress too garish. Hart’s solid arm was the only thing that kept her upright as they moved to the receiving line.

Hart, not oblivious to the scrutiny, leaned to her and spoke in a low voice. “Face them down and to hell with them.”

Hart straightened up again, saying nothing more, but Louisa felt a little better. She drew a breath, rearranged her expression, and smiled warmly at a knot of young ladies who stared openly at her.

Hart was right, as usual. Louisa could do this. After all, she hadn’t killed Hargate, and she had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Good girl,” Hart said. He gave her arm a pat with his strong hand.

They reached their host and hostess, Mac and Isabella, who stood at the top of the long line of guests. Isabella’s dark blue satin ball gown was elegance itself, but she was careful not to outshine the other women present. Her role as hostess was to make the ladies of the ton feel welcome and special, not belittled, and Isabella took that role very seriously.

She gathered Louisa into a hug and kissed her cheek before she grasped Hart’s hands and kissed him as well. Isabella didn’t seem surprised in the least that Eleanor had not come with them. Louisa frowned at her, but Isabella turned away to greet Beth and Ian before Louisa could say a word.

“I’m glad you braved it.” Mac squeezed Louisa’s hands in his large ones before he kissed her cheek. “Remember, Louisa, we are always here to catch you.”

They were, especially Mac. Mac had been the one who’d pulled Isabella and Louisa’s family out of the fire when Earl Scranton’s fraud had been found out. If not for Mac and his machinations, Louisa’s family would never have survived.

“Thank you, Mac,” Louisa said, heartfelt.

Hart turned Louisa loose once they’d finished the greetings, he and Ian making straight for the gaming rooms. Beth took Louisa’s arm, and the two ladies headed for the withdrawing rooms to straighten gowns and repin hair.

This night should be the same as any other since Louisa’s come out. Louisa knew as many people as Isabella did, and even her father’s behavior hadn’t lost Louisa her friends. Money ebbed and flowed, Louisa hadn’t been to blame, it was vulgar to worry about finances anyway, and a good marriage could put everything right for her again. Louisa knew half the girls in London and was close friends with half of those—had been their bridesmaids, held their first children, gossiped with them, shared their memories of growing up in privileged Mayfair and country estates.

Louisa was not as well acquainted with the ladies who happened to be in the withdrawing rooms, but though they stared, they softened under Beth’s friendly smile—most people did. Louisa began to relax. As long as everyone was polite, the ball would be fine.

Louisa left for the main assembly rooms with Beth and quickly spied a knot of her friends. They were watching her, none of them making any pretense about staring at her and murmuring to each other. Louisa felt suddenly chilled.