The Untamed MacKenzie

The Honorable Gil was one of the most respected gentlemen in England. He would one day be an earl. Louisa had known him all her life, and they rubbed along well together. His friends were her friends. Gil and Louisa would, in fact, make the perfect couple.

So why did her heart beat too quickly as she caught a glimpse of Inspector Fellows again, her hands grow moist, and her feet long to thump to the floor and carry her away from both of them?

Louisa drew a sharp breath. “Gil—my dearest friend—I’m not sure I am strong enough to hear declarations tonight.”

Instantly Gil went solicitous. “Then I won’t make any. Not tonight. Don’t worry. I’m not the pestering sort. But I will sit here and make sure no one else pesters you.”

“Thank you. It’s good of you.”

“If you’d like to think so.”

Gil sat for a moment with her in silence, giving her time to master herself, then he started up with a conversation that had nothing to do with the two of them, Louisa’s predicament, or the poisoning.

He was nice, really. Kind. Generous. Warmhearted. Completely different from the man who came around the dancers in his kilt, a tailored coat stretched over his strong shoulders. He held a champagne glass in one hand, looking as though he didn’t know what to do with it, and walked beside Mac Mackenzie, paying half attention to whatever Mac was jabbering about.

Fellows saw Louisa and sent her a sharp look, then one to Gil. The look stabbed Louisa all the way through, and then the blow doubled as Fellows started to turn away again.

Mac, with seeming nonchalance, blocked Fellows’ escape. Fellows would either have to turn back to the divan or push Mac bodily aside to get around him. The look on Fellows’ face told Louisa he preferred to shove his way out, but at the last minute he let Mac chivvy him toward the divan and the two sitting there.

Gil rose to meet them. “Mac, how are you? Well met, Chief Inspector. Can you tell us how the case is going? If you’ve found the man responsible yet? Or are you allowed to say?”

Gil asked with sincere curiosity, and also with obvious concern for Louisa’s part in it. Mac’s expression said he showed the same concern. Only Fellows looked furious. He did not want to discuss the case at all, and Mac and Gil pushing him into it made him angry.

“It is all right, Chief Inspector,” Louisa said quickly. “You do not have to tell us. I understand that more gossip about it would not be good.”

If anything, Fellows looked even more angry. “There is very little to say. The investigation is ongoing. We are pursuing several leads.”

“Have you had any luck tracing the chap Louisa saw rolling out from under the tent?” Gil asked in all innocence.

“Not yet.”

“He’s the guilty one, must be.” Gil emphasized his words with little jerks of the hand that held his champagne glass.

“No doubt,” Fellows said, his tone dry.

“It might have been a woman,” Louisa broke in. “I couldn’t be certain, as I said.” She directed the words at Fellows, but he was watching Gil, assessing him. Possibly wondering how he’d look in handcuffs.

“No, a man,” Mac said, shaking his head. “I’ll wager it was a man in the tent. Stands to reason. A woman would be hampered by skirts and bustles and all the paraphernalia women seem to wear.”

Gil smiled. “I find the paraphernalia charming.”

“Entrancing,” Mac said, winking at Louisa. “I call it utterly entrancing.”

“An even better word,” Gil agreed.

Fellows looked annoyed. Louisa could see that at this moment, he didn’t find women or their paraphernalia charming or entrancing, or even remotely interesting. He was again stuck in a society party where he didn’t feel comfortable, coerced by his brothers and sisters-in-law to do what he didn’t want to do. A fish out of water, was the saying.

“It is good of you to help, Mr. Fellows,” Louisa said, to try to fill the break in conversation. “I am grateful.”

Fellows scowled at her. “It’s a murder, and it’s my job.” He clicked the champagne glass onto the tray of a passing waiter and made a little bow. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Louisa.”

He walked away without further word, and this time, Mac didn’t try to stop him.

Chapter Ten

The pain in Louisa’s ankle became nothing to the pain in her heart as she watched Inspector Fellows fade back into the crowd, finished with her. Ladies and gentlemen parted for his broad frame, looking after him with curiosity. Louisa felt suddenly hollow, as though something important had just been lost to her.

“I beg your pardon, Louisa,” she heard Gil saying, as though from a long way off. “And Mac. I think I’ve gone and put my foot in it.”

Louisa turned back to him. “No, no. He’s—”

“Bloody rude sometimes,” Mac finished. “He’s a Mackenzie. No need to apologize, Franklin, or for you to make excuses for him, Louisa. El and Isabella coaxed Fellows into coming tonight, and he didn’t want to. He’s busy. I don’t blame him for being out of sorts.”

“I shouldn’t have needled him about the case,” Gil said. “I admit I’m dashed curious, though, having been at the party myself. As well as being anxious for Louisa.”

For heaven’s sake. Men could excuse each other over the worst offenses when they wanted to—oh, he didn’t mean to overturn the entire dining table and swing out of the room on the chandelier; he was out of sorts because he lost ten guineas at cards, poor fellow.