Page 26 of The Devil Wears Kilts
“Charlotte?”
At the sound of her father’s voice she stopped pacing and left the library. “Up here, Papa,” she called, leaning over the banister and thankful for the distraction, whatever it was.
He looked up from the foyer. “Meet me in my office, will you, darling?”
“Certainly.”
She arrived before he did, and wandered to the window overlooking the carriage drive. The sky had gone gray with the afternoon; they would be lucky if it didn’t begin raining before they arrived at the Evanstone ball. There was nothing worse than trying to walk through mud and horse excrement in dancing slippers.
“Where are the girls?” Lord Hest asked, walking into the small office and closing the door behind him. His nose and ears were red from being out in the wind; even if she hadn’t seen the string of fish in his hand earlier, she would have known what he’d been up to.
“Trying on gowns for tonight. The excitement is positively making my teeth ache.”
He chuckled. “Ah, you were insufferable once, too. I remember it well.”
“Perhaps, but there are two of them.”
“Too true.” Sobering, he gestured her to take one of the pair of seats facing his desk. “I heard about a row today, in Hyde Park.”
Oh, dear.“It wasn’t a row, precisely. Lord Glengask and Lord Berling caught sight of each other and had words. Nothing came of it.”
“That’s something, anyway,” he returned, looking relieved. “From the way Kenney explained it, I thought they’d been at it with broadswords.”
“No. I do recommend that we never invite the two of them to the same dinner party, however.”
Her father looked at her for a moment. “What was it about? Do you know?”
“Well, evidently Lord Glengask has refused to graze sheep on his lands, and is instead building schoolhouses. And Lord Berling didn’t like that. According to rumor Berling or one of his men shot one of Winnie’s brothers in the shoulder, and then the last time they encountered each other in Scotland, Glengask broke Berling’s nose.” She frowned at that. It was all so stupid, and so senseless. Why couldn’t men simply sit down and discuss things?
“So Glengask doesn’t like Englishmenorhis fellow Scots, eh?”
She sighed. “Apparently not. I told him that he needed to make a better attempt to behave, but he didn’t take that well.”
The earl’s lips twitched. “You told him what?”
“Yes, it was stupid, but after two hours of blasted England this and damned English that, I’d had enough.” And that was as much of the story as she would ever tell him. Because no one at all was ever allowed to know that Ranulf had kissed her. Or that she’d kissed him back.
“Yes, I’m already taking a ribbing from some of the fellows at the Society Club over having a Highlander lurking about. I have to admit, I’ll be somewhat relieved when this fortnight is over.”
Charlotte frowned. Ranulf hadn’t precisely said he would allow Winnie to remain longer, but he had hinted at it. Of course that had been before she and he had argued. “Don’t plan a farewell dinner yet, Papa,” she said anyway. Lord Hest should know what was afoot in his own household.
“What?” His frown likely matched hers. “What happened?”
She shrugged. “He adores his sister, and she wants to stay.”
“Well.” Slowly the earl blew out his breath. “Then I suppose we’ll make do. I have to admit, your mother couldn’t be more pleased. Having two young things to introduce about is her idea of paradise. I just wish they were both English.”
That was precisely the sort of thing Ranulf likely thought people said behind his back at every opportunity, so she refrained from agreeing, instead offering her father another smile. “Don’t forget to save a dance for me tonight, Papa,” she said, standing and giving a twirl.
“Oh, good God. It’s the Evanstone to-do, isn’t it? Is Glengask attending?”
“He said he was. Why?”
“Just that Evanstone’s grandfather helped put down the Jacobite uprising at Culloden.”
“Oh. That should go over well. I’ll inform Lord Glengask at the first opportunity not to mention Bonnie Prince Charlie.” She scowled again, only half jesting. “Or perhaps I simply won’t mention it at all.”
“That might be best.”
