Page 111 of A Rogue in Firelight
“Truly? We suspect he plans to move illicit goods through the Highlands, which he arranged while he has been up here at our expense and hospitality.”
“Is that all? He is preparing to send whisky to Edinburgh for the king. Papa requested it. That is hardly smuggling.”
“I fear you have been naïve and easily led. Thank God I can look after you now.”
“What you can do is go back to the city and tell Papa that Lord Darrach can be presented, so you both can earn whatever accolade you expect. Just remember that you owe your success to Ronan, Lord Darrach. His title makes this process so much easier for you. Am I correct in assuming Papa gave you no message for me? Then we are done here.”
“Sir Hector will be greatly disappointed in you.”
“That is not surprising. I would like to go back to the party.” She turned.
“One more question.” He took her gloved forearm in a tight grip so that she could not step away. “Have you gone entirely mad, Ellison?”
Dumbstruck, she pulled against his hand. “What do you mean?”
“I heard you are engaged to MacGregor now. What possessed you? Come this way. We might be interrupted here.” He dragged her toward the French doors that led to the terraced gardens.
Hearing his name,Ronan looked around to see Lady Strathniven waving. She stood with a smaller, younger version of herself, clearly her sister, as Sorcha stood with them. Then Ellison would be nearby; he had been looking for her ever since he entered.
“Darrach! Let me introduce my sister, Mrs. Beaton,” she said. “Viscount Darrach is our guest at Strathniven.”
“Madam, good to meet you. Thank you for the invitation. And Miss Beaton, good to see you again.” He smiled as Sorcha returned a sweet, happy grin.
“Look over there, sir,” Lady Strathniven said, pointing. “That is the Earl of Huntly and his lady, and just there is the Duke of Atholl. There are so many I would like you to meet. They will welcome a newly inherited peer.” She looked proud as a peacock. “Your cousin, Sir Evan MacGregor, and his wife could not attend, as they have already gone to Edinburgh.”
Ronan nodded, feeling a surge of relief. He did not relish that reunion.
Lady Strathniven pointed out guests to him, rattling off names, many familiar. Some he had encountered in the Scottish parliament; others had recognizable names and titles, including clan chiefs—MacDonald, Stewart, MacIntosh, Fraser, and more. As the fiddle music soared and chatter filled the room like the roar of the sea, he looked for Ellison and did not see her.
“An excellent turnout, Mrs. Beaton. You must be pleased,” he said.
“We are fortunate, my lord, that many were in the Highlands for the summer and had not yet left for the festivities in Edinburgh. You will go south as well, I think?”
“I will, madam. May I ask if any of you have seen Miss Graham?”
“She went with Cousin Adam to look at the library,” Sorcha said. “You know her penchant for books.”
“Aye. Thank you. I have—a message for her.” He turned just as Lady Strathniven tapped his arm with her fan.
“Someone you must meet, Darrach. Sir Neill Pitlinnie. He is the one who gifts us with a supply of his whisky.”
“Ah.” Glancing that way, he saw Neill Pitlinnie in deep conversation with a Highland man he did not recognize. “He makes excellent whisky. Give him my compliments.”
“He is a friend of my nephew Adam as well,” Lady Strathniven went on. “They met in the Edinburgh High School. Boyhood friends, you see. So we are treated to a supply of whisky. Sir Neill is very good to us.”
“Is he,” Ronan murmured.
“Sissy dear, the dancing will begin formally soon,” Mrs. Beaton told her sister. “The principals will dance first. The highest ranking, you know,” she clarified for Ronan.
“That would be the Duke of Atholl and his lady, and the Duke and Duchess of Gordon, whom we are very pleased are here,” Lady Strathniven said.
“You may dance too, Sissy, as hostess. We will need a fourth couple for a foursome. Sir Evan is not here, and besides, he is lame now.” Mrs. Beaton had her sister’s forthright manner, Ronan noted.
“Perhaps Corbie will be my partner. Darrach, would you dance as the fourth peer with the principals? Perhaps Miss Graham would be your partner.” Her eyes twinkled.
“It would be an honor. First I must find her—and your nephew.” Inclining his head, he made his way across the crowded room, his earlier anticipation transforming to concern.
“Betrothal?” Ellison pulledagainst Corbie’s grip. She wanted to cross the terrace and escape into the house, but he held fast. “What do you mean?”
