Page 150 of A Rogue in Firelight
Ronan stood infront of Sir Hector as they moved ahead slowly in the long, crowded line of gentlemen waiting to be admitted to the room where they would greet and be introduced to King George.
“Not many ahead of us now, and scores of men behind us,” Sir Hector told Ronan. “You are well prepared, I think.”
“I am, all thanks to your daughter, sir.”
Sir Hector gave him a rare smile. “That turned out better than any of us could ever have hoped. I owe you thanks, and an apology.”
“Not needed, sir. All is well, especially once this is over and done.”
“And once Corbie and Pitlinnie have their comeuppance,” Graham muttered. “I owe you and Ellison thanks for that revelation as well. By the way, I wanted to tell you that I had dinner last evening in a small group with the king, and with the Lord Provost and Sir Walter Scott too. Your name was mentioned.”
“Mine!” Ronan looked at him in surprise.
“The king had heard of the scandal with my secretary, and as we filled in some of the story, you and my daughter were both named heroes in the matter. The king asked if you were the one responsible for the whisky he so enjoys. I said aye and proudly claimed you as my new son-in-law.”
“Thank you, Sir Hector.”
“The king is very busy, but wanted to know more. And—oh, we are moving again!”
Ronan peered ahead as the queue edged along in the reception room. At the far end of the vast room, he could see the draped dais and King George, tall and portly, in a kilt and saggy pink stockings, of all things. The king greeted guests in a booming voice and a rapid, abrupt way, which helped move the long line steadily.
“And what, sir?” Ronan asked, curious.
“King George mentioned reviewing a petition this week to restore an old earldom to the current Lord Darrach. He called you ‘that whisky lord,’ and we confirmed that as well. Then—you do have your calling card, sir? The Lord-in-Waiting is just ahead, taking the calling cards of those who will be introduced.”
“I have it. And then?” Ronan prodded.
“The king seems to favor restoring the earldom to the original family. That would be you, sir.” Sir Hector moved forward, as did Ronan. “He seems pleased to approve it, not only because he likes your whisky—ah, here we go,” Hector said as he surrendered his card, and Ronan did the same. “He also likes being associated with heroic men, and he had heard of your actions. He is impressed.”
“Thank you for telling me so, sir. But who petitioned to restore the earldom?”
“Lady Strathniven,” he answered. “She does not want to leave the title to her nephew, and she recently discovered—in talking to you—your family history. Your kin were the Earls of Strathniven. So she took it to Lord Lyon to be approved by the Lyon Court, the court of heraldry in Scotland.”
“She never said,” Ronan replied, astonished. “I am honored.”
“She is set on you becoming the legitimate earl. She would push the very king on it if she could, I think.” Sir Hector chuckled.
“I will thank her. And Lord Lyon as well.”
“You must meet him. A very good fellow—about your age, I think, with a similar background. Sir Alasdair Drummond—Lord Lyon is his official position in the heraldry office. He is here somewhere—there. I will introduce you later.”
Ronan followed Graham’s pointing finger to see a tall, black-haired young gentleman dressed in full Highland kit, a big handsome Highland man standing well above the others in the circle where he stood chatting. He saw the fellow smile broadly and laugh heartily. That alone made him like the man, aside from his immediate gratitude and curiosity.
“Sir Alasdair’s wife is the daughter of a very fine painter. You and Ellison should have your portraits done. I hear she does rather beautiful miniatures if you like that sort of thing.”
“Someday, aye,” Ronan said.
“Oh, one thing more.” Graham was in an unusually cheerful and talkative mood as they shuffled along, Ronan thought. “I told Sir Walter that my daughter is an exceptional writer who is working on a novel. He expressed interest in reading it if she would like.”
Ronan grinned. “She would be more than delighted, I am sure. What I have read is coming along very nicely.”
“Good. Ah, Mr. Cameron is just there. He is not being introduced, having met the king earlier, but here he is to cheer you on. Cameron!”
Hugh made his way toward them through the dense crowd. “Darrach! Sir Hector! What a day this is! Glad to see you both—have you heard the latest development? Murder is afoot!”
“Murder!” Ronan lifted a brow.
“Corbie is eager to paint Pitlinnie with tar and is blaming him for everything he can. He says Pitlinnie set you up to be arrested, as he wants to be rid of you. And—he says Pitlinnie was behind the murders of your brother and your cousin. According to Pitlinnie, Corbie was the one who thought to take down the Whisky Rogues to begin a takeover of Glenbrae and finally Strathniven. Those two have been plotting something for years.”
