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“A Highlander. There will be many Highland gentlemen at the royal assemblies. Most will be in full Highland regalia. Sir Walter is encouraging it,” she said.

“The man should not look like a Scottish chief. He will attract too much notice.”

“Sir Walter is keen to show what is unique and special about Scottish culture at the royal assemblies,” she countered. “That includes tartan dress for Highlanders.”

“A parade of peacocks in plaid,” Corbie said.

“Adam,” Sir Hector warned. “Yes, Scott is keen to create a sense of the Celtic heyday of Scotland. But we risk overblown pageantry. Many gentlemen will wear formal attire that is elegant and appropriate to the occasion. Ellison, your Highlander must not be allowed to adopt excessive attire.”

“He is not my Highlander. A Highland gentleman dressed authentically is a magnificent sight. The king will appreciate Scottish culture even more.”

“My dear, do not idealize Highlanders. Especially this one.”

“But they are, at heart, a noble race brought down by oppression—”

“Enough! Romanticizing only brought you trouble in the past.”

“Years ago, Papa, and I have paid dearly for it.”

“You have a sensitive nature, Miss Ellison.” Corbie smiled, brown eyes doting, reminding her of treacle. “Teach the man his please-and-thank-you’s and be done with it. Sir, I fear your daughter is a little infatuated.”

“My dear, just see that the man is presentable. Do not let your imagination take hold of your senses.”

“Papa.” She fisted a hand, simmering, then forced a smile. She would prove them wrong and make her father proud of her again.

“I repeat, sir, I must be at Strathniven to ensure the man’s behavior.”

“And I repeat that you are needed here. Your aunt will chaperone.”

“With due respect, my aunt cannot protect Miss Ellison physically.”

“I do not believe Mr. MacGregor is a threat,” Ellison said.

“I doubt you are the best judge of that, Miss Ellison,” Corbie retorted.

“We cannot assign a guard at Strathniven,” her father said. “This must be private. Besides, every military man will be needed to manage the crowds coming into the city. Soon the streets will be full day and night. They say every bed and broom closet will be rented out as people arrive from all over Scotland.”

“I am taking Balor with me,” Ellison said. “He is fiercely protective.”

Corbie laughed. “That little mop! He snaps at boots and chews carpet.”

“That pup is more bother than he is worth,” Sir Hector said.

“He chewed a little carpet, but he grew out of the habit. Lady Strathniven adores him. You know she keeps a full staff in summer. The house will be busy.”

“Then someone at Strathniven can be enlisted to help. Who is that strapping young lad who helps there? Donald. Douglas,” Sir Hector said.

“Donal Brodie,” Ellison said. “A good lad, very smart. He works with Mr. MacNie in the stables sometimes. Mr. MacGregor will need a valet, and Donal would do.”

“Valet!” Corbie said. “Someone needs to watch his every move, not tie his cravat.”

“Donal will do. Mention it to Lady Strathniven,” Sir Hector told Ellison.

“I will.” A question burned in her mind. “Did Mr. MacGregor agree to the plan?”

“He will comply, trust me,” Corbie said.

That made her wary. “What do you mean?”