Page 93 of A Rogue in Firelight
Ronan leaned forward. “I hope you feel better soon, Miss Beaton. News?”
Drawing envelopes from her pocket, Sorcha set them on the table. “While we were out yesterday, Mr. MacNie fetched the post in Kinross, and a messenger arrived from Duncraig as well. But first, can I ask if all is well? You returned so late last night.”
“Just a mishap with a wheel. Nothing to be concerned about,” Ronan said.
“I am glad it was not worse. But sorry you missed the excitement.” Sorcha held up the creamy envelopes. “One for you, Elly, and one for me—well, the news is for all of us.” She handed one letter to Ellison.
Miss E. Graham, Strathniven House, Perthshire,read the envelope in Sir Hector’s spiking, impatient scrawl. She felt a sudden dread. “Tell us your news first, dear,” she said.
“Mine is from Mama. She enclosed a note for me, and an invitation to all of us! She has decided to hold a country supper and dance at Duncraig. My lady aunt persuaded her. And Lord Darrach, you are invited too. Mama insists upon it, having heard all about you from Lady Strathniven.”
“Indeed? How kind.” Despite his smile, Ellison thought he paled beneath the shadow of his clean-shaven jaw.
“The dance is to be acèilidhin the Highland style,” Sorcha said. “Though it is often a celebration after harvest or for a housewarming or something similar, Mama and Aunt Strathniven think it will suit their friends who are summering in the Highlands just now with plans to depart for Edinburgh soon. There will be Scottish dancing and a late supper.”
“How nice! When will it be?” While uncertain if Ronan—or she—felt ready for a social event for Lord Darrach, Ellison knew it was inevitable.
“At the end of the week. It is not much notice, but it will be informal as cèilidhs are, with locals and gentry mingling together. Mama hopes Lord Darrach will be free to attend.”
“He would be honored,” Ronan murmured with a tilt of his head.
“It will be a wonderful evening, I am sure,” Ellison said.
“Mama says this will give people a chance to gather intimately before the large assemblies in the city. Besides, my lady aunt has a birthday, part of the celebration.”
“August, yes! I nearly forgot,” Ellison said.
“Mama also invited her good friend Lady Elizabeth Murray and her husband.” She dabbed at her nose to suppress a sneeze. “Oh! Excuse me. He is Sir Evan Murray-MacGregor, who is the new chief of the MacGregors. Do you know them, Lord Darrach?”
“He is a cousin.” Ellison raised an eyebrow, hearing that, but cousins abounded in any clan. “He will be very busy during the royal visit, I understand.”
“I hope they can come. I am looking forward to having a cèilidh dance,” Sorcha said, and then began to cough behind her handkerchief.
“If you are to recover by next week, you must rest,” Ellison said.
“I will go up in a moment. Did your father send good news, Elly?”
“I hope so.” Opening the letter, Ellison read her father’s brief note, written in his usual terse tone. Her stomach sank after a moment, but she looked up with a smile.
“He says the city is already crowded with people arriving from all over. And the king is expected in less than two weeks.” She paused. “He also says—Adam Corbie is coming up here. We can expect him Thursday. MacNie is to meet the coach in Kinross that afternoon.”
Sorcha stifled another sneeze. “Wonderful,” she said thickly. “We must invite Mr. Corbie to come with us to Duncraig. I will write to Mama this afternoon.”
“Thursday,” Ronan said, looking at Ellison.
“Three days,” she murmured, her gaze touching his.
*
“The lessons mustcontinue,” Ellison said, when Ronan joined her in the library later, “considering what is coming all too soon.”
“Corbie?” At his skeptical look, his prim tutor pressed her lips together.
“You will soon be introduced to the king, but your lessons are not done.” Standing by the library table, she set down the books she held and faced him.
“My dear Miss Graham, I can conduct myself impeccably when necessary, whether at a king’s ball or a cèilidh. We do not need more lessons, and you have no cause for concern.”
Her hands, her graceful fingers that he so wanted to hold, to kiss, flexed anxiously. “What concerns me is that you will be under scrutiny from my father and Corbie, who expect to see perfection.”
