Page 14 of Lyon of Scotland
“Our housekeeper and butler are watching over things at home. But Papa and my sisters will be gone for weeks, so I have decided to stay a bit longer,” she added.
“That dreadful Whitworth caused such trouble for you,” Georgina muttered. “I would hate to see you leave, but I want you to be free of that burden and happy again.”
Hannah shrugged. “I cannot ask Papa for help, so I must do what I can for now. But I am excited to go to the theatre tonight,” she continued, eager to change the subject.
“Yes! We usually use the Duke of Gordon’s box, as it belongs to my grandfather. But tonight my mother said Sir Walter Scott has permission to use it. Luckily, Sir George invited you to share Lord Scarborough’s box with him this evening. Thank you for inviting me and my brother as your companions tonight. We wanted to see this play.”
“Most of Sir George’s guests are from the College of Arms, and I was flattered to be included. I am happy to bring you and Oliver.”
“I am sure Sir George included you because he wants to keep you as an artist. Your father is an important name in the art world. Oh! Mama said that Sir Walter is bringing some Scottish guests, including a Highlander who just arrived in the city, a high-ranking official in Edinburgh. A very eligible bachelor, they say! Mama had it from Lady Lambert, who had it from another lady that the man was seen wearing a kilt in daylight. Most Scots in London wear Highland dress only for an evening soiree or a ball. Mama said the man cuts a very handsome figure.”
“I saw him.” Hannah stood and pulled on her gloves. Her heart quickened. “He has been in and out of the College of Arms all week. He is Lord Lyon, in charge of all Scottish heraldry. Lord Strathburn is his family title. I have seen him several times at my father’s home and on other occasions.” She took in a little breath as if to protect a dear secret. “He is a friend of Papa’s and Sir Walter’s too.”
“Did he truly wear Highland dress to the College of Arms? Did he carry a knife in his stocking?”
Hannah laughed. “A tartan kilt and black jacket, very nice. I did not notice a knife.” She had been too swept up in those deep brown eyes to look at his stockings. “If I see him again, I will look. He is quite handsome, aye, tall and dark and rather heroic.”
Georgina sighed. “We must look for him tonight. Is he arrogant or charming?”
“Reserved but kind, I would say. Very knowledgeable about heraldry.”
“I might melt if I meet him. Do I look well enough?” Georgina ran to the mirror.
“You do!” Hannah felt her heart thump at the thought of Lord Strathburn at an evening event. “Is that your brother calling us from downstairs?”
“Oh! He has the manners of a chimney sweep!” Georgina went to the door. “We are almost ready! Do stop yelling, Ollie. It issuchbad form!” she called just as loudly.
Hannah reached for her shawl and picked up her small reticule netted in gold thread over cream silk. She needed a bit of happiness tonight, she told herself, something to help her forget the difficulties that plagued her.
But those troubles slid back into her thoughts like inky poison as she realized that Sir Frederic Dove would also attend the theatre as Naylor’s guest. That dropped her bright mood like a stone.
She swept her shawl over her shoulders, preferring to wear the woolen arisaid, a Highland shawl woven in soft colors in a tartan style reserved for women. It was a comforting reminder of home, where she longed to be, where life was familiar and safe.
But she might never escape the humiliation that hung over her head like Damocles’ sword.
Chapter Three
“The play shouldbe excellent, especially with Mr. Kean playing the main part,” said Sir Walter Scott, seated beside Dare in the darkened theatre box. “It is an Elizabethan play, very old. A raucous comedy, I hear.”
Dare nodded, glancing around from his chair in the Duke of Gordon’s box. Two others had joined them that evening—John Lockhart, Sir Walter’s son-in-law, and Dare’s good friend Lord Linhope. As the others spoke quietly, Dare studied the program.
“A New Way to Pay Old Debts,” he read, “by Philip Massinger. Kean plays Sir Giles Overreach. That tells us something right there,” he told Scott.
His friend laughed. “Another character is called Justice Greedy. The play involves a debt-collector’s scheme. Debt makes a treacherous slope! My friend Lord Byron once told me it puzzled him greatly that those who loaned him money actually wanted it back.”
Dare chuckled. “Why would they expect that?”
“Look there—the box opposite ours. That is Sir George Naylor. And one of the young ladies is Miss Hannah Gordon, I believe.”
Glancing at the box on the opposite wall, across the span of the audience, Dare saw Naylor and the others illuminated in the golden light of flaming candelabras overhead. His heart gave a leap to see a vision in soft pink and gold sitting beside a dark-haired young lady. “Miss Gordon, aye. I saw her at the College of Arms this week. She is doing some heraldic art for Naylor.”
“A heraldry artist! Just the lass for you.” The twinkle in Scott’s eye was mischievous. “Perhaps you could hire Archie’s girl in Edinburgh. But she is engaged, is that not right?”
“I understand that has broken off.”
“Then that presents a chance for an eligible Scottish bachelor.” Scott grinned.
“Possibly.” Dare watched Hannah Gordon, seeing her clearly in a pool of flickering candlelight from chandeliers being adjusted by the snuff-boys in the shadows using ropes and pulleys. The light lent a soft, warm glow to her face and form in the pink gown. She was gently beautiful. The sight of her was like nourishment for the soul.
