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She smiled at him before turning to the young lady at her side, who blushed bright red. “Miss MacDonald, allow me to introduce Mr. Featherton, who is visiting me from England. Mr. Featherton, this is Miss MacDonald.”

He bowed. “A pleasure to meet you.”

She curtseyed, and said in a voice so faint, he almost couldn’t hear her, “Pleasure.”

“It would be my honor to stand up with you if you have a dance available.”

She held out her dance card. The only name on it was a D.

MacDonald, most likely a relation, for the opening set, which was a waltz.

He took the pencil dangling from her wrist and scribbled his name next to the second set, a country dance.

He was surprised to note only two waltzes were planned for the evening.

Fortunately the second one was the supper dance.

“The second dance then.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Never thank a gentleman for offering to stand up with you,” he said gently. “It is always his honor.”

She smiled shyly.

The sounds of the musicians readying themselves could be heard.

Kit bowed. “I must collect my partner.”

He swore softly as a gentleman bowed to Mary, and Kit reached her just in time to elbow the man away.

The Scot growled, and Kit raised his quizzing glass, giving the man his most innocuous look. “I’m terribly sorry, but Lady Mary is promised to me for this set.”

Her eyes danced as he bowed. “My lady.”

She inclined her head. “Mr. Featherton.” As he led her to the dance floor, she lowered her voice. “You remembered.”

“Why would you think I mightn’t?” Good Lord . It wasn’t possible, was it? “Don’t tell me I once requested to stand up with you and forgot?”

Her laughter tinkled like bells. “No, of course not. Though, with the other gentlemen surrounding me, I did think that you might not think me in need of a partner and . . . ”

Was that how she saw him? Someone who only danced with ladies requiring a partner? Yet wasn’t that exactly what he had always done? When was the last time he had asked a lady to dance for the pure joy of having her in his arms? It shocked him that the answer was never. Mary was the first.

They took their places, bowing and curtseying with the rest of the crowd.

He took her small hand in his, and placed his fingers on her waist. “You may not have needed to dance with me, but I definitely needed to dance with you.”

“What a lovely thing to say.”

She was as light as a feather in his arms, and he didn’t think he’d ever partnered a woman who moved as fluidly with him, as if they were one.

Kit’s palm burned into her waist. Mary had known he was an excellent dancer. After all, he could make the clumsiest lady appear graceful. What she hadn’t realized was how well they fitted together. It was as if they were made for one another.

She caught several ladies glancing their way, and she didn’t believe it was because they looked so compatible. They probably wished they were with him. She hoped he’d hold her closer. “We seem to be drawing attention.”

His grip on her waist tightened. “I feel like a Royal Menagerie exhibit.”

She couldn’t help but giggle a bit. “A suitable analogy.”

His eyes turned bluer as he gazed down at her. She’d never enjoyed waltzing so much. All too soon the set came to an end, and he escorted her back to Lady Theo, where Mary was once more besieged. Before he left, he looked at her dance card. “Thank you for adding my name.”

“How could I not? You did request the sets.”

Unlike her first Season, when her eyes sought him out and he never responded, she was pleased to find him searching for her as well.

Her partner for the fourth dance led her to the floor. “Lady Mary, you are the most beautiful woman here.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She wanted to roll her eyes.

In addition to being forward, all the gentlemen said the same thing.

It was nothing but flummery. She almost wished to be complimented on her garden .

. . by anyone but Kit, that was. When he told her she looked well, he was sincere.

Mary turned her attention back to the young peer whose name she’d already half forgotten.

Sometime later, Mary stole a surreptitious glance at her dance card. Thank God. Only one more set until the supper dance.

Soon a middle-aged gentleman bowed before her. “My lady, I believe this is my dance. However, if you’d rather stroll the room, I’m perfectly happy to oblige.”

She fanned herself. Despite the doors and windows being open, the room was stuffy and hot. Now if only she could remember his name without having to peek at her dance card. “I’d like that extremely.”

“Mr. Grant,” Lady Theo said, “as you are not joining this set, would you be so kind as to arrange glasses of lemonade for Lady Mary and me?”

“My pleasure, my lady.” He walked away, hailing a footman.

“You do not want to consider him, my dear,” Lady Theo whispered in her ear. “He is a widower with five thousand a year and four children. All girls. The first one comes out next year.”

Mary bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Thank you for your advice. I shall keep it in mind.”

Mr. Grant returned her to Lady Theo just before Kit came to fetch her for the waltz. Once he took her hand, she felt as if she were in a different world. Did he feel the same? She desperately wanted him to. Yet how to know? He was as polite as always, but she wanted more.

Simon had waited in a shadow by the stairs to the ballroom until he saw Morna, his son, and his daughter enter.

His stomach clenched as if he’d been struck.

Cormac was tall and strong, just as Simon thought he’d be.

Finella reminded him of Morna when she was younger.

Sixteen, to be exact. He made the mental calculations.

Finella was barely the same age. What the hell was Morna doing bringing their daughter out now?

The girl was too young. He took a closer look, and Finella appeared ill at ease.

This might not be her first adult entertainment, but it would certainly be her last for at least two years.

No daughter of his would be allowed to marry at sixteen.

Wanting to see the shock on Morna’s face when she saw him, wanting her to suffer as he had over the years, he’d thought to approach her boldly when she arrived.

Yet he hadn’t considered how the rest of Edinburgh’s Polite Society would respond, or the embarrassment he could cause his sister and her guests.

Therefore, he skirted the edge of the room as his family made their way through the crowd, and waited.

His son approached Lady Mary and was introduced, only to be turned away as she gave him a polite smile.

Apparently, Cormac had not arrived in time to obtain a dance.

Other gentlemen, the vultures, began to gather around Finella as Morna smiled and performed introductions.

It was all Simon could do to stop himself from dragging his daughter away.

He crossed the ballroom, moving behind the pillars which separated the center on each side from small alcoves, potted palms, and enough cover to take Morna unawares.

While his wife stood off to the side, his children had partners and were forming the set for a country dance. When he was close enough to almost touch her, he placed his lips close to her ear. “Morna, I’ve come for you and our children.”

Her head whipped around, and her eyes grew wide. She opened her mouth, and promptly swooned. Simon caught her before she slid to the wooden floor.

Theo was there in an instant. “Why in the name of heaven,” she said in a disgusted tone, “could you not have approached her from the front? At least it would have given her a little time to accustom herself to your being here.” He lifted Morna into his arms. “For the love of God, Simon, I don’t think you’ve changed a bit.

” Theo glanced around. “Come through this door. There is a parlor, and I pray it’s empty.

Carrying her through the ballroom will cause talk. ”

“I don’t care,” he growled. Claiming his family was the only thing that mattered, and that included his wife. Damn him for an idiot. He loved her as much now as he ever had.

“You may not,” his sister snapped, “but I do. Follow me. What were you thinking? Or were you?”

“I didn’t want to give her a chance to deny me.”

Ignoring him, Theo strolled toward a door painted with the same mural that covered the walls of the entire room. He held Morna tightly as if she’d awaken and jump out of his arms.

Theo opened the door, shoved him in, and glanced around. “Put her on the chaise. I’ll procure some water. ”

The door closed, leaving him and his wife in the dimly lit parlor. He chafed her hands. “Morna, come back to me, my love.”

Her lashes fluttered. A moment later, her lovely green eyes, the color of new leaves, opened. “It is you, Simon? I thought I was seeing a ghost.”

“Mayhap a ghoulie?” He stroked her jaw and leaned down to kiss her. She smelled of heather and rosemary, as she had before. All thoughts of revenge on her were forgotten as he pressed his lips to hers.

“Ye do not understand, Simon.” Tears filled her eyes. “I thought ye were dead.”