Page 41 of A Rogue in Firelight

“Since you speak like a gentleman, may we assume you require little tutoring?”

“My mother taught her children excellent manners, and our parents ensured that my siblings and I were well-educated, regardless of diminished fortune. Like many after Culloden, my great-grandfather lost his lands and title,” he added.

“How unfortunate. I am sorry,” Lady Strathniven said.

“Nonetheless, I would benefit from instruction. I have not met royalty before.”

“Most Scots will require lessons in royal protocol, I think,” Lady Strathniven said. “Sir Walter has written a book of advice. For example, ladies are told to wear gowns with trains several feet long, with nine ostrich feathers in their headdresses. Elly,” she added, “we will need to study his etiquette guide carefully.”

“We will,” Ellison agreed. “Papa gave us copies of Sir Walter’s pamphlet,” she told MacGregor. “It is written by an ‘anonymous citizen,’ but we all know it is Scott.”

“He does enjoy anonymity,” MacGregor agreed. “He still denies being the author of the Waverley novels and prefers to be called a poet.”

“Some think novel writing is not as respectable an occupation as writing poetry,” the lady said. “Ellison writes lovely poems. Though I do love a good novel.”

“Poetry?” MacGregor quirked a brow, looking at Ellison.

“Some.” And a novel she was secretly writing. She felt a fierce blush growing.

“I too prefer a good novel.” He sipped his coffee.

He was more educated than he let on, Ellison thought. He was no ordinary Highland smuggler, to be sure, and had secrets. She could only hope nothing would complicate this lunatic scheme, as he had called it.

“Let the pageant master help us prepare for the king’s visit,” the viscountess said.

“Pageant master?” MacGregor asked.

“Sir Walter. It is not meant in a flattering way, my lady,” Ellison clarified.

“Well, his wee book will be useful. Glenbrae, you can borrow my copy to read the details. Then you can tell me what I must know. I will leave my copy in the library for you.”

“The library in the tower?” he asked. Ellison avoided his glance.

“My late husband’s library, just along the corridor. Not the musty old tower library that Ellison prefers.”

“I saw the tower library last night, madam. A fine collection of old volumes.”

“Feel free to explore both collections, sir. My husband took great pride in his books and was pleased to share them. You enjoy reading and scholarship, I think?”

“I do,” he murmured.

“Ellison, your task will be an easy one, I think. Sir Hector and Adam will see quick progress when they arrive to judge for themselves.”

Sipping her tea, Ellison sputtered a little. “They are too busy to come north.”

“Your father said he may send Adam up to be sure everyone is prepared.”

Her stomach sank. She did not want that scrutiny. “We will be ready.”

“Glenbrae.” Lady Strathniven looked at MacGregor. “I have the utmost confidence in you and your excellent tutor. But let us be honest here.”

“Madam?”

“This venture is chancy, but may be the best solution.”

“I wonder for whom it is best, my lady,” he murmured. “If we are being frank.”

“True. I see no reason for them to know that you speak English as well as anyone and already comport yourself as if born to the peerage. I, for one, will not mention it. Let them be pleased with Ellison’s work, and with you.”