Page 73 of A Rogue in Firelight

“Of course. Ah, Miss Beaton,” he said, as Sorcha entered the parlor carrying a basket of stitchery work, ready to act the gentle chaperone.

“Sorcha, do join us. Reviewing the guidelines for the royal visit will help all of us.”

“I am happy to, Elly,” Sorcha said as she sat beside Ellison on a sofa near the window. Ronan felt reluctant to sit on the thing himself, for its delicately curved legs gave him pause. He preferred more solid furniture. Sorcha resumed her needlework and Ellison opened the book. He chose a sturdy chair covered in red tartan cloth.

“Studying etiquette is a suitably dull task for a rainy day,” he said. “Proceed.”

Sorcha giggled, but his pretty tutor gave him a scathing look. “We have work to do,” Ellison said primly.

“I did want to ride out later, regardless of the rain.” He could not stay cooped up inside for long, after months in a dungeon cell. Besides, a Highlander was accustomed to being out in any sort of weather. Today he wore trousers and coat again, but at least they were his own; Donal had fetched them along with the rest of his Highland kit.

“Will you tour your Darrach estate, sir? I would love to see it,” Sorcha said.

“It is a distance from here. He may be too busy.” Ellison arrowed a look that warned him not to take the viscount ruse too far. He needed no reminder.

“If you would both like to tour the countryside, I will show you a pretty loch not far from here. Perhaps Donal would come with us.” He noticed Sorcha brighten at the mention of Donal, a handsome, engaging lad near her own age. “We could go fishing.”

“Could we do that tomorrow?” Sorcha asked eagerly.

“Perhaps,” Ellison clipped out. For some reason, she was not pleased with him. Did she worry he might indulge in a bit of smuggling if left to wander outside? He twisted his mouth sourly.

“We can catch fish,” he said.

“I do not want to catch fish,” Ellison replied, wrinkling her nose.

“I will show you the Highland method of fishing. It’s just the sort of thing one might read about in a book,” he added teasingly.

As he suspected, her eyes sparkled at the prospect of research. “Perhaps.”

“Tomorrow, then, if the weather suits.”

“Wonderful!” Sorcha, who easily radiated enthusiasm, beamed.

“Then it is settled. I will speak to Donal Brodie.”

“Perhaps Mrs. Barrow will pack a luncheon basket.” Ellison opened the book. “Now, let us discuss what is expected once the king arrives. Let me see.” She traced a finger over one page, the next. “Here. The Lord Provost and magistrates, with the sheriff and other officials, will meet the royal party when the king disembarks at Leith Harbor. The ancient keys of the city will be presented to King George, and the Edinburgh cavalry will lead the progress from Leith to Holyrood Palace... Darrach, are you listening?”

“Aye, madam,” he drawled, opening one eye. Sorcha laughed.

“Gentlemen are expected to wear a blue coat, white waistcoat, and white or nankeen pantaloons. This can be got up handsomely for an inconsiderable cost, it says.”

“I may have to miss this momentous occasion,” he remarked.

“You would look fine in that outfit.”

“I doubt anyone would look well in that. Besides, I am not expected to attend that part of the festivities.”

“True,” Ellison agreed. “My father will be there, but we can stay away.”

“There will be a large assembly of Highlanders in full regalia,” Sorcha said. “Will you join your clan, Lord Darrach?”

“If MacGregor of Clan Gregor summons me, I must answer.” He doubted it.

“In plaid, bonnet, feathers and all?” Sorcha smiled. “So romantic! Ellison, do you not agree Lord Darrach would be the grandest fellow there?”

“Grand indeed,” Ellison said, pink rising in her cheeks. “Some may elect to wear Highland dress, but Papa and other gentlemen will wear formal black and white.”

“We must comply, I suspect,” he said.