Page 7 of Kilgannon #1

T HE SUMMER MORNING DAWNED brIGHT AND WARM , and I changed my clothes four times before breakfast. The white dress I’d first put on was not right, so I changed to the lavender.

When I saw myself in the mirror in the parlor I knew the lavender was all wrong and changed to the green but soon scrambled back to my room.

In the dining room I decided the rose dress was too similar to the color I’d worn the night I’d met Alex.

My maid sighed as I pulled gown after gown out of my wardrobe and pondered them.

Why had I ever fought Miss Benton’s efforts?

I could use ten more choices just now. I was deciding between the light blue and the floral pattern when Ellen knocked on my door.

My maid answered and Ellen rushed in, flying past me to the window.

“Miss Mary,” she said breathlessly. “They’re here.

” I moved to her side and together we peered through the lace.

Matthew stood next to his horse, and Alex watched the upper windows as his horse danced in a circle.

A third man was dismounting. I drew back before Alex could see me and met Ellen’s merry eyes.

“The floral,” she said. “It’s perfect for walking in the gardens, Miss Mary.” We smiled at each other, I’d never dressed so quickly. My maid hurried me into the bodice and skirt, while Ellen put a few touches on my hair before declaring me perfect. Even my dour maid agreed.

“But you should wear shoes,” Ellen said, laughing as I crossed the room in my stockings.

I threw myself down the two flights to the ground floor and then paused in the hallway to catch my breath.

Bronson stood in the hallway opposite me, and I realized that someone was in the foyer between us.

Several someones. I flushed with annoyance as I realized that Bronson had kept Alex and his cousins waiting in the hall and was now standing around the corner listening to them.

No doubt the dreadful man thought he was being loyal to the absent Randolph by delaying the visit.

Perhaps he thought that if he kept them waiting long enough they would leave.

And that is just what, apparently, Alex’s cousin thought they should do.

I stood rooted to the spot, staring with hostility at Bronson.

“Alex,” an unfamiliar voice growled, “how much longer are we going to wait? If her blessed Miss Lowell wanted to see ye, we’d be with her now.” Boots tapped on the marble floor. “I dinna understand why we’re here. We have enough elsewhere to busy us.”

Alex’s tone was calm. “We’re here, Angus, because I want ye to meet Mary Lowell. And that’s what we’ll do.”

“What can come of this?”

“What needs come of it? I like her company.”

“Ye’ll only be rejected, ye ken. Even if she likes ye, her family willna let ye court her. Why do this? If ye wish a woman’s company, go home and see Morag. She’d marry ye in a minute.”

“Aye, and break Murdoch’s heart,” Alex said without heat. “If ye wish to leave, then do so. And, Angus, if I thought I’d be rejected, we wouldna be here.”

Angus grunted. “And how much longer will we wait?”

“Until I see Mary Lowell.” There was silence then, and Bronson and I moved forward at the same moment, but I turned the corner before he did. Alex greeted me with a smile, and Matthew, in the center of the hall with an older man, was visibly relieved.

“Lord Kilgannon,” I said cheerfully, “here you are. I have no idea why you’re still in the hall. How rude of you, Bronson, to make our guests wait here. Where is my aunt Louisa?”

Bronson bowed stiffly, his eyes registering my attack. “I do apologize, gentlemen,” he said smoothly. “The Countess Randolph awaits you in the gardens. She bids you to join her.”

“And I do as well,” I said, extending my hand to Alex, who bowed over it. He wore a kilt and shirt this morning, a plaid over his shoulder, a hat with feathers, and a badge under his arm. I thought he looked splendid and smiled at him again.

“Miss Lowell,” he said clearly, and then in a voice only I could hear, “Mary, ye look lovely. How are ye this fine morning?”

“Wonderful,” I said. And it was true. I was wonderful now.

Alex gestured to the other men and introduced his cousin Angus.

“Ye’ve met Angus’s son Matthew a’ready,” he said.

Both men bowed to me, Angus’s expression polite, Matthew’s smile genuine.

Angus MacGannon was older and taller than Alex, a giant of a man with silky golden hair that looked out of place on his big body.

This man was sturdy, his chest a barrel.

Dressed in Highland fashion, he looked huge and intimidating, his blue eyes missing no detail as he bent over my hand.

He greeted me courteously but with reserve.

There were traces of him in his son, but Matthew was young—fifteen, I guessed—and time would tell whether he would grow to the size of his father.

Matthew’s greeting was warm, and I felt my smile widen in response. At least he was glad to see me.

Bronson led us to the terrace, where Louisa and Will waited.

Alex bowed over Louisa’s hand, and his cousins followed suit as Alex introduced them, Matthew awkward but earnest, Angus silent and watchful.

Louisa nodded stiffly as Angus and Matthew bowed over her hand, and Alex turned to me with dancing eyes, grinning as though we had accomplished something remarkable.

“Well, we’ve that done,” he laughed, and turned to Will, asking where his beautiful wife was.

Will explained that Betty had complained of a headache, and Alex extended his wishes for her recovery.

Will smiled and said Betty would improve soon.

I doubted Betty would ever improve, but I kept that to myself.

When Bronson reappeared with a tray, we seated ourselves and chatted about trivialities.

Louisa thawed enough to smile occasionally, and to my surprise Angus and Will grew engrossed in a discussion of hunting, which continued even when Louisa suggested we walk in the garden.

Louisa’s gardens were large by London standards, but still small, divided into the formal garden that surrounded the house and the informal one through which she led us now.

If it were a walk of any duration we’d cover the same ground several times.

At the foot of the stairs she linked her arm in Alex’s, drawing him ahead of the rest of us.

Within moments they were out of earshot, talking earnestly.

In front of us Will and Angus were deep in conversation, and Matthew and I fell into step.

We walked beneath a row of trees in full bloom, slowing our steps to enjoy the cool shadows.

“Do you like London, Mr. MacGannon?” I asked.

Matthew smiled at me. “Oh, yes, Miss Lowell. I’ve been to many other places, but London seems more comfortable.” He puffed his chest out and tried unsuccessfully to sound sophisticated. “Trading, ye ken. We travel often.”

“I see.” I tried to hide my smile. “And where do you go?”

“Paris. Alex and my da go to the Low Countries and Ireland. I’ve been to Ireland, of course, many times.”

“Of course,” I said. “Does your father go on all the trips? ”

“Aye, and Malcolm—that’s Alex’s brother—often goes too.”

“Your mother must miss you terribly when you both travel.”

He glanced at me. “My mother’s dead these three years.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I felt like an idiot as I looked at the boy next to me. “I’ve lost my mother as well. It’s very difficult.”

The blue eyes so like Alex’s clouded. “Aye, it is. My da misses her terrible.” He glanced at his father and then met my gaze without guile. “I’m sorry about yer mother too.”

I thanked him, touched by his sincerity, and we walked for a moment in silence.

Alex and Louisa had drawn even farther ahead, and I assumed that Louisa was explaining in great detail how unsuitable any relationship between us would be.

I wondered if Alex was agreeing. They walked out from the shade of the trees and Alex’s hair caught the sunlight, gold against the scarlet of the hat he now wore.

As though he felt my gaze he turned, found me, and grinned.

I felt immensely cheered. No, I thought, Alex MacGannon would not be sent away, Louisa or not.

I smiled back at him, my heart much lighter.

“Matthew,” I said, my eyes still on Alex.

“Tell me about your family. Tell me everything.”

Matthew was happy to talk. Alex was his father’s first cousin, and the two had grown up together.

Matthew’s mother had been Mairi MacDonald from Skye, and his parents’marriage had been very happy.

Since Mairi’s death, Matthew had been traveling with his father and Alex on their trading journeys and he enjoyed it, but he was always happy to go home.

“Do you all live in Kilgannon?” I asked.

“It’s the home of the MacGannons. Where else would I live?”

“Of course.” I laughed. “Where else?”

Matthew said that Alex’s sons were lively and a lot of fun, but that they didn’t travel with their father.

I asked about Alex’s brother, hoping I didn’t sound like Rowena.

Matthew, unperturbed, said that Alex’s brother James and his sister Katrine were dead and that Malcolm lived at Kilgannon as well.

“Is he here in London with you?” I asked, but never got an answer, for Alex approached us then, his smile wide.