She plastered on a deliberately bland expression. “Perhaps you spotted me in the audience during one of your performances. At times, I can be a bit overenthusiastic in my applause.” Donning a quick, false smile, she went on. “My dear aunt often chaperoned me on my outings to the theater. She likened my applause to…ah, what was it…a seal clapping in a circus.”
Raibert’s brows shot up as Harrison smothered a cough against his fist and Belle giggled.
“A seal,” Raibert repeated. “Mrs. MacMasters, I cannot imagine any circumstance when one might have confused you with such a creature.”
Grace gave a little shrug. “My aunt has always possessed a rather colorful way with the English language.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Harrison said. As he spoke, his gaze darted to the balcony. Grace trailed his line of sight.
A pair of men stood in the very spot on the balcony they’d occupied not long before. Each wore an elegant evening coat and dark trousers, and each stared into the crowd, as if searching for someone. One of the men slid a hand inside his jacket. Light flashed against metal. Was he reaching for a weapon?
Harrison sent her a speaking glance. She nodded her understanding. If a sudden problem developed, she knew what to do.
“Raibert, I do not wish to alarm the ladies,” Harrison said evenly. “It appears you have uninvited guests.”
Their host glanced to the balcony. “I presume you’re referring tothem.”
“That would be correct. I suspect at least one of those gents is armed.”
“Those are my bodyguards.” Belle’s reply was matter-of-fact.
“Good heavens. Is there something you haven’t told me?” Lowering her voice, Grace moved closer. “Have you been threatened?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Belle replied. “There are certain members of the press who are, shall we say, very determined. They’ve followed me from America. All that nonsense about the Notorious Heiress.It’s quite maddening.”
“They might work on blending in,” Harrison commented. “One in particular is blatantly obvious.”
“Isn’t that the idea?” Raibert said with a sly smile. “Say, MacMasters, I’ve had my fill of these blasted waltzes. For what we’re paying, you’d think these musicians would know how to play something that makes the blood pump a bit. Join me for a scotch? I’ve stocked the finest in the Highlands.”
“I trust the two of you won’t miss us,” Harrison said, his fingers glancing over the skin on her forearm.
Grace smiled. “Actually, darling, I would relish the opportunity to indulge in some mischief with Belle. We’ve scarcely had a moment to talk since I arrived.”
“I agree,” the heiress spoke up. “I’m so weary of all this chatter. It’s all rather…aimless. When I speak with you, Grace, I feel I’ve gained a true friend.”
A true friend.
On one level, the words were rather ironic. But on another, there was an honesty, a kinship Grace couldn’t hope to explain.
Harrison and Raibert took their leave, and Belle motioned to an immaculately attired server bearing a silver tray.
“You really must try the champagne,” she said. “I’d never even tasted the stuff while I was in Buffalo. Father forbade me to drink, despite his own fondness for the bottle.”
“Of course,” Grace said, taking a crystal flute from the tray. She inhaled the light, pleasant aroma of a fine vintage, then took a sip. And another.
“I am so happy you were able to change your plans…especially with such late notice…and become a part of the wedding festivities.” Belle took a drink, a bit more than a sip, and smiled.
“We’re delighted the timing worked out. I would have been devastated to miss it.”
“I know you must think this odd, given we’ve known each other such a very short time, but I’m thankful to have you here. I do love it in the Highlands. But I miss…home…so terribly.”
“I do understand,” Grace said, allowing honesty to flavor her words. “I’m awaiting the day when I’m home again.”
“But your husband… He is a Highlander, is he not?”
Husband.There was that word again. Grace pushed past it. “He is every bit the Highlander.”
“And he does not intend to live in the land of his ancestors?”
