“Hmph!” Anne sniffed. “AnEnglishduke would never back down.”
Before they could get into an argument, Lorelei pointed to a carriage rolling toward them. “I think that might be him now.”
Alasdair turned. “Aye. ’Tis the ducal crest on the door.”
Her stomach felt like she’d swallowed hot coals. The moment was almost here. She wasn’t sure how she would greet Randolph, knowing he was the duke’s second for this horrible event, but she would try to be collected for Alasdair’s sake.
He mustn’t know how deeply worried she was, in spite of Fiona’s assurances. And in spite of his skill with a sword. “First blood” had been the terms agreed to, but that didn’t mean just a nick. It could be a major wound. There was still so much that could go wrong.
Her heart leaped to her throat when the carriage stopped and the duke stepped down. When he closed the door behind him, she frowned. Where was Randolph? She looked down the road. Had he decided to come separately? Were they going to have to wait more interminable minutes for him to arrive?
Mount Stuart met the duke as he walked across the field. They exchanged a few words, Mount Stuart nodded, and the two men proceeded toward their group.
Alasdair straightened as the Duke of Oakley approached him. “Your Grace.”
“MacGregor.” The duke glanced over the rest of the party for a long moment, then handed Alasdair a paper that he’d had folded in his hand. “There will be no duel.” He sighed. “It seems my daughter has chosen to elope to Gretna Green with Westwood.”
…
Lorelei still couldn’t believe what had happened. Or, more importantly, what hadnothappened. Even now, sitting beside Alasdair on the settee in the Earl of Bute’s parlor, she was trying to make sense of it.
“You know,” Louisa said to no one in particular, “maybe none of us was very observant.”
“What do ye mean?” Fiona asked.
“Ummm. It is rather strange that Lord Westwood eloped with Melissa.”
“That is an understatement,” Alasdair said. “I didna think the man hadeverbroken a rule.”
“Is it against English law to run off to Gretna Green?” Devon asked.
“It is not,” Anne answered before Louisa could. “But it is hardly proper for a duke’s daughter.”
“Why nae?” There was a challenge in Devon’s voice. “Because she is nae a commoner?”
Anne gave him an exasperated look. “Nobility is expected to follow standards. One of those is a proper wedding.”
“And Westwood is always proper,” Alasdair said. “So ’tis doubly surprising.”
Louisa shrugged. “Maybe he and Melissa were actually in love all this time.”
“But she cried off,” Lorelei said, “and she made it quite clear she wanted to marry Alasdair.”
Louisa gave her a thoughtful look. “Perhaps because she thought Lord Westwood was going to marryyou. Hewaspaying you court.”
“Only because of that stupid scandal.”
“But she did not know that. And it was never clear what really happened between her and Lord Westwood,” Louisa answered. “What wedoknow is that none of his friends—which really means his acquaintances, too—would offer for her hand.”
“Which is why she latched on to me,” Alasdair said. “I never kenned that she cared, since she didna once ask about Scotland.”
“Sassenachs,” Devon muttered.
“And I am glad,” Lorelei said before Anne could counter his remark. She turned to Alasdair. “Perhaps Louisa is right, now that I think on it. Melissa and Randolph both acted strange when they partnered with us at the whist party.”
“Aye…and at the second card party, she moved to another table.”
“And Randolph was very quiet that night.”
