“At every Almack’s dance, he watched her,” Lorelei said, realizing now that they had always danced near Alasdair and Melissa.
Alasdair nodded. “And she always seemed to cling to me more when he was near. I always wondered why.”
“Because it showed Randolph she didn’t care.” Lorelei recognized that tactic, since she’d done the same…acting like she was interested in whatever Randolph was talking about so Alasdair would think she was having a wonderful time. When both Alasdair and Devon stared at her, she shrugged. “Do not bother trying to understand it.”
“Sassenach females,” Devon muttered.
Alasdair drew his brows together. “I also remember that one night at White’s when Campbell mentioned Melissa seemed out of sorts because I didn’t attend Almack’s, Westwood didn’t seem to like it, either. He was quite put out.”
“Aye,” Fiona said, “and the time we went to Burlington House, Melissa turned nasty when I said that Lord Westwood treated Lorelei like a princess.”
Alasdair made a growling sound at that. “I will treat Lorelei like a queen.”
Devon snorted. “Di math! Tha thu craicte!”
“What does that mean?” Anne asked. “It is quite rude to speak—”
“It means my brother thinks I am barmy.” Alasdair smiled at Lorelei. “Mayhap I am.”
She smiled back. “And I ambarmyabout you as well.”
This time it was Anne who groaned and rolled her eyes.
“At any rate,” Louisa said, “I think perhaps Lady Melissa and Lord Westwood truly were—are—in love.”
Could it be? Lorelei remembered how she’d met Randolph behind the potted palm at the dance. She’d been looking for a place to hide so she could watch Alasdair. Maybe the marquess had been doing the same thing. He had said he was “observing.” And then, the night of the scandal, he’d said he needed to tell her something. She had wondered if he were going to ask to formally court her. Now, in hindsight, maybe what he had actually planned to do—before the evening had gone so horribly wrong—was to declare his intent to make amends with Melissa. Goodness, had she been wearing blinders all this time?
“I hope you are right, Louisa. I wish them the best of luck.”
“Yes, that’s all very well,” Anne said, “but we have a wedding to plan.”
“We? What do ye ken about planning a Scottish wedding?” Devon asked.
“Scottish?” She frowned.
“Aye, it will be a grandceilidh.”
Anne narrowed her eyes. “What is that?”
“It’s a Scottish celebration for anything that is deemed important,” Lorelei answered. “Anything really. The MacGregors had one when their clan name was un-proscribed.”
Devon gave Alasdair a thoughtful look. “Yeareplanning to live in Scotland?”
He shook his head. “I told Lorelei I would make my home here.”
“Of course you will. London is civilized,” Anne said. “Besides, Lorelei must have a huge wedding. Now that Lady Melissa has eloped, thetonwill want to see at least one large wedding this Season.” She looked at her cousin. “Have you decided on a date yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. Then we have plenty of time to get everything absolutely perfect.”
“Is a lavish wedding what you want, Lorelei?” Louisa asked.
She looked down at the floor. It was true that she’d dreamed of a huge wedding in St. Paul’s Cathedral. When Papa had died, her sister Emily had married the Earl of Woodhaven, so Lorelei could someday have that wedding. Juliana, too. And, when their fortune had been lost to debts the old lecher had accrued, Emily had taken them to Strae Castle with the intention of making the place profitable enough to provide a Season and a dowry.
And Fate—or maybe those Scottish faeries that she was beginning to believe existed—had finally smiled on her sister when Emily and Ian had fallen in love. Even Juliana had succumbed. There had been no big wedding for either of them, only the Scottishceillidh—a night of music and dancing for the clan.
With the blinding brightness of a lightning bolt, Lorelei realized a big wedding in a London cathedral didn’t matter. Love was all that mattered. And that was all she wanted. She shook her head at Louisa and took Alasdair’s hand.
