Alasdair sighed, gave his dratted cravat one final tug, and went out the door to continue to play his sister’s—and Lorelei’s—game. For the moment, anyhow.
…
Rows of chairs had been set up in Lady Mount Stuart’s ballroom for the musicale. At the far end was the pianoforte and a harp as well as a violin laid across a chair. By the entrance was a cloth-covered table that servants would discreetly fill with hors d’oeuvres by the time intermission was held.
From her seat near the back of the room, Lorelei looked around at the gathering crowd. She was rather surprised to see how many men were in attendance, since these afternoon events generally drew only ladies. Some were proud and nervous mothers of the girls who would be demonstrating their skills and others were mamas who would need positive reinforcement of their offsprings’ performances at later recitals.
Fiona remarked on it as well, and Louisa shrugged. “The Season is just starting, so a lot of wives drag their husbands to these early events because it is easier to preview the current selection of debutantes in a smaller setting.”
“Aye. ’Tis like a horse auction where the buyers take a look at the mares before they are led into the ring.”
Louisa quickly turned her startled laugh into a cough while Lorelei tried not to smile.
“That is probably a fairly accurate description,” she said, “although not one that most of thetonwould appreciate.”
“Well, I’m beginning to…” Fiona’s words trailed off as Alasdair and Gavin appeared in the doorway at the same time. “Mhuire Maithar!”
Lorelei had heard that expression several times so she knew what it meant, but she didn’t think calling on the Virgin Mary was going to help in this case. The two men arriving at the same time couldn’t have been worse timing, and for a moment she wondered if they were going to try pushing and shoving to see who would go through the door first.
As luck would have it, Lady Melissa spotted Alasdair and sailed across the room to take his arm. “I have saved us a seat in the front row,” she said.
He looked like that was the last place he wanted to be and it probably didn’t help that Gavin thumped his shoulder and laughed. “You will be able to hear every note from there,” he said as he took a diplomatic step back. “I will just sit here with your sister.”
Lorelei didn’t need to interpret the dark look Alasdair shot Gavin as he walked away. If they had been outside, they’d no doubt be brawling in the dirt now, even though each of themusuallyexhibited perfectly good manners. But then, one was a Campbell and the other a MacGregor. Which, to Scots, was enough said.
“Is this seat taken?”
She started, not having noticed the marquess come in. Even as he asked, he was watching Melissa walking away with Alasdair. Lorelei wondered if he still harbored feelings for her, but she couldn’t ask. She smiled instead.
“You are most welcome to sit.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at Fiona and nodded at Gavin before turning back to her. “I see you prefer sitting near the closest escape route.”
Lorelei tried not to let her mouth twitch. Shehadpurposely taken a seat near the door. “Is it that obvious?”
“Probably not.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “But I like to be able to make a discreet exit if the program goes on too long.”
What he meant was if thetalentwas particularly awful. Girls who hit the wrong keys on the pianoforte, faltered with the tempo, or sounded more like a crow than a warbling canary. Not that doting mamas—or their friends who had daughters—would ever acknowledge it.
“I get somewhat fidgety if I have to sit too long.” She smiled again. “It seems we have that in common, Lord Westwood.”
His eyes crinkled a little at the corners. “I will tell you another secret, if you will permit me.”
Secrets intrigued her. “Of course.”
He leaned slightly closer while still keeping a proper distance and lowered his voice. “I despise being addressed asLord.”
That was a surprise. Most aristocrats loved having their titles recognized. Even dear Papa, who’d been a baron, though more interested in playing with his inventions than attending Society events, had liked being called a lord.
“It seems a bit awkward to simply call you Westwood.”
“I would like for you to call me Randolph.”
She felt her eyes widen. “Would that not be a bit forward of me to use your Christian name?”
“It might, except that I requested it.” He shrugged. “My friends call me by my first name. I would be honored if you did as well, as least when we are out of public hearing.” He cringed slightly as the first discordant note was struck. “Like now, for example.”
Lorelei tried not to giggle as the pianist began to play with a particularly zealous force. “I will consider it.”
