“Actually, I think we are all here.” Mrs. Montagu’s response was equally smooth. “Shall we proceed?”
They moved through various rooms, from an elaborate dining hall to an equally elegant ballroom, then on to the library and guest bedchambers, each of which had a theme with appropriate artwork to accentuate it.
“Finally,” Mrs. Montagu said as she led them to a small private parlor that they had not entered before and pointed to a painting dominating the wall, “This piece is on loan from the Academy of Fine Arts.”
The group gathered around. The oil was done in muted tones, showing a large tree to the left and a couple by the bank of a lake with rolling hills trailing off in the distance. A girl sat on the grass looking dreamy, her knees drawn up while a young man stood beside her, meeting her gaze.
Mrs. Montague gestured to the couple in the picture. “You will notice how the artist demonstrates the mastery of expression and anatomy.”
That drew giggles from several girls, since the artist had drawn him as quite muscular beneath tight breeches and an open shirt.
Melissa tilted her head. “He looks like Mr. MacGregor, does he not?”
Lorelei frowned. The man didn’t look at all like Alasdair. He didn’t have long black hair.
“His chest looks as though it’s hard as rock.” Melissa smiled a bit too smugly. “Somewhat like Mr. MacGregor’s feels when I dance with him.”
Beside her, Fiona snorted, but before she could say anything, Mrs. Montagu intervened. “Perhaps what we should notice is how attentive he is toward the young lady, even though they do not appear to be speaking.”
“Oh yes,” Melissa agreed, not perturbed by the subtle reprimand. “He is very attentive.” She cast a quick, sideways glance toward Lorelei. “From the things he says I am sure he does not want to disappoint me.”
Lorelei stared as Melissa’s lashes swept down and she blushed delicately—could people actually make themselves blush?—and somehow managed to plaster a smile on her face. She wasn’t about to give the girl the satisfaction of thinking she was jealous.
“Ye are describing my brother quite right,” Fiona said with a smile of her own. “’Tis Alasdair’s way with every woman he takes a fancy to.”
Melissa’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Perhaps in the past.”
Fiona widened her eyes in turn. “In the past? Have ye nae noticed how the lasses surround him at Almack’s?” She looked innocently at the other girls. “Have ye nae noticed that too?”
There were murmurs and a few blushes, since some of them had been circling him as well. Melissa’s mouth tightened and Lorelei could have hugged Fiona, but she wasn’t finished. Instead, she leaned forward a bit as though to impart a secret.
“To tell ye true, the Marquess of Westwood is the most attentive man I have ever met. He treats Lorelei like a royal princess, he does.”
Melissa’s mouth flattened to a thin line while Fiona smiled beatifically. “Doona fash, though. Alasdair will show ye a good time while he’s of a mind to do so.”
“I dare say he will,” Louisa intervened at that moment. “And I am sure we can say the same for Mr. Campbell and Captain Taylor and almost any of the gentlemen who sign our dance cards. However…” She gave a short nod of acknowledgment to Mrs. Montagu, who was looking rather bewildered. “Perhaps we should finish our analysis of the painting.”
“Yes,” the lady said quickly and pointed to the background of the oil. “You see how the scenery fades into the distance? It is symbolic of what is happening right now between the young couple is only a fleeting moment, destined to fade away…”
Mrs. Montagu went on, but Lorelei ceased listening. Was Alasdair only having a “fleeting moment” with Melissa? Or, was it going to be a relationship that actually developed and became permanent?
“I canna believe how nasty Lady Melissa was,” Fiona said after they’d returned home and were now sprawled out across the beds in their chamber while Louisa took a chair by the window. “Mrs. Montagu dinna look happy with her.”
“No, and I am sure if my mother had not stayed behind to study a picture in the upstairs hall, she would have taken Melissa to task for such rudeness.” Louisa looked thoughtful. “Melissa did seem to take delight in letting the other girls know—or think, anyway—that Mr. MacGregor has made some sort of commitment to her.”
Lorelei was pretty sure Medusa’s remarks were not just for the other girls. She had definitely looked atherfirst, as if to make sure Lorelei knew how interested Alasdair was. Worse, though, was if it were true. Even though she didn’t want to put the thought into words, she was feeling miserable.
“He seems to pay her extra attention at the dances…” She let her voice trail off.
Fiona snorted. “My brother dances with lots of the girls. Helikesdancing.”
“But how many has he taken for a carriage ride in the park?”
“From what Alasdair told me, it was her father’s carriage andshepicked him up, not the other way around.”
“Well, he also took her for an ice.” Her voice sounded pitiful, even to herself. “Remember, Louisa’s sister saw them?”
Fiona shrugged. “She probably tricked him.”
