“You do not need to…fash?…about that,” Louisa replied. “My father was the prime minister, and my mother is English. Any persons who would dare give you the cut direct would find themselves quite out of favor for the rest of the Season.”
Fiona widened her eyes. “’Tis somewhat like what happens if ye dishonor a laird and the clan shuns ye?”
Louisa looked confused, but Lorelei smiled. “Something like that.”
“Do you have other concerns about the ball then?” Louisa asked.
Fiona exchanged glances with Lorelei before she spoke. “We need your help with my brother.”
“Mr. MacGregor? He seemed perfectly mannerly when he was here. I am sure he will have no trouble.” Her brows lifted again. “He does not like to fight, does he?”
Fiona giggled. “All my brothers do, but Alasdair is nae likely to start one, if that’s what ye are asking. We need help in pairing him with the right lass.”
Louisa smiled. “I do not think you have to worry on that account. Your brother is…pleasing to look upon.”
“Och, aye, he is that,” Fiona answered. “And he has a way with ladies, too.”
“Then what is the problem?”
Lorelei was beginning to wonder what the problem was, too. Orifthere was a problem. She certainly couldn’t deny Alasdair was…pleasing…to look upon. She was near certain that given his broad shoulders and ink-black hair, he’d turn every girl’s head when he entered the ballroom and probably half the mamas, too. And hedidhave a way with ladies. She remembered how easily he’d flirted with her—well, her sisters had accusedherof flirting withhim, but a girl did need practice—before he’d left for Ireland. Maybe so many girls would seek his attentions that he wouldn’t take notice of who she and Fiona danced with… “I am not sure—”
“Which lady would be best for him,” Fiona finished. “We want you to recommend someone who will attach herself to him.”
Louisa tilted her head. “You do not think that should be his choice?”
“It does not have to be permanent. Just someone who will distract Alasdair enough to keep him from following Fiona and me around,” Lorelei said.
“And it would be helpful if she were a rich heiress.”
Louisa’s brows rose again. “Is your brother interested in the possibility of inheriting a title?”
“I doona ken.” Fiona gave an airy wave. “’Tis nae important at the moment.”
“Then why that specification?”
“Alasdair is in London to sort through land claims, especially the ones held by Campbells, since their lands are next to ours. I ken your brother will help him, but the more important people he gets to meet, the more influence he may have.” She shrugged. “’Twill be easier to convince my brother to pay attention to a rich heiress if her father can help him get back our lands.”
Louisa looked to Lorelei and then back to Fiona. “And you are thinking he will be too busy to follow you around then?”
“Us. Follow all three of us around,” Fiona replied. “Wewill nae be able to go on our outings—and your Society meetings—as we planned, if he insists on escorting us.”
Lorelei watched as Louisa contemplated, her fingers drumming her book cover. They were practically blackmailing their newfound friend.Would she help?
It took another moment, but then Louisa took a deep breath and nodded.
“Lady Melissa Talbot.”
“The Duke of Oakley’s daughter?” Lorelei asked. She’d never met her, but she’d seen her. The girl was beautiful.
“Yes,” Louisa answered. “She meets the criteria and she cried off from her most recent beau, the Marquess of Westwood, whom she claimed was not ‘exciting.’ No doubt she will see Mr. MacGregor as a novelty.”
A novelty. And Melissa Talbot had rejected a marquess because he was not exciting enough? She narrowed her eyes. Just what kind ofexcitementdid the girl like? It would be easy for her to see Alasdair as such. In defiance of fashion standards, he wore no wig, leaving his long, dark hair unpowdered, and he didn’t fancy the frills and lace that other men wore. Highlanders had an air about them that they bowed to no one. How could Lady Melissa not find him exciting?
Even worse, Lorelei knew Alasdair liked a challenge. If the daughter of a duke had turned down a titled man, it would be almost irresistible for him to prove to the world—or at least theton—that she’d chosen a MacGregor instead.
Lorelei frowned. Much as she didn’t want to admit it—and yet, what could she do? It sounded like they would be a perfect match.
…
