“Ye have to make that decision,” Fiona answered, “but there is a ball on Saturday—”
“That I am not attending.”
“’Tis the problem, though. Lady Bute says if ye doona attend, ye will be admitting that ye are ruined. It will create more gossip.”
“And if I do go, I will be given the cut direct and shunned. Publicly humiliated.”
Fiona looked as though she’d just swallowed cod liver oil. “Nae if ye let Lord Westwood escort ye.”
“I cannot expect him to rescue me when I do not want to marry him.”
“Think of it as putting an end to the gossip,” Fiona said. “If people see ye together, they will cease to think ye screamed because he tore your gown.”
“They will assume we are betrothed because he has a reputation for being honorable.”
“Ye doona have to announce that.”
Lorelei knew it made sense and it was probably what Lady Bute was going to urge her to do as well. If she arrived with Randolph, no one would dare insult her. She did not want to lead him on although, she supposed, his offer had more to do with a sense of duty than anything else. But, even if she were totally honest with him—and she would be—there was still the huge problem of having to face Alasdair and Melissa.
Fiona seemed to sense her dilemma. “I doona think my brother wants to attend, either.”
“He has to, now that he’s betrothed to a duke’s daughter.” Lorelei bit her lip to keep the tears in check. “It will be the first huge event after the announcement. Melissa will not want to miss that.”
“He willna like it.”
Lorelei eyed her, then took a deep breath. “There is something I need to ask. Did Alasdair know the announcement was going to be made?”
Fiona’s eyes went round. “Nae! He was as upset as ye. Why would ye ask such?”
“Because I saw him on the Oakley terrace with Melissa and—”
“And ye thought he had arranged that?” Fiona looked heavenward as if for help. “I kenned I should have told ye, but my eejit brother—”
“Told me what?”
“What really happened that night.” Fiona then went on to explain. “But when ye refused to talk to him, he made me promise nae to say a word,” she finished.
Lorelei stared at her, hysteria rising in her throat. It came out as a gasping sob. Between hiccups, she laughed and then cried and then laughed once more before the tears flowed in earnest as Fiona moved beside her and drew her close.Lord. Lord. Lord. I have been such a fool.
“Alasdair is just as miserable as ye,” she whispered, even though there was no one else there to hear.
The words sank in, slowing her tears. Eventually she stopped sniffling and sat up, taking the handkerchief that Fiona handed her.Misery loved company, as the old adage went, but what good did that do?
Alasdair was still lost to her just as she was lost to him.
…
Alasdair heard footsteps pause outside the office door Tuesday morning and wondered if Mount Stuart had forgotten something. He’d been summoned to Westminster rather abruptly a short time ago. There was a quick knock, followed by the door opening, but it was Gavin Campbell who walked through.
He managed to suppress a groan. He didn’t need to get into another debate with him over the five hundred hectares’ land boundaries or which map plats were legal. Not today. He could barely function because he was still reeling from how cleverly the duke and Melissa had schemed and plotted to ensnare him. And he was still berating himself for what an eejit he’d been to get sucked into it. He didn’t need to make himself more of a fool by blundering into an argument with Campbell.
“As ye can see, I’m busy.” He flipped through a stack of papers as though he were going to work on them. “Now is not really a good time.”
“Now is as good a time as any.”
Gavin closed the door and took the chair in front of the desk, tilting it back. For a moment he studied Alasdair, assessing him as he might a new card player at a gaming table. “What is it?” Alasdair asked.
“You look like you have been to hell and back.”
