weakness. I have the utmost respect for a man or woman who admits when they’ve been at fault.”
“What would become of the world where opinions continually changed?” Miss MacKenzie asked.
“It would be a better world, Jen,” Fraser said.
Lilah flinched at his familiar address. Miss MacKenzie smiled and placed a possessive hand on his arm.
“Of course, dear Fraser, you’re always so understanding. But I would counsel you against the folly of inconstancy.”
“Jennifer, my dear, I trust you’ll never find me inconstant.”
“I do hope not,” she said, caressing his arm. Then she released him, took a seat on the couch beside the fireplace, and patted the space beside her.
“Do join me, Miss Hart,” she said. “I’m anxious to know you better.”
“Are you?”
The smile slipped. “Of course,” she said. “My Fraser mentioned you so often when he wrote, I almost believe we’re friends already.”
“Friends, Miss MacKenzie?”
“Oh, yes!” she said. “Please, if it’s not too forward, you must call me Jennifer, if I might be permitted to call you… What would I call you?”
Forward, indeed, but with three pairs of eyes on her, Lilah could hardly object. Dexter would have had a fit at such familiarity. But Dexter was not here. And something told Lilah it was better not to make an enemy of Miss MacKenzie.
“Of course,” she said. “You must call me Delilah.”
Miss MacKenzie linked her arm through Lilah’s. “How wonderful!” she said. “Fraser, my love, did you not hear that? Delilah and I are friends. Perhaps you might tell me about London, for I hear society is somewhat fierce there.”
“No fiercer than in Scotland,” Lilah said.
The smile slipped again, and Miss MacKenzie took another sip of whisky. “Ah, but at least the infamous Mr. Smith doesn’t reside here,” she said. “Now there’s a scoundrel if ever one existed.”
“Mr. Smith?” Lilah asked.
“Jeremiah Smith,” Mrs. MacGregor said. “Have you read any of his articles in the City Chronicle?”
“I-I may have read some,” Lilah replied, tightening her grip on her glass.
“Are you an admirer?”
“Certainly not.”
“I am glad of it,” Mrs. MacGregor said. “He must be a detestable man to write what he does, to say such horrible things about us.”
“Aren’t his remarks directed at the aristocracy in general?” Lilah asked.
“Then why does he always refer to the Molineuxs? Fraser has sent me every one of that man’s articles. I find them most distressing.”
“Then, perhaps he shouldn’t send them,” Lilah said.
“Would you have me conceal the truth from my mother?”
“No,” Lilah replied, “but those articles will make no difference to the world. They’ll soon be forgotten, and the paper on which they’re printed will line London’s fireplaces.”
“It’s always best to know what your enemy is thinking about you,” Mrs. MacGregor said. She smiled and raised her glass. “Perhaps we should talk about the writing of a pleasanter nature. Fraser tells me you’re something of a poet.”
Lilah shook her head. “I enjoy writing verse, that is all.”
“I hear you’re quite the proficient. My son praises your work highly and says you’re in the process of having a volume published.”
“That is my dream,” Lilah said, “but I fear your son has grossly exaggerated my talents.”
“I doubt that, my dear.” Mrs. MacGregor said. “My son is the most honest, truthful person I know. Of course, a mother’s love will render me biased.”
Mother and son exchanged glances, and Lilah’s heart tightened at the expression of love in his eyes.
“Your opinion is justified,” Lilah said. “From what I’ve seen today, he’s a man of integrity and is destined for success.”
“Quite so,” Miss MacKenzie interjected, her voice carrying an undertone of desperation as if she were unwilling to let the conversation flow without her input. “I’ve always said so, have I not, Fraser? I like to think that my unwavering support, together with your mother’s, of course, has encouraged you to pursue your venture outside of our homeland.”
Fraser nodded. Miss MacKenzie shot a glance toward Lilah and continued. “Of course, every successful man needs continued support. Where better to find it than in his homeland?”
Could the woman be any more obvious? If she ventured to London, she’d find a twin soul in the Honorable Sarah Francis. She possessed all the animosity that Sarah felt toward any woman she saw as a rival, together with the desperation which exuded from her every time an unmarried, titled man ventured within ten feet of her.
“To achieve success,” Miss MacKenzie continued, “a man must focus on his business interests whole-heartedly. He can only do that in confidence if he is assured that his home, family, are