Return of the Scot (Scots of Honor #1) - Eliza Knight Page 0,37

but at least they showed off the muscles in his legs. That was one thing he wanted—to show he was still the strongest fellow in the room.

At the base of the stairs with Mungo beside him, his guests were introduced and filed into the ballroom. One face after another in a blur. The only ones he was happy to recognize were Alec Hay, Euan Irvine, and his cousin Malcolm.

When at last he was set free from the tediousness of greeting every guest he wished had declined the invitation, he sought out his friends and cousin.

“Took ye long enough,” Malcolm teased.

“If I have to smile and tell one more mother that her daughter is a vision, I’ll hang myself.” Lorne tugged at the collar of his shirt, wishing he could at least take off the cravat.

“Your ball is the talk of the town and will likely be the talk of London soon. Even my barber was talking about it,” Alec murmured. “Nearly cut off my ear when I mentioned I was going.”

Lorne chuckled. The four of them stood in the corner, observing the dance floor, as the small orchestra he’d hired for the occasion struck up a familiar song.

“Are ye no’ dancing?” Euan asked, looking nervous as if he expected to be accosted by several of the mothers salivating on the sidelines.

“I’ve no interest.” Lorne watched men gather ladies and pull them to the center of the floor.

“But it is your ball. Ye’ll be expected to.”

“And they’ll be disappointed. I supposed I can no’ interest any of ye in a fight instead?”

“Do ye think they’d notice if we went missing?” Malcolm asked.

Lorne let his gaze slide over the crowd. “Aye,” he answered, disheartened. Nearly every eye was on him rather than the dancers, obviously assuming him to have chosen a partner for the first whirl.

“Why no’ pick an older woman to be your dance partner,” Euan suggested. “A widow, perhaps?”

“Or someone’s granny?” Malcolm teased.

Lorne grinned. “That’s no’ a bad idea.”

“My grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Errol, is here chaperoning my cousins,” Alec offered. “I’ll make the introductions.”

Lorne nodded, following his friend to find an older woman sipping punch.

“My lady,” Alec said. “Might I introduce ye to the Duke of Sutherland? He has requested your hand for this dance.”

“Mine?” the dowager sputtered, flicking open her fan. “Och, but I’m too old to dance.”

“A lady is never too old to dance. It would be my honor to have ye on my arm,” Lorne said, bowing to Alec’s granny.

“Well, if ye insist.” The fan snapped closed.

“Oh, I do.”

He took the older woman by the arm and led her out to the dance floor, joining the others. At the far end of the line, Euan had brought out his partner and Malcolm the same, both of them looking sour as hell. Alec, meanwhile, gloated on the side.

Well, here went nothing.

As much as Lorne thought he’d hate dancing, the dowager made it fun by whispering bits of gossip each time they were paired to turn and nodding in the direction of whoever she was speaking about as they broke apart.

“Ye’re utterly charming,” Lorne said, leading her off the floor when the dance ended.

“If only I were younger,” she said with a mocking wistful sigh.

Lorne chuckled. “No one else would stand a chance. I thank ye for allowing me this dance, my lady. I simply could no’ choose between all the twittering ninnies, and I much prefer the company of a mature woman.”

Granny flashed open her fan and waved it in front of her face. “Ye’re a charmer, Your Grace. And, I might add, it is good to have ye back alive.”

Lorne pressed his hand over his heart and bowed. “Thank ye, my lady.”

He retreated from the dowager, made his way back to the corner and stopped more times than he cared to be introduced to one debutante after another. He was nearly there when Mungo’s voice boomed out of the crowd and stopped Lorne dead in his tracks.

“Miss Jaime Andrewson and the Viscountess Whittleburn.”

Jaime stood at the entrance to the ballroom, all eyes on her and her aunt, who’d made a sneak attack visit that morning to inform her that she was not going to the ball alone. It was most unfortunate and rather irritating. Jaime was a grown woman and perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

But Jaime suspected the true reason her aunt had come up from London was that she wanted to be at the ball that was garnering all the talk of