He drew her down a narrow street, stopping in front of a smaller shop. “Only what needed to be said. I told them the truth about what Strathland’s been doing to the crofters. And to your family.”
Juliette rubbed at her arms, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the dreary London weather. “Have they refused to buy from him?”
He shook his head. “There’s too much demand for wool. But I’ve convinced them to lower their orders. There are other sources of wool in Scotland. Men with no connection to Strathland.”
“Like your uncle?” she suggested.
“Donald has an estate in the north, aye. But his herds are small compared to Strathland’s. I only made it known that His Grace, the Duke of Worthingstone, would be quite offended if they purchased from the earl. Those who want his favor will find other sources.”
“Be careful,” she pleaded. “If he learns what you’ve done, he’ll seek retribution.”
“I’ve spoken only the truth.”
“Still—” She touched the sleeve of his coat, and he took her hands. At that moment, the hackney stopped and the coachman came to open the door. Juliette knew there was nothing more to be said.
“Come, Juliette. Put aside your fear, and let’s have a night to enjoy ourselves.” Glancing outside at her maid, Nell, he added, “And you, lass. You might be finding a handsome gentleman, if you smile and dance.”
The young maid flushed, but followed them. Juliette felt conspicuous in her gown as Paul led her inside the small pub. The few women she saw were dressed in dark woolen gowns and serviceable frocks that were more suited to servants. Already, several were eyeing her attire as if wondering why she’d come.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she said suddenly. “This isn’t right.”
“We’re going below,” Paul said, gripping her hand tighter. “Trust me, Juliette.” He took her to a small door that opened to a narrow stairway. From the cellar came the sound of someone playing the fiddle and pipes.
It was like stepping into a different world. The men and women were lined up across from one another, spinning and whirling. The flushed faces of the women were laughing, and there were even children dancing among them. A man who looked to be eighty was whirling with a girl of sixteen, his feet moving faster than Juliette had imagined possible.
“Does this no’ remind you of Ballaloch?” he said in her ear, for it was too loud to talk.
It did, except that these people were strangers. She felt herself wanting to slip into the background, to watch the young men and women. Here, there were none of the studied mannerisms and social barriers—only people laughing and enjoying themselves. In the back of the room, she saw some men and women sitting far too close to one another.
“What is this place?” she asked, standing on tiptoe to reach his ear.
“It’s a gathering that you’ll find far more entertaining, I hope.” He pressed his palm to her spine, guiding her inside. “You’ve naught to fear. No’ while I’m with you.”
“I feel very out of place,” she confessed. “Like they’re staring at me.”
“I’m staring at you, too,” he said. “And I think you ken why.” He guided her out to the line of dancers and said, “Dance with me, Juliette.”
“I don’t know these dances,” she protested, feeling overwhelmed by the people and the music. “Really, I shouldn’t.”
“It’s no’ hard. Just hold on to me,” he bade her, putting his hands on her waist and spinning her in circles. She grew dizzy from the fast movements, but when she stumbled, he lifted her up, swinging her around.
After two dances, she started to see the fun in it. The people moved with reckless abandon, struggling to keep up with the fiddler. Music filled the room, and in time, she lost sight of her self-consciousness. There was only Paul, and the way he guided her through it.
When she stumbled again, she laughed. “I feel like my feet are tied together.” The steps were impossible, but she mimicked the other ladies, struggling to keep up the pace. A lad of ten asked her to dance, and she indulged him, smiling brightly while he gave her a cheeky grin.
“Me name’s Rob,” he told her. “Rob the butcher’s son.”
“I am Miss Andrews,” she answered in a subtle reminder that she was far older than him.
Rob winked at her, spinning her faster. “I heardhimcall you Juliette.”
“I’ve known Dr. Fraser for years. And I’ve only known you for a few minutes.”
“I’d be glad if you knew me for years,” the boy said with a grin.
“Leave her be, lad. She’s already been claimed,” Paul said, intervening to take her back again. He gave her a glass of lemonade that tasted terrible, but she sipped it anyway, for she was thirsty from the dancing. Paul brought her a chair, and they sat together, watching the dancers and listening to the music.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked against her ear.
