Page 25 of A Highland Lass for the English Duke

"Me," she mouthed. Why didn't she speak to him? Was there something wrong with her?

Will shook his head as the girl replied, "Elisabeth." She smiled. "That's me!" She kept her voice in a low whisper, but it crackled with amusement. Then, just as he was digesting this info, she suddenly took off into the crowd and was gone.

"Elisabeth?" mouthed Will limply. He took the paper, scrutinizing it for the first time, and read the name again. "Lady Elisabeth? Perchance Lissie."

Will was open-jawed. He could not believe that this was the lady he had been chasing all along! Beneath his breath, he gave a low whistle.

Then, a thump below the shoulder blades made him suddenly turn around.

"Will!"

Will looked. Of course, it was Trenton, looking more than usually pleased with himself. Which was a lot.

Behind him was a pudding-faced wench. Will recognized her vaguely, but did not know her name. She kept her distance, giggling.

"Tally ho! So, you found her, the little Scottish hen?"

"Scottish?" Will asked. He had not been expecting this. Then again, he could barely hear her, and she had not given anything away about herself. Hoping she had not heard herself being discussed so bluntly, Will glanced about.

The girl was gone. A mixture of relief and disappointment flooded him. But he had questions.

From deep in his heart, something stirred. Why was it significant that she was Scottish? He did not know, only that in his heart, he felt nothing would come of it.

Even if there was a chance, he did not imagine his mother approving of such a match.

"Och aye!" said Trenton, taking off the Scottish accent. "Quite the curiosity, what ho!" he quipped. Will noted it was Trenton's usual type: posh, mousy, and with flanks on her like a Flemish mare.

"I-I could not hear her speak," said Will, wondering bleakly where she had gone. The dancing had recommenced, and a steady trickle of females was waiting to pair with him.

One of them—Lady Eleanor's daughter, Tilly—was first in the queue.

"She was a little hoarse," Will explained.

Trenton nudged Will swiftly.

"And here comes another!" he said with a grin.

"Lady Matilda," Will exclaimed, smiling. Trying his hardest to look pleased, he led the stiff girl into the dance, but could not help comparing her heavy step with Lady Elisabeth's graceful demeanor.

Dutifully, he danced with her, his mind on other things. Where had the Scottish girl disappeared to? And why did she run away like that?

Will's sense of intrigue stirred. There was much he wanted to know about this strange girl. But would he ever see her again?

CHAPTER 6

"Truly, London is nae what I thought it would be."

Lissie sighed as she lingered by the entrance to the manor house. It was another ball; another noble house; another long night in deeply uncomfortable chopines. The night was young and promised to sparkle, but not for Lissie's poor feet.

Unless it was with blisters.

Because only a few weeks after arriving in town, Lissie Duncan was tiring of London life. And her feet definitely were.

"Och," Lissie pouted, as a group of ladies passed her by. As they went, some turned, giving her a haughty glance before looking away.

Lissie sighed. "I am nae but a joke here," she lamented to herself.

Balefully, she looked down. Her attire was correct. She had just the right length of houppelande on, crashing to the ground in a vivid splash of color. Her headdress had been chosen by Annice—of course—and pinned into sheer perfection.