Page 11 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

Lissie gazed up. It was her first glimpse of her noble cousin. She was dressed immaculately in long flowing robes, the very newest styles from Burgundy. Lissie could not help but widen her eyes to take in the expanse of flowing material—in silks and printed too—with fine furs slashed to reveal the scarlet beneath.

For a moment, the cousin hesitated, as if waiting for some reply. But Lissie was struck dumb right then. The lady waited as Lissie stared blankly. It was only afterward that she realized she was expected to curtsy.

"Sweeting, you must be parched. Come inside," the cousin cried. Her welcome was genuine but somewhat constrained. From the arching of her eyebrows, Lissie surmised that she was not impressed by Lissie's lack of etiquette.

Her imperious look only made Lissie freeze the more. Panic immobilized her, leaving her gaping on the doorstep. Distressed, her eyes cast down upon her humble riding hood.

Inadequacy swept through her. She was disheveled and dusty. Her hair unraveled from its caul and loosed everywhere. For a moment, Lissie hesitated on the step.

"Don't just stand there, sweeting," the cousin said, ushering her in.

Lissie's eyes met Malcolm's. Nodding, she entered haltingly. The lady-in-waiting took their things and showed them along the corridor.

The walls oozed wealth. From the ornately framed portraits to the silver candelabras, this house dripped prosperity. Lissie's palms prickled as she was shown into an abundant chamber. In its center, a homely fire roared, but in truth, nothing in this house was cozy.

All of it was designed to impress, and impress it did.

Lissie looked at the splendid chairs, plumped up with velvets and taffeta, and felt suddenly unworthy.

"Darling, have a seat," said the cousin, her smile unwavering. For the first time, Lissie met her in the eye. They were dark and appraising.

She burst into a sudden sweat. Perhaps it was coming in from the cold like that, but she was hot, a debilitating shakiness taking her. With no warning, she was in a near swoon.

"Elisabeth!" The cousin rushed to her side. Softly, an arm supported her, lifting her up. "Pray, be seated, Cousin," said the cousin. "You're in a near swoon, my dear. Ye must be famished." Concern poured from her. But there was something else. Behind the smile, her dark eyes were working on her, running up and down her tatty attire and well-worn cape.

"I-I," began Lissie. She couldn't remember the question. Panic took hold in her stomach, knotting and twisting it tight. This lady was judging her, no mistake. They all were, even the servants.

Especially the servants. Lissie watched them, their sly eyes covering her like slime.

"Dear?" asked the cousin, her sharp eyes swooping upon Lissie like prey. With her dark hair pulled into a heart-shaped headdress, she was more like a raven than a woman.

A servant brought in a cup of caudle. Lissie took the drink, allowing the sweet, milky liquid to work its magic. Suitably refreshed, she replaced the goblet on the table. "Thank ye, Annice."

Immediately, the expression on her cousin's face changed.

"It's Agnes, darling," she said, a little quickly. "Lady Agnes. Remember that, my dear. In England, we are a little more formal, perhaps more than in your parts."

Annice's eyes sparkled, revealing hidden censure. Lissie gathered herself.

"I beg thee mercy, madam," said Lissie, with what she hoped was enough humility. This seemed to please the cousin, who smiled benevolently.

"Pray tell, Elisabeth, I did not quite glean the reason for your arduous travails to our poor house. Quite what are you in London for?" asked Annice, her dark eyes capturing Lissie imploringly.

Our poor house. The place was a literal mansion!

Lissie's eyes opened widely. But then she coughed and composed herself. She had thought that her sister had explained her mission when writing to her. Perhaps she had not.

"I am to make a match, my lady," said Lissie, keeping her eyes cast down and on her lap. There was something about Annice's nonstop gaze that unnerved her.

The heat from the fire was stifling, touching her cheeks. She knew all too well she was the center of attention from all in the room and did not like it one bit.

"Match? As in, a marriage?" asked the cousin, her face shot with incredulity. Lissie felt herself blush. She had only just met this woman, but she had a way of making her ill at ease.

"Aye, mistress, a marriage, I am here to get wed," Lissie replied.

There was a silence. The knots in Lissie's stomach turned into snakes. Annice looked at her blankly.

"A wedding?" she asked limply, her eyes running once more the length and breadth of Lissie's person. She did not rein in her dismay.