Page 48 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

"Will, pray, come here. You are needed right away!"

His mother's voice cut through the melee, bringing Will to his senses.

It was a day or so later in the Rothingham Great Hall. But struggling to get awake, Will barely realized it. To him, it might as well have been the same long day. Because once again, he had drifted off. It was difficult not to. Nodding off had become second nature to him on these occasions.

"Um, of course, Mother," said Will, eyes darting about the crowded chamber.

Briefly, he frowned. The great hall was heaving; ladies clad in lavish dresses sashayed up and down on unsuitable chopines. For a minute, Will struggled to recall what was happening. Then he remembered; a banquet had been laid on in his honor. And all the eligible ladies of the town were invited. Of course, the idea had been his mother's, but reluctantly, Will had agreed to it.

Unfortunately, the duchess had taken it upon herself to curate a list of women that Will personally could not abide. Watching as they streamed in through the doors, Will hid a sigh. There they all were, the feather-brained fopdoodles of London.

Lady Matilda, Lady Alice, Lady Caroline...that other one, Princess Margarita of Something. Unsurprisingly, his mother was especially keen on this last one, despite the fact she was not even English at all.

"Will!" the duchess's voice was insistent, and Will, who found he was staring glassily off into the crowd, came to with a jolt.

"Will, I do not know what is holding you," his mother chided, pressing her way through the crowd to meet him. Now she jogged his elbow, looking at him pertinently.

Finally, Will looked around. Biting down his irritation, he smiled.

"Nothing, Mother," he reassured. His eyes had strayed to the ends of the room. She would be here soon, he felt sure of it. She had assured him.

"Good because you are to be seated here beside Lady Lettice Fortescue, only daughter of Lord Thomas Fortescue." She paused and smiled at the woman, then dropped her voice. "Their family owns half of Normandy, so kindly make her welcome."

Will smiled, trying his best to look attentive, but it was hard to stop his eyes from wandering. Besides him, an indignantly plump woman with pallid features and a stupid hat greeted him.

"Lady Fortescue," said Will politely, trying not to notice the wart on her upper lip. He bowed before her, causing her to shriek aloud.

"My friends call me Lettie," she twittered. "But as we are not friends yet, you shalt address me as Lady Lettice."

Will hovered uncertainly. Was she joking or serious? It was hard to tell. A few moments later, a shrill peal of laughter from across the table almost shattered his ears.

There, another lady, wearing a headdress so elaborate it almost toppled her head, shrieked with mirth, "My lord, you must work hard to win her affections—and ours as well. You neglect us."

This set the table off in a ricochet of laughter. Whatever the lady had said was apparently hilarious, although Will struggled to understand why.

"Dearest, do not neglect your other guests," cut in his mother, nodding imperiously at him. Will leaped. He knew that look. It was pure arsenic wrapped into a smile.

Will tried to smile, but in reality, his heart sank. He would never get used to this, although, by now, he really should be.

The horrors of the London "scene" had scarred him for weeks; hours of small talk with haughty women with whom he had precisely nothing in common.

"Furs?" piped up Lettice.

Will blinked. Did he hear that right? Looking around, he discovered that, somehow, they were already seated next to each other at the table. Not only that, but he was halfway through eating civet.

And beside him, Lettie, dabbing her lips, continued, "Furs, which suits best; fox, sable, or both?" she asked haughtily.

"They both suit the animal itself well enough!" answered Will unsurely. He did not know what kind of answer Lettice required, but from the hiss of laughter, he guessed it was not that one.

However, Will was not watching. His eyes were drawn suddenly to the end of the table, where out of nowhere, Lissie had appeared.

Will's heart convulsed in shock, and it was hard for him not to spit out the food he had taken. Internally, his organs shook. Everything was in an uproar.

Lissie was there, dancing and cavorting, for all to see—and all did see. The impression she had made on the room was tangible.

From across the table, one or two of the other ladies looked over, and feverishly, Will sensed jealousy in their eyes. It was easy to see why.

Lissie shone like a flame from the end of the room. She was so bright, it was almost impossible not to look at her. Will's mouth almost fell open at the sight of her long, blue gown. The color contrasted with her dark hair, bringing out the hue of her eyes to perfection.