A Mackenzie Family Christmas: The Perfect Gift(28)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

Very silly, Louisa thought. She’d seen how happy Isabella had grown under Mac’s rather indecorous attentions. Anytime Isabella was caught kissing her husband, she blushed rosy pink, but not with shame.

Come to think of it, Isabella and Mac weren’t in the ballroom at all. Ian and Beth stayed in a corner, Beth conversing with Elliot McBride and his wife, Ian drinking whiskey and pretending to converse. Louisa craned to look around the room. Ainsley and Cameron danced, Hart strolled about, talking to guests alone, Eleanor having retreated again to her bedchamber. Daniel . . .

"Dance with me, Louisa."

Daniel didn’t give Louisa much chance to refuse. He pulled her to her feet and swung her into the waltz in the space of a breath.

He danced with the exuberance of his father, but with the vigor of a boy. Louisa spun around and around, and she began to laugh.

"Did you feel sorry for me?" Louisa asked. "The poor wallflower?" Wallflowers were able to observe much, however, such as which gentlemen might be eligible at the marriage mart come spring.

"No, I saw a beautiful woman who should dance. Ah, Louisa, if I were a wee bit older . . ."

"You would still not be ready for courting," Louisa finished.

Daniel laughed. "Aye, that’s so. I have a few wild oats to sow yet."

Louisa laughed with him. It was impossible not to like Danny. "Not the most complimentary thing to tell a young woman who’s condescended to dance with you."

"No, but you’re family. I have no secrets from you."

"I’m not sure whether to be flattered or frightened."

"Flattered, love. It’s not everyone gets to be welcomed into this family. Most run far from us or refuse to like us. Can’t think why."

"You’re ridiculous, Daniel Mackenzie."

"Ah, she cuts me to the quick. You are lovely, Louisa. Remember that. Worthy of any gentleman who chooses you. And the Mackenzie family embraces you with open arms."

Louisa’s eyes narrowed. She wondered whether Isabella had spread the news that Louisa wanted to marry, but she squelched the thought. Isabella wasn’t one to betray confidences from her sister.

No, she wasn’t sure what Daniel had in mind. She also noticed he’d danced her to the far end of the ballroom, near the open doors to the corridor beyond. The music ceased, the dancers applauded the musicians, and they drifted from the floor to wait for the next set, probably a Scottish reel Louisa still hadn’t learned.

"Shall I fetch you an ice?" Daniel asked. "Walk ye back to your mother? Kiss you in the corridor? The mistletoe is just there, see?" He pointed to the sprig hanging down from the chandelier in the middle of the deserted hall.

"No, thank you, to any of those," Louisa said. "I hear the fiddles going for a Scottish tune, which you might want to run off and join."

Daniel stood tall and looked down his nose at her. "A gentleman does not desert a lady."

"This lady prefers to walk in the cool hall a moment, alone. You do rather dance one’s breath away, Danny."

Daniel executed a deep bow, ruining his dignified look by breaking into a wide grin. "M’ heart shatters that you send me away, but never let it be said I pushed my attentions onto an unwilling lady. Good evening, dear Aunt-in-law."

So saying he whirled, kilt swinging, and ran back for the ballroom, narrowly missing a footman carrying a tray of champagne.

Louisa walked on down the hall, trying to slow her breathing. She’d sent Daniel away not only because she wanted to recover from the dance, but because she’d glimpsed a man in black disappear down this hall, one who looked like a Mackenzie and not at the same time.

But he’d vanished, to her disappointment. Ah, well. Probably for the best. But it would have been nice to speak to him one last time before she and Mama departed for London to prepare for the Season.

Perhaps he’d gone into the sitting room at the end of the short hall, beckoning with its open doors. She avoided the place where the mistletoe hung and made for the sitting room, satin skirts in hand.

The room was empty. A fire had been lit here for the guests, but the guests remained in the colorful ballroom. The hall bent beyond the sitting room, she saw, ending in a flight of dark steps leading upward.

Louisa hid a sigh. Likely Mr. Fellows had gone upstairs, retiring to his chamber. She knew that he felt a bit out of place among the Mackenzie guests, as Louisa sometimes did herself.

She turned firmly away, ready to return to her mother and put the man out of her mind . . . and ran straight into Mr. Fellows.

"Oh." The word escaped Louisa’s mouth before she could stop it. "I mean, good evening, Mr. Fellows."

Fellows took a step back, then he bowed, the bow stiff, as though he forced himself to remember conventional politeness. "Lady Louisa."

"It’s . . . well . . . I . . ." At supper she’d been able to be gracious and decorous, but now her polish and training deserted her. She roved her gaze over him, trying frantically to think of something to say, then she looked again. "You’re wearing a kilt."

Mr. Fellows spoke in his usual dry tone. "Hart Mackenzie’s gift to me."

"You weren’t wearing it at supper."

"His wife persuaded me to don it for the ballroom. However I doubt there will be any Scottish dancing for me."

"Nor for me. I haven’t yet mastered the steps."

Mr. Fellows cleared his throat. "Then perhaps you would like to sit?"

He gestured to the chairs placed about inside the sitting room, each of them a polite distance from the others.

Mr. Fellows did not want to sit down with Louisa. She saw that in his stance, in the tightness around his eyes, in the way he wouldn’t look directly into her face.

Louisa remained where she was in the doorway. "Such a shame that you must return to London tomorrow. That you cannot spend New Year’s with us."

"Unfortunately, the criminals of London do not stop for the holidays. I have a continuing investigation for which my governor wants a result before the new year."

"Perhaps we shall see you in London in January, then. Mama and I will be spending the Season there. With Isabella and Mac."

"Perhaps," Fellows said, his voice going still more dry. Unlikely that a Scotland Yard inspector would cross paths with a society miss. He knew this, as did she.

"Yes, well." Louisa fell silent, and he went quiet as well.

How foolish, Louisa’s rapid thoughts went. Two grownup people with connections to the same family, standing and staring at each other. Surely we can speak of the weather if nothing else.

But no sound came from her throat. Louisa knew that when Mr. Fellows walked away, when he left the house early in the morning to begin his journey south, she would not see him again. Not for a long time, and then only at family gatherings where they’d again be awkward and overly polite.