Kilgannon Read Online Free PDF Page A

married nor to my knowledge produced an heir. I had seen him twice since my mother's death.
    "Is he in London as well!" Rowena asked.
    "No. My uncle lives on his estate at Grafton." "How interesting," she said, dismissing me as she turned to Alex with a smile and dimples, her head tilted. Alex chuckled.
    "And where, Miss Lowell," he said, imitating Rowena perfectly, "does yer uncle keep his money? At Grafton or in London?" Both Rowena and I looked at him in surprise. "And Miss Lowell, what will ye have for breakfast?" He leaned toward me, his eyes merry. "It's verra important that we know." He winked at me, and I laughed.
    Rowena narrowed her eyes but forced a smile as he turned to her. 'Tell me of the war in France, sir," she said, watching his lips. "Was it terrible? I have been told you were wounded."
    Alex's expression was bland now. "It wasna terrible, madam. I wasna there long enough to suffer."
    "Is that why you returned before the war is over?"
    "I wasna with the army. I returned home when my wife died."
    "Oh! How dreadful for you."
    "Aye," he said, and gestured for more wine. He watched the footman pour it as if it were very important.
    "You poor man! What happened to her?"
    "She sickened and died of a fever." Alex gave Rowena a polite smile. "Do you and the Marques have many children?"
    "None, to my regret." "Well, good luck to ye," he said, and leaned toward me. Rowena's eyes flashed, but her anger was quickly suppressed and I tried not to laugh. "Have ye been to Scotland, Miss Lowell?"
    "To Lothian when I was very little, sir, to visit Louisa's first husband's lands, but I don't remember much of it."
    "Then ye've never really seen Scotland." His eyes were dancing. "The Highlands are as like Lothian as the sun is to the moon. Ye must come for a visit. Ye might enjoy yerself hugely."
    I was laughing again. "I might at that."
    "Ye would. I'll speak to yer aunt about arranging it soon."
    "I've never been to Scotland either, sir," said Rowena. "Where do you recommend visiting?"
    I was addressed then by the man on my left and reluctantly answered him. I could not hear Alex's answer nor what he and Rowena continued discussing. For the next course I glanced at them when she laughed, which was often, and seethed when she put her hand on his arm while gazing into his eyes. I wanted to say something devastating to her but could think of nothing that would be appropriate at Louisa's table. I consoled myself with shooting her looks of disdain, which she never noticed. By the third course I felt much better, for Alex and I were engaged in an interesting discussion with people across the table about the future of the colonies, while Rowena talked with the very young man on her right.
    I watched Alex listening intently and nodding or arguing a point with our companions. His conduct was impeccable and his manner winning. He soon had them laughing and agreeing to some silly suggestion of his, and I sat quietly, entranced with his performance. He was at ease in the company, not at all the uncouth Scotsman he was supposed to be. Of course, I reminded myself, he was an earl, the tenth of his line, and no doubt had had some polish applied along the way that the ordinary Scot might not have. He answered my questions in a straightforward manner but with little elaboration, and I tried not to imitate Rowena. The man across the table asked if it were true that Alex traded with the Continent. Glances were exchanged as he said it was, and I watched it noted that the Earl of Kilgannon was in trade. There were few worse social sins than to be industrious.
    With the end of dinner my aunt's guests moved back to the ballroom, some men withdrawing to smoke. Alex, glancing at me, politely declined their invitation to join them. As she escorted her guests out of the dining room, Louisa paused behind my chair. "Why not go into the ballroom?" she asked, putting a hand on my shoulder. "The music is about to begin again."
    I nodded to Louisa, but when