Page 23 of The Highlander Is All That

As they approached the unpretentious façade of the assembly rooms, Elizabeth focused on her demeanor, taking Aunt Esmeralda’s words to heart. This was her first official appearance on the social scene, and she did want to make a good impression.

She hadn’t expected to be nervous, but as they approached those hallowed doors, her heart kicked into a furious rhythm.

Anne squeezed her arm. “You’ll do fine,” she whispered, and Elizabeth sent her a grateful glance.

As they stepped into the grand foyer, they were greeted by an elegant lady with black curls. She was, undoubtedly, the aforementioned Lady Jersey. She caught sight of Esmeralda and her wintery expression thawed. “Darling,” she called, pulling their aunt into a quick hug.

“Sarah, darling. How are you? You look so lovely tonight.”

“Thank you, Essie. And you.”

“What have you done with your hair? It’s adorable.”

To which Victoria frowned and whispered, “I was supposed to get the hair.”

Esmeralda plowed on as though she hadn’t heard. “May I present my lovely nieces, cousins to the esteemed Duke of Caithness. This is Anne, Elizabeth, Victoria, and Mary. The famous St. Claire four.”

“It is a great pleasure to meet you all,” Lady Jersey said as they curtseyed. Her gaze then flicked to their escorts, and her nostrils flared. She looked them up and down, slowly, and then sniffed. “And where is the duke?”

Esmeralda shook her head and tsked. “His Grace could not come, sadly. A family emergency or some such. He sent these fine men in his stead to oversee the gels’ season.”

“I see.”

“Naturally, I was hoping to procure strangers’ tickets for them.”

Lady Jersey’s gaze once again flicked toward the bare knees. “Of course, you understand they will not be allowed to dance.”

“They don’t dance,” Victoria assured her, which earned her a glower from their aunt.

“They are, indeed, merely protectors of the gels. So necessary these days, don’t you know?”

Lady Jersey and Aunt Esmeralda shared a glance, a speaking one, evidently, because they both smiled in tandem as though Lady Jersey understood exactly what Esmeralda was about and approved thoroughly. “Their presence will create quite a stir,” she said.

“I am counting on it.”

“Very well. They may stand at the entrance, but may not attend the supper rooms or the ballroom.”

Apparently, this was just what Esmeralda had been angling for. “Excellent,” she gusted. And then, with no further ado, she herded the company up the stairs and into London’s “Seventh Heaven,” the esteemed Almack’s ballroom, leaving their stalwart protectors flanking the doors.

Chapter Six

“Does it seem wrong to you that they are not allowed in?” Elizabeth asked Anne as they made their way to the ballroom.

Anne lifted a shoulder. “It’s not unexpected. This is Almack’s.”

“I know. But it feels . . . wrong.”

“They’re Scotsmen. And hardly members of the ton.”

“Bower is titled.”

For some reason, this annoyed Anne. She frowned. “He’s still a Scotsman.”

“As is our duke,” Elizabeth reminded her.

“This is the world we live in, darling. High Society exists on another plane, like it or not.”

Elizabeth glanced around the ballroom at the glittering dresses, the men prancing in knee breeches and cravats, the upturned noses and patronizing titters. The room was indeed, stuffy, and smelled of sweat and pomade.