Kilgannon by Kathleen Givens

seen, Janice sniffed with distaste, declaring that he was too big and his chin too pointed. "It's uncivilized that he won't wear a wig. He wears those ridiculous clothes and has children. And," she paused for emphasis, "he trades with other countries."
    "Indeed he does," I had laughed. "That alone has stopped me from marrying him already." But Janice had not been amused. I sighed and sat quietly, dreaming of Westminster Abbey while she explained yet another reason that Alex was unsuitable.
    Nine days went by faster than I could have imagined. Will and Betty went home to Warwickshire as planned. I had been scheduled to go with them but begged to stay in London for another week. On the tenth day I refused all invitations and stayed at home the entire day, pretending to read. No one came to the house, no one brought a message, and I told myself that ten days was how long Alex would be gone. I really couldn't expect to hear anything until the eleventh. On the eleventh day I told myself that I'd hear any moment. On the twelfth I was bursting into tears unexpectedly all day, making speeches in my head and calling myself the world's greatest fool. I was grateful that Will was gone to Mountgarden, for he'd have something to say to me about this. Late that afternoon, with both Louisa and Randolph gone, I walked aimlessly in the gardens and turned at the sound of shoes on gravel to see Bronson approaching me. He wordlessly handed me a letter, his disapproval obvious. I did not recognize the writing, but the note carried the MacGannon crest, and as Bronson left I ripped it open.
    It was not from Alex. Angus had written to me instead, giving his apologies. Alex, he wrote, was ill and not able to visit me. He would call on me when he returned to London. I read the note four times before I started crying, and then it took mean hour to decide what to do. I reasoned that the situation was one of two. Either Alex was indeed ill or he was avoiding me. Whichever it was, I decided, I would see him and find out.
    I ran the three houses to Becca's and pounded on the door. If I'd been entirely rational I would have been more circumspect, I'm sure, but that was beyond me at that moment. Her parents were with Louisa and Randolph, and Lawrence was somewhere with his family, so she was alone. When I explained what had happened and what I proposed to do, she argued with me. I burst into tears. Within minutes we were heading for the docks. I'd insisted that she stay behind, but she'd refused, stating firmly that either she came along or
    I had no carriage. I knew my reputation would indeed be in tatters if we were discovered and was willing to take the risk myself, but I did not want Becca to suffer in any way for my indiscretion. We argued as we drove.
    After some reluctant searching, Rebecca's man discovered the Gannon's Lady, which I knew must be the ship. I ran down the dock, heedless of the curious looks from the sailors, and was about to run up the gangplank when I was stopped by an imperious voice asking us what we were doing. Becca, close behind me, bumped into me, and by the time we had sorted ourselves out a familiar laugh rang out above us. I froze: Alex was laughing at us. Dear God, he was well and I was indeed the world's greatest fool. I looked up and into blue eyes, but they were not his, and I said a quick prayer of thanks as I watched the man. He was like Alex, but different. Alex was tall and lean, with wide shoulders and a trim waist, and this man was tall and square. His chest was wide, his face very like Alex's, but fuller. It was an interesting mix of features. If I had not known Alex so well I might have taken this man for him.
    "You must be Malcolm," I said, my voice sounding much calmer than I felt. His surprise was evident.
    "And ye can only be the Miss Lowell my brother talks about every minute." He smirked. I disliked him at once. Something in the way he'd said that—so contemptuous of Alex—and the way he looked at Rebecca