special about her night with Jack. She swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on what Lady Kenton was saying.
“It started with that wretched girl Dulcibella,” Lady Kenton said. “Oh how I wish your brother had not eloped with her! She is quite the most unpleasant creature, all smiles and sweetness on the surface and as vicious as a snake underneath!” Lady Kenton glared at her champagne glass. “She has always been jealous of you and she commented to Lady Dornie a few months ago that you were looking rather plump.”
“I remember the occasion,” Mairi said. “It was a fancy dress ball. Those Roman drapes billowed a great deal in the wind.”
“Indeed they did,” Lady Kenton said. “And then there was the wrap-over pelisse you wore at the Grahams’ supper. The colors were divine, but the cut made you look as though you were hiding an entire family of orphans beneath your skirts.”
“I can see where this is taking us,” Mairi said a little grimly. The hollow sensation in her stomach was spreading. “There was also that huge muff I carried during the snow in March. I did like it and it was in the height of fashion—but it was immense.”
“Sufficient to conceal a bump,” Lady Kenton lamented. “Then...” She fidgeted. “Well, there was Lady Durness’s masked ball.”
A chill shiver touched Mairi’s skin.
“You left with a gentleman,” Lady Kenton whispered. She leaned forward, dropping her voice still further. “You were seen. ”
It was the cardinal sin. Discretion was all. Mairi knew she could be as licentious as she chose as long as she did not get caught. And she had been, fair and square.
Hell and damnation .
“I’m not sure he was a gentleman,” she said.
Lady Kenton gasped. “You mean the gossip was true? All of it? The affair? The pregnancy? The child? ”
Mairi stared at her in disbelief. “Of course not—”
“You have been out of town for three months,” Lady Kenton hissed. “You were seen in an intimate situation with a man. You were getting fatter. And now you are thin. First fat, now thin!” She fixed Mairi with a plaintive gaze. “You can imagine what everyone is saying, my love. They imagine an affair that has been going on for some time, they have seen you with a lover and they are sure you have borne a child to him!”
Mairi gulped down some champagne. This was all far, far worse than she had imagined. She needed time to think. Most of all she needed time away from the spiky glances and the scandalous tongues, but there was no chance of that, not in Lady Dornie’s orangery with all the members of the Highland Ladies Bluestocking Society waiting to pounce on any scrap of information. That was the trouble with bluestocking writers. If there was a gap in their knowledge, they would simply fill it with fiction.
“People have too much imagination and too much time to gossip,” Mairi said. “To have built so much on so little.” She looked at Lady Kenton, who was cravenly avoiding her gaze. “Dear ma’am,” she burst out, “surely you cannot believe this nonsense?” Then as Lady Kenton did not immediately reply: “What else are they saying? That I gave the baby away?”
Her voice was rising with anger, but inside she felt a wash of desolation. She would have given anything to have a child. The very last thing she would ever have done would be to give her baby away.
She saw Lady Kenton cast a swift glance around and gesture her to be quiet.
“It’s nonsense,” she said again, this time keeping her voice discreetly low. “You know it. I might have spent the night with a lover, but that is all.”
“Of course,” Lady Kenton said, effortlessly changing her tune. “Dear Mairi, of course! And there is no question of you being ruined by this. You are not a debutante. You are a widow and more importantly you are the daughter of a duke. Your status alone ensures that people would never give you the cut direct. And you are rich. Which means that no
“It started with that wretched girl Dulcibella,” Lady Kenton said. “Oh how I wish your brother had not eloped with her! She is quite the most unpleasant creature, all smiles and sweetness on the surface and as vicious as a snake underneath!” Lady Kenton glared at her champagne glass. “She has always been jealous of you and she commented to Lady Dornie a few months ago that you were looking rather plump.”
“I remember the occasion,” Mairi said. “It was a fancy dress ball. Those Roman drapes billowed a great deal in the wind.”
“Indeed they did,” Lady Kenton said. “And then there was the wrap-over pelisse you wore at the Grahams’ supper. The colors were divine, but the cut made you look as though you were hiding an entire family of orphans beneath your skirts.”
“I can see where this is taking us,” Mairi said a little grimly. The hollow sensation in her stomach was spreading. “There was also that huge muff I carried during the snow in March. I did like it and it was in the height of fashion—but it was immense.”
“Sufficient to conceal a bump,” Lady Kenton lamented. “Then...” She fidgeted. “Well, there was Lady Durness’s masked ball.”
A chill shiver touched Mairi’s skin.
“You left with a gentleman,” Lady Kenton whispered. She leaned forward, dropping her voice still further. “You were seen. ”
It was the cardinal sin. Discretion was all. Mairi knew she could be as licentious as she chose as long as she did not get caught. And she had been, fair and square.
Hell and damnation .
“I’m not sure he was a gentleman,” she said.
Lady Kenton gasped. “You mean the gossip was true? All of it? The affair? The pregnancy? The child? ”
Mairi stared at her in disbelief. “Of course not—”
“You have been out of town for three months,” Lady Kenton hissed. “You were seen in an intimate situation with a man. You were getting fatter. And now you are thin. First fat, now thin!” She fixed Mairi with a plaintive gaze. “You can imagine what everyone is saying, my love. They imagine an affair that has been going on for some time, they have seen you with a lover and they are sure you have borne a child to him!”
Mairi gulped down some champagne. This was all far, far worse than she had imagined. She needed time to think. Most of all she needed time away from the spiky glances and the scandalous tongues, but there was no chance of that, not in Lady Dornie’s orangery with all the members of the Highland Ladies Bluestocking Society waiting to pounce on any scrap of information. That was the trouble with bluestocking writers. If there was a gap in their knowledge, they would simply fill it with fiction.
“People have too much imagination and too much time to gossip,” Mairi said. “To have built so much on so little.” She looked at Lady Kenton, who was cravenly avoiding her gaze. “Dear ma’am,” she burst out, “surely you cannot believe this nonsense?” Then as Lady Kenton did not immediately reply: “What else are they saying? That I gave the baby away?”
Her voice was rising with anger, but inside she felt a wash of desolation. She would have given anything to have a child. The very last thing she would ever have done would be to give her baby away.
She saw Lady Kenton cast a swift glance around and gesture her to be quiet.
“It’s nonsense,” she said again, this time keeping her voice discreetly low. “You know it. I might have spent the night with a lover, but that is all.”
“Of course,” Lady Kenton said, effortlessly changing her tune. “Dear Mairi, of course! And there is no question of you being ruined by this. You are not a debutante. You are a widow and more importantly you are the daughter of a duke. Your status alone ensures that people would never give you the cut direct. And you are rich. Which means that no