Alec Mackenzie's Art of Seduction (Mackenzies & McBrides #9)(48)

Celia turned in confusion to where the duchess pointed, the image of Alec dissolving. “How can Edward be here? He’s in France with his regiment.”

Her mother heaved a sigh worthy of Lady Flora. “Well, now he is here. He is granted leave once in a while. He wishes to speak to you, Lord knows why.”

Celia hadn’t seen Edward since the Disaster, when he’d made it clear he thought her a fool. She’d hoped one day she could make him see her side of things, and they’d be friends again.

She rose on tiptoes to peer eagerly over the heads of the crowd. “Where?”

“Down that walk. He is dressed as Pierrot. Go on—be quick about it.”

The duchess pushed Celia in the direction of a tree-lined walk. Not many lanterns hung there, and deep shadows pocketed the way. But if Edward had come, wishing to speak to Celia away from Lady Flora’s crush, she’d brave the darkness.

She gathered her velvet skirts and hurried down the path.

When the first shadow closed over her, Celia halted, common sense cutting into her excitement. Why on earth would her mother arrange a meeting between the disgraced Celia and her darling Edward? If Edward wanted to speak to Celia, he’d simply come to the house, or have accompanied them to the gardens. Why don a costume and skulk about in a dark lane? There were easier ways of meeting with her.

Her mother was up to something, wasn’t she? The man waiting would not be Edward, but Lord James, and Celia would be caught alone in the dark with him by Lady Flora and all her friends. Once again, Celia would be forced to either agree to marry a gentleman or let herself be shamed.

Being found in yet another man’s embrace would clinch the opinion that she was a wanton harlot. Only marriage would save her from being completely ostracized this time.

In rage, Celia swung back. She’d thwart the duchess’s scheme and give her a scathing dressing down, never mind her upbringing to honor her parents. Her mother needed to learn a few things about honor.

A gloved hand came out of a black shadow and dragged her from the path. Celia drew a breath to scream, but another hand pressed over her mouth, and a voice sounded in her ear.

“Stop squirming, blasted woman.”





Chapter 15





Celia ceased struggling as Alec half dragged her more deeply under the trees. He wore a kilt belted at his waist, and his coat was red, that of a British soldier—most puzzling. A black tam rested on his head, a dark ribbon fluttering to his neck.

“I thought tartan was banned,” was the first thing out of Celia’s mouth.

“Not in the regiments,” Alec said, words clipped. “I borrowed this from a friend. It’s a costume, ye ken?”

Celia kenned nothing at the moment. “My mother is busy trying to disgrace me again. Mr. … Finn … will you escort me home? I’d like to speak to you.”

“No.”

She blinked. “I beg your …”

Alec tightened his grasp on her arm and guided her to a narrower walk, plunging them into darkness.

“Home won’t be safe for ye. I’m pulling ye out of this game. ”

Celia inwardly cursed her high-heeled satin slippers, beautiful to look at, horrible to walk in, especially when she had to move swiftly to keep up with the long-legged Alec. “Where else can I go? If you take me to any of my friends, they’ll simply send me back to my mother. They’ll regard it their duty.”

Alec halted and turned her to face him. “I asked you to trust me, aye?”

“And I have decided to. Rather against my common sense, but I feel you can be trusted Mr. … Oh dear, I don’t even know your real name.”

“Ye flatter me, but it’s time for me to decide whether I can trust you. You’ve done me well not rushing home and telling your father a Highlander had swooped down on Mayfair, but will you continue to keep quiet? I want to help ye, but I can’t at the expense of my family, or my own life. I have a daughter to look after.”

“I would never betray you.” Celia looked up at him through her mask, the black silk cool against her cheeks. “I have met cruel men, and you are not one.”

“Tell my brothers that.” Alec cupped her cheek, his leather glove warm. “If I trust you, and you trust me, we’ll go from here and be well out of it. You’ll be safe, and do what ye like, and be happy.”

Celia leaned into his touch. “Where is this paradise you will lead me to? It sounds impossible.”

“I don’t know about paradise, but you’ll be looked after.” Alec brushed a kiss to her lips, stroked his thumb across the mask. “Now let’s be off before your mum tries t’ get ye married to the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the Archbishop of Canterbury all at the same time.”

“You know about her wanting to marry me off to Lord James Spencer?” Celia asked as Alec took her hand and towed her along. “He was waiting for me down that walk in a Pierrot costume, I believe.”

“Aye, he was—probably still is. I was to lie in wait down another lane in the same costume, and Lady Flora was to direct ye to me. Your mum would think the correct man dragged ye off, while it was me absconding with ye instead.”

“Lady Flora wasn’t anywhere near me.” Celia quickened her steps, wincing as her shoes slipped and slid. “And you are not dressed as Pierrot.”