Page 26 of The Highlander Is All That

Lady Jersey blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lady Elizabeth. She is no’ in the ballroom.”

“Is she in the supper rooms?”

“Madam, I am stationed at the door.” It was impossible to tell from here.

Her smile was slow. “Indeed you are.” To his shock, she hooked her arm in his and said, with a wink, “Come with me.”

He was unsure if this was a good development or a bad one. He shot a glance at Ranald, who lifted his eyebrows but did not budge from his spot as Lady Jersey escorted Hamish through the ballroom with her head high. Apparently a woman of her stature could do any damn thing she pleased, even hook arms with a Scottish savage.

The lords and ladies, however, did, ever so subtly, cut them a wide swath. Whispers rose. More than one eyed him as though he were a tiger on a leash strolling through their midst. He had to stifle the urge to growl at them, just to see them quail.

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to come to one of my soirees?” she asked as they turned into the supper rooms.

Hamish scanned the room, searching for a beautiful confection of black curls in the sea of the social elite eating cakes and sipping tea. His heart plummeted when he didn’t see her.

“I say?” Lady Jersey tapped him with her fan.

“Aye?”

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to come to one of my soirees? They are far more intimate than this, and a tad more interesting.”

He could only imagine. “Madam, I am here to escort the duke’s cousins. I will only be attending events with them.”

Her lips puckered. “My soirees are not appropriate for debutantes in the least.”

“I understand, but I must insist.”

“What a pity. I do hope you will reconsider.”

There was no response to that, so Hamish shook his head and said, “Lady Elizabeth is no’ here.”

“Oh dear. Wherever could she be?”

“Should we notify Lady Esmeralda?”

Lady Jersey glanced to the dais where the patronesses were seated, Lady Esmeralda among them. “She’s having too much fun. Perhaps we should search on our own.”

“I’m certain she would want to know.” His aggravation was growing, along with his concern. He wanted—needed—to know where Elizabeth was.

“Let’s just look around first.” She took his arm again—not in a polite manner so much as a proprietary one. “I have a thought.”

His unease rose as she led him past the supper rooms and down a much less populated hall. Another turn, and they were all alone.

“Here,” she cooed, opening a door of gleaming wood and ushering him into an elegantly appointed room. There was a fainting couch, a basin of water, and a screened-off area. His hackles rose.

“Is this the ladies’ retiring room?” Egads.

“Don’t be silly.” Her gaze was wicked. “This is a private retiring room.”

He paled and glanced around the room. “Lady Elizabeth is no’ here,” he said, though this fact was patently true.

“Oh. What a shame.” She kicked the door closed with her heel and stepped toward him. He backed away. And again. And again. Until he bumped into the screen and had nowhere else to go.

“Lady Jersey—”

“Call me Sarah.”