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“’Tis the truth, ye do. Just remember to take yer cloak should ye go out into the night air, or yer neck will freeze.”

Ailie laughed. “That and the rest of me. Perhaps, I’ll confine any walks to the orangery.”

When she entered the parlor, filled with their guests, Ailie was glad she had taken care with her appearance.

“A lovely change,” said Emily, coming to her side. Her sister-in-law wore an ivory silk gown with a red shawl. Her ebony hair was curled around her face, a contrast to her alabaster skin. “I’m delighted the gown fits you so well.”

Emily ushered her to the other ladies standing to one side as Ailie thanked her for the gown.

“I will do a sketch of all the ladies,” remarked Kit, her dark red tresses the color of Ailie’s mother’s hair before it began turning gray. Ailie was surprised at Kit’s choice of gown, but the scarlet silk brocade was quite striking on her.

Mary left Hugh’s arm to come to join them. “I have never seen silk tartan before. It’s exquisite on you, Ailie.” Dressed like a young queen, Mary’s gown had been fashioned from pale green satin to which had been added a gold sash. Her fair hair was sleeked back and confined to her crown.

“You would pay me compliments,” Ailie said to the other women, “yet your gowns and hair are stunning.” Truly, Ailie was overwhelmed. Even the ladies in Aberdeen were not more elegantly attired than these.

Tara, Ailie’s kindred spirit, had set her informal clothing aside to don a silk gown the same color as her blue-green eyes. “I see we are all dressed in similar fashion for the evening,” she remarked. “The maids must have been busy.”

“I think it fitting we dress like this for your English Christmas,” said Ailie, “but for Hogmanay, which you call New Year’s Eve, you need not dress so elegantly. If the weather cooperates, we’ll be in Stonehaven.”

“Another adventure!” exclaimed Tara. “How exciting.”

Muriel left the men standing at the fireplace to join Ailie and the other women. “Why, you ladies all look like you are attending one of my balls.”

Emily gave Muriel’s gown a long perusal. “Are you certain you do not speak of yourself?”

The women fixed their gazes on Muriel’s golden gown. The bodice was trimmed in jet beads and the golden overskirt ended in stylish Vandyke points trimmed in the same beads and black silk tassels. Around her neck, she wore her customary pearls, only wound double to fall higher. Circling her silver hair was a band of crystals and, soaring above all, a large ivory feather.

“Oh, my,” said Mary. “You have quite outdone yourself, Countess.”

“This?” Muriel looked down at her gown. “Pshaw. It’s at least ten years old though, as I recall, it was unique at the time. My dressmaker copied the gown from one of those dolls she managed to sneak out of Paris.”

“It’s timeless,” remarked Kit, “as are you, dear Muriel.”

“Humph,” Muriel murmured, but Ailie could tell she was pleased. Ailie only wished Grandfather Ramsay could be here to admire her.

“Shall we join the men?” inquired Emily. “I do believe they are staring at us. Clustered together as we are, they might be reticent to approach, thinking we are engaged in some discussion fit only for feminine ears.”

“Childbirth, you mean,” said Mary. “You are right. We’d best go rescue them.”

With that, Ailie and Emily ventured forth to greet the men and the other ladies followed.

Nash greeted Ailie with an approving smile, his hazel eyes sparkling. “You are lovely.” In his eyes, Ailie saw more than just the compliment and fought her rising flush.

“I must agree with my brother,” said Robbie. “The Mistress of the Setters outshines all the ladies tonight.”

She accepted a cup of wassail from a footman. “Why thank you, Robbie, but I have seen them and I know you lie.” She shifted her gaze from Robbie to Nash, taking in their identical attire. Both wore green velvet tailcoats, ivory waistcoats and black trousers. “Did you dress this way to confuse us all?”

“’Tis a Christmas tradition,” said Nash, taking a drink of the cup he held. “We defy our family to try and tell us apart.”

“When we intentionally ape each other, not just in our clothing but in our speech,” added Robbie, “few can do it.”

Ailie was curious to know how alike the twins could appear. “What about your parents? Don’t they know their sons?”

Robbie exchanged his empty glass for another brandy from a passing tray. “Eventually they come to it after a bit of conversation.”

“Well, promise you will never try and confuse me. It would be most disconcerting.”

The twins hesitated, exchanging a look, and then said together, “We promise.”