Pretender's Game

by Louise Clark

  They stopped for a moment to talk to an acquaintance who had hailed them. Thea couldn’t remember afterward what had been said, but she hoped she had not blurted out something stupid. Her thoughts had been all of James MacLonan. She was beginning to believe that she had acted too hastily. She said as much to Isabelle. Then she sighed. “But it doesn’t matter. Mr. MacLonan would never forgive my insults.”

  “How do you know?” Isabelle chided gently. “If you want to change the way things are, Thea you must try. Isn’t that what you have always told me?”

  “But how, when I am not speaking to Mr. MacLonan and he is not speaking to me?”

  “We must find a way for you to approach him. Or for him to approach you. We’re almost home. Let’s discuss it with Manna. She will know how it is to be done.”

  Hope fluttered into nervous life in Thea’s breast. “Do you really think she would be able to sort this out?”

  Isabelle laughed. “Of course. She always does, doesn’t she?”

  *

  They held a family conference that evening over which Sir Frederick presided, but which Arabella directed. As was usual in the Tilton household, everyone had the opportunity to voice an opinion. This was followed by considerable discussion, until Sir Frederick called closure and made the final decision. In this case he bowed to his wife’s suggestion that they should hold a party and invite everyone who was anyone to it. Sir Frederick would talk to Grant MacLonan to ensure that his son James would attend. Then it would be up to Thea to win James over.

  As the party was to be held within a sennight, there had to be a good reason for it, for it was unusual for parties to be given at such short notice. This too was simply managed. Sir Frederick had recently been promoted to the rank of lieutenant general, so it was decided that this would be used as the excuse for a celebration.

  With only a week to organize the party, Thea threw herself into the details and pushed thoughts of James MacLonan to the back of her mind. This was difficult, for she saw him often. He was always polite, but very formal, and Thea followed his lead. By the evening of her own family’s party she was quite certain that it was a wasted effort. She would never be able to rekindle the interest James MacLonan had once shown her.

  *

  James MacLonan was extremely reluctant to grace the Tiltons’ party.

  He stood in front of the blazing fire in Grant MacLonan’s salon with his hand on the mantel, watching the flames leap and dance. “I will not go,” he growled for the fourth time.

  His father thumped his cane. “Do you want to stay in Scotland, Jamie?”

  “Yes,” James said to the fireplace.

  “Then you will go! Think laddie. This is an opening, an olive branch from the Tilton family. Sir Frederick as much as told me so.”

  “Did he? And what exactly did he say?”

  Grant waved his son’s question away. “He made no promises, if that is what you mean, but he personally brought the invitation to me and added his own request that you attend. Go to the party, Jamie. Talk to Miss Tilton. She has all the necessary qualifications you need to meet the terms of your pardon.” He stopped for a moment. When James didn’t speak, he added, “You like her, do you not?”

  James stared into the dancing flames and thought about Theadora Tilton’s mischievous humor as she mimicked perfectly the bored drawl of a society dandy and pretended to take snuff. Or the fire that leapt from her eyes when she was outraged. Slowly, he said, “She is intriguing, sir, but she would not make a comfortable wife.”

  Grant snorted. “Comfortable! What sane man wants a wife who is merely comfortable?”

  James had to laugh. His father was right. He’d be bored within the week with a wife who waited for him to tell her what to do and then went out and did it. MacLonan women were spirited, fierce, demanding, and independent. He looked for nothing less in a marriage.

  He sighed and turned around. “Sir, Miss Tilton is English—”

  “Aye, that she is, laddie. That is why she fits the terms of your pardon. That’s the point of the clause that demands you wed a woman with a suitably Whiggish background. They don’t want you to marry a Highland girl and beget more Jacobite sons.”

  “—and she would not be prepared for life in the Highlands.”

  “According to her father she spent most of her life on his estate in Kent. She’s not unused to country life, Jamie.”

  “Kent is not Glenmuir.”

  “True enough, but neither here nor there. You can’t assume the girl would refuse to live at Glenmuir until you talk to her.”

  James bent to throw another log on the fire. He knew that he was making difficulties where none were required. Why was he doing that? He liked Theadora Tilton. Physically, he found her attractive. Of all the women he had met since returning to Edinburgh, she was the only one he could envision himself happily spending the rest of his life with. So why was he finding excuses not to go to this wretched party?

  “She is English,” he said at last. “Her father is a general in the English army. This party is to celebrate his promotion! How can I overlook that?”

  “When all is said and done, Jamie, she is just a woman and this party is just an excuse to allow you and Miss Tilton to find out if you can overcome your differences. Go, Jamie. At least talk to her. What harm will it do?”

  *

  “He’s not coming.” Thea waved her fan far too quickly and pretended to smile. “Isabelle, he’s almost two hours late. He’s not coming.”

  “Lord Staverton is here,” Isabelle said, smiling and nodding in that gentleman’s direction.

  “What does that matter?”

  “Well, they are great friends, you know. I should think that if Lord Staverton is attending a party, Mr. MacLonan is also likely to.”

  Thea laughed and shot her sister a knowing look. “Isabelle, Lord Staverton is here because of you. Now don’t blush! I know he finds you quite charming.”

  “Nonsense, Thea,” Isabelle said, sounding very much like their mother. She opened her fan to hide her hot cheeks.

  Thea laughed again, but the sound withered on her lips as a familiar male voice said, “Miss Tilton, what a pleasure it is to see you again.”

  She held out her hand numbly. Now that the moment was here, she was not in the least sure what she should do. “Mr. MacLonan. We are delighted you are able to attend our celebration this evening.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips with an elegant French flare.

  “It is my pleasure, Miss Tilton. The invitation is, I believe, something of an olive branch?”

  Thea snatched her hand out of his grasp. James MacLonan might have learned elegant mannerisms in France, but underneath he remained a forthright Scottish Highlander. She heard Isabelle murmur some excuse as she slipped away, but Thea was focused on James MacLonan. Her eyes snapped with annoyance at his bluntness, but she was duty bound to try to make amends, even though she had concluded that this evening was very likely a mistake. “Perhaps, sir, we should start afresh. I believe you were as surprised about my background as I was about yours. I said some words that were perhaps rather strong…”

  He pulled a delicately carved snuffbox out of one pocket, held his palm out, and flicked the box open with a practiced motion. Then he took a small pinch of snuff between two fingers. He paused and said in a bored voice, “Why, Miss Tilton, do you really think calling a man a traitor is likely to cause him offense?”

  Thea had to laugh. “As I recollect, you responded by stating you wanted nothing to do with an Englishwoman.”

  “Then we are even, madam.” James dropped the box back in his pocket and dusted off his fingers without taking the snuff.

  Thea observed that thoughtfully. James MacLonan, it seemed, was willing to make an effort to begin again, just as she was. “Mr. MacLonan, what we are we will always be. You are a Scot and a follower of the Stuarts. I am the daughter of an English general and the sister of a captain. By birth and belief I am loyal to King George
.”

  He caught her hand again. This time he gently rubbed his thumb along the soft skin on her knuckles. Pleasant sensations rippled through Thea.

  “I have nothing against the English,” he remarked. “I have been friends with the Viscount Staverton for years.”

  He paused. Thea found herself holding her breath, and had to deliberately remember to let it go. Finally he continued. “It is the politics that divides us, is it not?”

  “King George and his enemy, the Young Pretender. You are right, Mr. MacLonan, it is the politics that places the true barrier between us.”

  After one final silken stroke, he released her hand. Thea wanted to sigh with disappointment. His very public caress had given her sensual pleasure, but even more, it had given her hope.

  “And yet, what place does politics have between a man and a woman?” He watched her through hooded eyes, waiting for her reaction.

  The common answer would be none. Women had been used to solidify alliances between people of different political beliefs for time immemorial.

  Thea, however, was far from the marriageable pawn of tradition.

  “Beliefs, strongly held, are the essence of men and women. Since meeting you, sir, I have heard stories of your conduct during the rebellion.” Her lips curled into a rueful smile and her impish dimple peeped out. “I know I should not be listening to gossip, but… alas, I could not resist. I wanted to know what kind of man you were.”

  He raised his brows, somewhat cynically. “And common gossip gave you the answer?”

  She should have been offended. Instead she laughed. “Mr. MacLonan, you are not kind! Did I not hint to you that I was deeply ashamed of myself?” She tapped his wrist gently with her closed fan, her dimple very much in evidence. “You should not force a lady to admit outright that she has erred in listening to gossip. It just is not done!”

  He laughed, a deep appreciative chuckle that caused Thea’s spirits to soar in a mercurial way.

  “Miss Tilton, I beg your forgiveness.”

  “It is gladly given, sir.”

  James looked down at her, a faint smile still curling his lips. “I am intrigued, Miss Tilton, how the daughter of a good Whig general overcame her perfectly natural distaste for a man who was a traitor to England through listening to gossip. I think you were about to explain that deep dark mystery to me.”

  “You are a most determined man, Mr. MacLonan.” She pouted, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes. “You refuse to allow me to divert the subject away from my transgression.”

  “Others have made the same complaint, madam,” he said rather ruefully.

  Thea sighed in an exaggerated way. “Alas, I fear I must confess all.” She looked up at him again, her head cocked, and her eyes twinkling. “The truth be known, there is not much to tell. I was persuaded to listen to the history of the rebellion from the point of view of the other side. I began to see that you were an honorable man, acting according to your beliefs. In truth, I do not think you could have done other than to pledge your sword to Charles James Stuart when he raised the clans. You were only doing what your honor demanded.”

  Complete silence followed her words. Thea found herself searching his face, far too anxiously for her peace of mind.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he said very slowly, “Miss Tilton, I do not know how to reply.”

  She turned her head away. Gently he caught her chin, uncaring who might be watching them, then turned it so that she had to look up into his eyes. Briefly, his thumb stroked lightly, temptingly, along her skin.

  “I did not mean to hurt you,” he said softly, “but your words left me mute. It is rarely that a man receives a confession and a compliment phrased so gracefully. I only wish that my own explanation could be as elegant.”

  He caught her hands and squeezed them gently. Thea’s fingers tightened in his and something flared in his eyes, deepening the blue. Her heart pounded in response and she took a deep breath. Being near to James MacLonan was causing her body to react very strangely, in ways that she decided she liked very much.

  “Your own explanation, sir? I do not understand.”

  “Why I agreed to come to your party, Miss Tilton,” he said gently. “Why I borrowed Staverton’s snuff box so I would have a way of approaching you that ensured that you would be willing to speak to me.”

  “Oh,” Thea said, feeling quite silly, but wonderfully flattered. Her voice sounded breathy to her own ears. She wondered if James MacLonan had noticed her lack of composure. “Why did you do those things, Mr. MacLonan?”

  His eyes caressed her face. Slowly, he turned her hands so that the palms lay upward. “I could not get you out of my mind,” he said simply. Then he bent and kissed first one palm and then the other with a graceful flourish that spoke of the Continent.

  Thea’s breath caught as her heart began to pound, and a strange longing made her want to drift forever in the pleasure of his touch. “James,” she whispered.

  He looked up at her and smiled, then dropped her hands. Some of the tension that had kept Thea tight with anticipation eased, but not all. Her whole body continued to tingle with awareness of him.

  “I think, Miss Tilton, that we should join the dancing, or people will accuse me of monopolizing your company.”

  Thea’s lovely rippling laugh rang out. “One of the prerogatives of holding your own party, sir, is that you may bend, and even break, the rules. No one will condemn either of us for talking overlong tonight.”

  “Then I will not hesitate to monopolize you.” He took her hand and placed it on his arm. “Is there a place where we can be more private than this? Do you have any suggestions?”

  “My father’s study,” she said a little breathlessly, knowing that after the intensity of their conversation, she was not just breaking, but shattering, all of the rules. “We did not open it for the party tonight. We can be alone there.”

  Briefly, he hesitated. Then he smiled down at her in a way that was almost possessive. “An excellent suggestion, Theadora. I am yours to command.”

  She swallowed, then whispered, “Thea. I am Thea to my family.”

  His smile only deepened.

  *

  “A bit early to be in the country, I know,” Olivia Ramsey said as she and the Tilton ladies wandered down a gravel path in the manicured gardens at Ramsey House. She waved her hand somewhat dismissively at the soft earth edging the well-groomed path. “But the weather has been so warm for this time of year that I could not resist planning a quiet little weekend with some of my favorite people for company!” She beamed at Arabella, then at Thea and Isabelle. They all smiled back. Olivia Ramsey was as unstoppable as the winter snows, but she meant well.

  The Ramsey estate was located some distance from Edinburgh, beyond the thickly wooded wilderness of the Forest of Drumselch. Brendon Ramsey was town bred and had had no connection with the land when he bought the property from a Lowland laird whose addiction to spirituous liquor and gambling had destroyed his fortune. Brendon had torn down the small, two-hundred-year-old house and built himself a palace in the graceful Classical style that was so very popular in Europe and England. Though he had hired the best architect in Britain, imported marble from Italy, brought precious woods from the Indies, used only the finest local stone for the walls, and cut down most of the thick woodlands that edged the property, his very Classical house looked out of place amongst the rolling hills of Scotland. That did not matter to Olivia or Brendon Ramsey, however. In their eyes the house spoke of their wealth, the importance it bestowed upon them, and the triumph of civilization over the wild barbarism of the Highland Scots.

  “The Duchess of Argyll will be here for a day and night,” Olivia was saying with considerable zest. “She cannot remain longer, unfortunately, but I am delighted she was able to make space in her very busy schedule to attend my house party. She is bringing her young cousin. A charming girl.” Olivia shot Thea an amused look. “The duchess was not invited to your part
y the other evening, was she, Lady Tilton?”

  Thea blushed while her mother murmured a polite response. For the past week people had been making sly comments about her disappearance with James MacLonan. Speculation raged on how they had spent the hour they had been together alone in her father’s study. It was evident to Thea that few believed her protestations that she and James had sat before the fire and talked.

  She didn’t mention that James had held her hand throughout. Or that toward the end of their hour together he had kissed the sensitive underside of her wrist enticingly, then tempted her further as he continued the caress along her arm to the place where the expensive lace that adorned the sleeve of her gown fell in thick profusion. By the time he brushed the lace away for one final kiss Thea’s heart had been pounding and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. Then the kiss ended and he straightened, sitting back in his corner of the settee as if nothing had happened, until he smiled at her with tender intimacy.

  Though she would never regret slipping away with James, she had hoped that in accepting Olivia Ramsey’s invitation to her country estate she would escape the constant prying. It seemed that she was wrong. Olivia Ramsey was no more able to ignore the opportunity to meddle than anyone else.

  Olivia was saying airily, “George Drummond, our Lord Provost, will be here, of course, such a fine man! And the Honorable Mrs. Forrest will arrive today. Mr. Forrest will be joining her on Friday and will stay through Sunday. They have a daughter who will be entering society in the fall, did you know that, Lady Tilton?” Another amused glance at Thea. “A delightful girl, just eighteen and very beautiful. She will rival your lovely Theadora and Isabelle for the men’s affections, I wager!”