“Well, I cannae make sense why folk gather as ‘friends,’ as they say, yet end up gossipin’ behind each other’s backs and feedin’ their own ambitions.”
“Well, now you must tolerate that. You are trying to find alliances that can help you with your father’s issues,” his friend reminded him.
With a barely audible sigh, he looked at the center marquee in the well-manicured lawn. It was mid-afternoon and the sunlight was at its brightest. Alasdair had to admit that the view was pleasant, but nothing he could think of to replace the hills he grew up in.
The Duke of Redmoor knew that it would be unfair to think of everyone in London as terrible, buoyed by their wealth and title. He did meet Seth, who had been trying his best to help him in every step of the way.
A garden party.
Mmm.
The whole atmosphere certainly placed the theme to the fore. Sunlight. Rose bushes. Then, there were more exotic flowers their host had been showing to his guests.
“Good day to you,” Seth greeted every person they passed by or passed by them.
He reserved his mischievous smiles and saucy nods for the young, unmarried women, and, on occasion, even for some of the married ones.
Otherwise, Alasdair continued with small nods and stoic expressions. He could not help but narrow his eyes at some of the people he’d seen.
Seth introduced him to yet another possible political ally, Lord Hamilton.
“Your Grace,” Hamilton said, tipping his head in the barest show of respect. “A pleasure to see you. A fine day for a garden party, is it not?”
“Aye, I’ll grant ye that,” Alasdair replied. “Rippenton’s gardens are bonnie enough. Though for a man used to the wild hills and rough wind, it all feels a bit… manicured.”
“Nature,” Hamilton replied, with a measured smile, “must occasionally yield to order. It’s the price of civilization.”
Alasdair caught the edge in the man’s tone. He knew veiled contempt when he heard it. This one was like the others: polished words masking brittle pride.
Seth stepped in with a smooth laugh. “A fair point, Lord Hamilton, and a blunt one. Scots do like clarity.”
“Oh, indeed,” Hamilton said, smile tightening. “Yet even the clearest waters can hide unruly depths. Fine coats and London polish do not always tame what lies beneath.”
Alasdair’s jaw ticked, but his expression didn’t change. He had attended enough of these bloody English events now, kept his temper more often than not. And still, the whispers of wildness lingered like smoke. Enough was enough.
“Oh, sometimes ye’ve got to change yer colors to suit the room; same as prey an’ predator both learn to blend into the land around them,” he said, with a dangerously low voice.
“Your Grace, some of us do have better things to do than bluster. They are more reliable and effective. Not empty,” Hamilton retorted.
Alasdair’s heart pounded, not because he was afraid of the lord before him. He might actually do something he might regret later, something that would confirm to everyone that he was the sort of Highlander they thought it was.
“Better things, is it? Like yer fine family name? Yer grand estates? Aye, well, both were handed to ye, not earned by yer own sweat.”
“Ah, even so. You should know better about inherited titles, Your Grace, lest you forget. Titles come with responsibility. One must learn to rise above their baser beginnings.”
“Me faither always told me to rise above the low, aye. But all I ask for is the truth, not the pedigree.”
“You presume too much, Your Grace.”
“Perhaps I do.”
It looked like there was no alliance to be formed with the lord that night, as Alasdair felt the space between the two of them widen.
“Perhaps we should switch to a warmer topic, Your Grace?” Seth asked—partly in jest, but Alasdair could tell that his seemingly lighthearted tone carried some tension.
“I will not pander to idle chatter that you are so used to, Lord Whitton,” Hamilton sneered, looking at Seth dismissively. “There are far more important things of greater weight to discuss.”
Alasdair chuckled, but it was not pleasant at all. Not at all. “Weight, is it? Then perhaps ye ought to sit on yer opinions rather than speak them.”