Highlander all the way long”.’
Annabelle giggled and the Marquess looked up with a start and held out his hand for the book.
‘I beg your pardon, Miss Annabelle,’ he said. I was so engrossed with the sound of your bewitching voice that I had forgot the subject matter might not be suitable for the eyes of a lady. ’
‘Is he describing the kilt ?’ asked Annabelle, who was in fact rather relieved to find some fact could be as entertaining as fiction.
‘I believe so. He spells the word phonetically. Quelt means kilt.’
‘I am so disappointed,’ mourned Annabelle. ‘From the poems of Mr Walter Scott I had formed a more romantic picture of the Highlander.’
‘Some of the chiefs and lords I met in Edinburgh look very fine in their national dress. This describes the dress of the poor Highlander, and I gather from friends that the poverty in the
North is still appalling.’
He spoke seriously and Annabelle dropped her eyelashes to mask her expression of total indifference. The Highlands of Scotland and their inhabitants seemed to her as remote as the West
Indies.
‘But,’ went on the Marquess in a rallying tone, ‘if the gossips in this house have it aright, it was you who seemed to have a charming capacity for putting the company
to the blush.’
‘I did use some terrible cant,’ said Annabelle with a charming air of candour. ‘But in truth I did not know what I said. I thought it was fashionable to use
cant.’
‘Not in ladies and not in mixed company for anyone. ’
‘I should have known better,’ sighed Annabelle, ‘than to listen to a couple of back gammon players.’
‘My dear Miss Annabelle!’
‘Oh, dear, what have I said now?’
‘I could not possibly explain.’
‘But it was a very respectable coachman who said that. He said, “Them back gammon players makes me want to flash my hash.”’
‘Worse and worse,’ said the Marquess, burying his head in his hands.
‘Now, you must tell me or I shall ask Minerva.’
‘Do. She will not know – fortunately – what you are talking about.’
‘But she will ask Lord Sylvester.’
‘Very well. It is either my blushes or Sylvester’s, and I am informed that my face lacks colour. I will translate.
‘Back gammon players are gentleman who prefer the company of their own sex.’
‘As do most men,’ said Annabelle, surprised. ‘Else why do you all congregate in coffee houses and clubs?’
‘That is as far as I am prepared to go. To flash your hash means to vomit.’
‘Well, that is not so bad. What does old hat mean?’ said Annabelle provocatively, as if she did not know – now – what it meant.
‘Miss Annabelle, if you persist in sullying that pretty mouth of yours with disgusting language, I shall be tempted to kiss it clean.’
Annabelle raised her fan to make one of the many gestures with which a lady received an overwarm remark from a gentleman. She could rap him playfully on the wrist or raise the fan to cover her
blushes.
Instead, she stopped with the fan half-raised and looked at him with wide blue eyes.
‘Then why don’t you?’ she said.
‘Brazen hussy!’
‘Ah, you were funning. And I heard you called a very brave man.’
He leaned forwards and took her chin gently in his hand. Annabelle closed her eyes. The Marquess kissed her gently on the mouth and then drew away murmuring, ‘I thought Sylvester held your
affections.’
‘He is engaged to my sister, sir!’
‘Ah.’
‘It is you, my lord, who . . . who . . . I have formed a tendre for you, my lord.’
‘You are so very young, Annabelle.’
‘It seems the Armitage girls are destined to fall in love with men in their dotage.’
He looked deep into her eyes. Annabelle conjured up Lord Sylvester’s face, imagined it was he who was gazing into her eyes, and her own glowed with warmth and love.
The Marquess took a deep breath and said half to himself, ‘I would be a fool to let such a moment go by.’
He took her hand in his.
Annabelle giggled and the Marquess looked up with a start and held out his hand for the book.
‘I beg your pardon, Miss Annabelle,’ he said. I was so engrossed with the sound of your bewitching voice that I had forgot the subject matter might not be suitable for the eyes of a lady. ’
‘Is he describing the kilt ?’ asked Annabelle, who was in fact rather relieved to find some fact could be as entertaining as fiction.
‘I believe so. He spells the word phonetically. Quelt means kilt.’
‘I am so disappointed,’ mourned Annabelle. ‘From the poems of Mr Walter Scott I had formed a more romantic picture of the Highlander.’
‘Some of the chiefs and lords I met in Edinburgh look very fine in their national dress. This describes the dress of the poor Highlander, and I gather from friends that the poverty in the
North is still appalling.’
He spoke seriously and Annabelle dropped her eyelashes to mask her expression of total indifference. The Highlands of Scotland and their inhabitants seemed to her as remote as the West
Indies.
‘But,’ went on the Marquess in a rallying tone, ‘if the gossips in this house have it aright, it was you who seemed to have a charming capacity for putting the company
to the blush.’
‘I did use some terrible cant,’ said Annabelle with a charming air of candour. ‘But in truth I did not know what I said. I thought it was fashionable to use
cant.’
‘Not in ladies and not in mixed company for anyone. ’
‘I should have known better,’ sighed Annabelle, ‘than to listen to a couple of back gammon players.’
‘My dear Miss Annabelle!’
‘Oh, dear, what have I said now?’
‘I could not possibly explain.’
‘But it was a very respectable coachman who said that. He said, “Them back gammon players makes me want to flash my hash.”’
‘Worse and worse,’ said the Marquess, burying his head in his hands.
‘Now, you must tell me or I shall ask Minerva.’
‘Do. She will not know – fortunately – what you are talking about.’
‘But she will ask Lord Sylvester.’
‘Very well. It is either my blushes or Sylvester’s, and I am informed that my face lacks colour. I will translate.
‘Back gammon players are gentleman who prefer the company of their own sex.’
‘As do most men,’ said Annabelle, surprised. ‘Else why do you all congregate in coffee houses and clubs?’
‘That is as far as I am prepared to go. To flash your hash means to vomit.’
‘Well, that is not so bad. What does old hat mean?’ said Annabelle provocatively, as if she did not know – now – what it meant.
‘Miss Annabelle, if you persist in sullying that pretty mouth of yours with disgusting language, I shall be tempted to kiss it clean.’
Annabelle raised her fan to make one of the many gestures with which a lady received an overwarm remark from a gentleman. She could rap him playfully on the wrist or raise the fan to cover her
blushes.
Instead, she stopped with the fan half-raised and looked at him with wide blue eyes.
‘Then why don’t you?’ she said.
‘Brazen hussy!’
‘Ah, you were funning. And I heard you called a very brave man.’
He leaned forwards and took her chin gently in his hand. Annabelle closed her eyes. The Marquess kissed her gently on the mouth and then drew away murmuring, ‘I thought Sylvester held your
affections.’
‘He is engaged to my sister, sir!’
‘Ah.’
‘It is you, my lord, who . . . who . . . I have formed a tendre for you, my lord.’
‘You are so very young, Annabelle.’
‘It seems the Armitage girls are destined to fall in love with men in their dotage.’
He looked deep into her eyes. Annabelle conjured up Lord Sylvester’s face, imagined it was he who was gazing into her eyes, and her own glowed with warmth and love.
The Marquess took a deep breath and said half to himself, ‘I would be a fool to let such a moment go by.’
He took her hand in his.
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