Rogue with a Brogue Read Online Free Page A

she’d felt … excited, as if she were doing something forbidden and dangerous. As opposed to something … disquieting. Roderick MacAllister was pleasant enough, and she supposed at the back of her thoughts she’d known he was one of her beaux, along with every male cousin in the Campbell clan. But that didn’t erase the fact that there had been something stirring about waltzing with a rogue.
    Her father released the cup of tea and sat back again. “We likely should have had this conversation three years ago when you had your debut.”
    â€œWe did,” the marchioness countered, a fine line appearing between her brows. “But who would ever have expected the MacLawrys to come down from the Highlands? Not I, certainly.”
    â€œNot to argue,” Mary said slowly, “but if we are attempting to keep this truce with Lord Glengask and his clan, should we not be more … friendly toward them? Perhaps with a dance or two we can avoid any future bloodshed. Surely that would be worth the risk.”
    â€œDidn’t you hear your father? If Charles Calder or Arnold Haws sees you partnered with a MacLawry, you’ll be causing a fight. If you’re seen favoring that rogue over Lord Delaveer, you will be jeopardizing the most significant alliance of the past hundred years.”
    There had already been a fight—several of them, actually—between the Campbells and the MacLawrys this Season. In fact, she had no idea how Lord Glengask and her second cousin George Gerdens-Daily had managed to converse long enough to decide they should attempt to avoid killing each other. But they had, and now no one seemed to know quite what to do. Or rather, her family had decided to use the few moments of peace to nearly double their strength in anticipation of when the truce fell apart. And she was the linchpin.
    She pushed to her feet. “So I am not to dance with a MacLawry, and not to be rude to a MacAllister. I believe I can manage that.” Mary came around the table to pat her father on the shoulder. “I’m off to find a new hat, then, and I will be going to luncheon with Elizabeth and Kathleen.”
    â€œOh, give my best wishes to Kathleen for her mother, dear,” the marchioness said. “I do hope she’ll be recovered enough to attend the Dailys’ recital on Thursday.”
    â€œI’ll tell her.” Mary kissed her mother’s cheek, then made her way out to the foyer to collect her maid, Crawford, and the blue bonnet that matched her walking dress.
    â€œAre you certain you don’t want to take the coach, my lady?” Gerns asked, as the butler helped her with her matching blue shawl.
    â€œWe’re only walking to Bond Street,” she returned with a smile, deciding she could use a few moments to clear her head. Because if her parents couldn’t stop talking about one silly waltz with Arran MacLawry, her friends would wish to discuss nothing else.
    Of course she knew that logically she shouldn’t have danced with that lean, dark-haired fox half-mask. But for heaven’s sake, to say that she wasn’t allowed to waltz with a gentleman she’d never even met before simply because some man she hadn’t yet agreed to marry might be angry? Ridiculous.
    Of course marrying her would be a political coup, a way into clan Campbell’s higher echelons. She’d known that for what seemed like forever. Just the same way she knew that her male cousins and the potential Campbell allies paid her special attention because of her bloodline and not because she was particularly charming or lovely. But Arran MacLawry had danced with her for the simple reason that they’d worn matching masks. It was utterly … mad that everyone had begun roaring and stomping because of a coincidence of costume.
    Perhaps next her father would decide she couldn’t waltz with anyone dressed in blue. Or black. Or would it be her