For The Love Of My Scotsman (Complete!)

A Witch's Prophecy

"Fidelia!" Lottie and William cried in unison. William was by his wife's side in an instant, catching her before she could hit the ground.

Lottie and the Countess rose, coming to Fidelia's aid as William carried Fidelia from the room, but once in the hallway, he waved them back. "Take care of things here," he ordered.

The Countess nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. She took Lottie's hand and the young woman realized her adopted mother was trembling. They watched the couple vanish down the hall, and Lottie rose on her toes, trying to see if Fidelia had regained consciousness, but all she could see was Fidelia's limp hand hanging down over William's shoulder.

"What's wrong with my sister?" Lottie asked in a whisper.  As she watched them, she realized that William had left behind his cane, and, strangely enough, his limp was barely noticeable as he carried his wife.

But the Countess seemed at a loss for words and only muttered a prayer before she guided Lottie back into the dining room.

The guests were whispering between themselves and pointing anxiously after their ill hostess. Everyone except for Mr. Farraday, that is. Lottie realized his eyes were fixed pointedly on her. Did he know something about Fidelia?

The Countess reassured the guests that everything was fine and urged them to continue with their meal. Fidelia was simply overly tired, she explained. But Mr. Farraday only smiled slowly at the statement, still watching Lottie.

Lottie was forced to listen to Sir Roland's self-righteous blustering for the rest of supper, interjected by Lord Campbell's frequent comments that were at first annoying, and then utterly ridiculous. Not only did he misquote a line of Shakespeare as being from the Bible, but he also insisted that the war with America was already over and that it had been hardly more than a few skirmishes.

Breathing a sigh of relief as the party finally rose to retire to one of the spacious sitting rooms for an evening of pianoforte, Lottie tried to extricate herself from between the two odious men. Honestly, the Countess must truly be desperate to marry Lottie off if she were paring the young woman with these two idiots.

Was Fidelia well? Had she woken up yet? Determined to sneak away, Lottie ducked behind Lord Campbell and made for the door.

Miss Catriona slung her arm through Lottie's and pulled her off to the side of the sitting room, shocking Lottie at the friendliness of the gesture. The younger woman looked to be barely sixteen, with doe-like brown eyes and thick black curls twisted into an elegant hairdo reminiscent of ancient Roman statues. It was the height of fashion, but Lottie's hair was too slippery to hold such a pile.

"Give me all of the juicy details, Miss Lottie," Miss Catriona whispered, pulling out her little notebook.

"I beg your pardon?" Lottie tilted her head as she looked around for Octavia to come to her aid. She needed to check on Fidelia, not exchange gossip! But Octavia was in deep conversation with Captain Hillington and looked completely smitten.

"Was Sir Roland as smelly as he looks? Did his breath reek of bad eggs?" Miss Catriona held up her pencil, her doe-eyes peering at Lottie over the top of her notebook. They glittered with mischief and Lottie tried to decide if it was endearing or frightening. "I was so hoping that I would be paired with him, but, alas—"

"I—You wanted to be near him? I— well, yes, his breath was quite wretched," Lottie said between giggles as she glanced furtively at the door. At least Miss Catriona was a delightful addition to the evening.

One of Miss Catriona's eyebrows quirked, and she grinned, scratching away with her pencil in her book. "Wonderful. That's just what I was looking for."