For The Love Of My Scotsman (Complete!)

Lottie Attacked

Lottie ran her fingers along the feathers rimming the mask over her eyes, gazing out across the crowded ballroom. The masquerade ball was in full force, with dazzling gowns and glittering masks flashing in the candlelight as guests mingled and danced.

"Are you ready?" she whispered over her shoulder to Sally, who stood at the edge of the ballroom, worrying the edge of her apron until the threads came loose.

"I don't like this, Miss," Sally said, "it be too dangerous! Shouldn't we just tell Lord and Lady Greyville?"

Lottie drew a deep breath to steady herself. "No," she said, remembering the way William had accused her of throwing herself shamelessly at Thomas, 'just like she had with Edmund.' Even if he mistakenly said it in a moment of anger, she didn't dare tell him her desperate plan to save her Scotsman. He would stop her for sure. "I'll be perfectly safe. Just get into position."

Sally nodded, pulling her maid's cap lower over her ears. "I heard from the other maids that Lord McCabe has already arrived. His mask is painted gold and covers his entire face."

Lottie nodded and tucked her thumbs into her fists. She had no intention of meeting her fiancé that evening.

Sally slipped through the crowd and Lottie counted in her head, knowing it would take several minutes for the young maid to get up to the laboratory and into her hiding place.

Steadying herself, Lottie pressed into the crowd. She greeted the guests as they approached her but moved on before she could be sucked into a conversation. Finally, she found Sir Roland, his face ruddy and swollen already from too many drinks.

"What, ho!" he leered, grabbing her hand.

She crinkled her nose at his fowl stench but froze before she could pull away. Just behind him stood a tall man, staring at her from behind a full-faced mask, painted in gold. White feathers arched from the top of the mask and over his hair.

They watched each other for a long moment before he stepped forward. "Miss Lottie, might I have this dance?" his deep voice rang with a perfect British accent. Lord McCabe. Even if Sally hadn't warned her, Lottie would have guessed it was him judging by the gold brocade of his waistcoat and silver cravat. An utter dandy without a thought in his head, surely.

Lottie turned away sharply and smiled at Sir Roland. "Come, Sir Roland, I believe I have already promised this dance to you."

Sir Roland sucked in his enormous potbelly and touched the side of his nose. "I knew you couldn't avoid me forever. Finally acknowledged your ardent feelings for me, eh?"

She rolled her eyes and dragged him out to the dance floor.

"Wait!" Lord McCabe called after her but she ignored him.

She danced for several long minutes with the odious Sir Roland before she gathered her courage. Oh, how she missed the gossip-mongering skills of Octavia and Mrs. Ashdown. If only they were here, it would have been so much easier to spread the rumor that would draw out the real killer.

"Did you hear?" she said with a hint of mischief as she leaned closer. "Mr. Farraday's notebook has been found."

Sir Roland froze in the middle of the floor, his face paling. "Y-you don't say...? Who could have found it?"

Lottie smiled and touched the side of her nose, imitating his signature motion. "I did, of course. But don't tell the others. Let's keep this as our little secret."

He nodded vigorously and she noticed with satisfaction that he was sweating profusely throughout the rest of the dance. Once the set ended, he excused himself and hurried away. Lottie watched him closely as he pushed through the crowd, finally pausing to whisper frantically in Lady Hillington's ear.