For The Love Of My Scotsman

Crazy Fidelia

There were two men that Lottie had already placed on her list of the most disgusting people on the earth, and she believed she had just met the third.

Lottie and her dearest friend, Octavia Palmer, stared in horror at Sir Roland, who stood across from them in the sitting room of Lambert Castle. He was an older man, perhaps in his fifties, with reddish-blond hair, beady eyes, and his finger stuck up the nostril of his bulbous nose. He attempted to hide it behind a handkerchief, but Lottie and Octavia could clearly see it.

"Fascinating," Octavia whispered, her upper lip quirked in intrigued disgust. "Do you suppose he'll reach his brain at this rate?"

Lottie snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth to hide the sound. Lottie and the Countess had greeted the house party's guests in turn when they arrived in their carriages, and the large group now awaited the bell summoning them to supper in the dining room. Fidelia, the Countess's daughter-in-law, should have been there to greet the guests upon their arrival, but she'd claimed ill and begged off. Now, Lottie's redheaded sister stood beside William at the front of the room, her smile obviously strained as she listened Lady Hillington discuss her second son's recent return from the Navy.

Lottie elbowed Octavia in the side good-naturedly. "The Countess always says that every house party must have at least one insufferable guest. William said he hates to invite Sir Roland but he's a beloved fixture in the neighborhood. No one really understands why."

Octavia's lips twitched. "Careful, my dear Lottie, if the Countess hears you talking like that, she'll pair you up with him for supper. I'd wager you'd have a marriage proposal before the night is through."

Lottie gagged at the thought. "Don't remind me. The Countess has been throwing me at every eligible man with good standing in sight."

When the war had been declared between America and England in June of 1812, Lottie and Fidelia had been trapped in the ensuing riots that raged through Baltimore. A greasy Frenchman, Monsieur Le Coquin, had tried to kidnap Lottie during the commotion, but Lottie's brother Charles had sent William, to rescue the Atwell sisters. To escape Le Coquin, they had been forced to flee aboard a ship bound for England with William.

It had been Octavia Palmer and her father, a British merchant forced to flee back to England, who had first spotted William standing closely with Fidelia on deck. To preserve her honor, William had claimed that Fidelia was his wife. Although their marriage had started out like two dogs snarling and biting at each other's tails, love had soon blossomed between the two and they were now living as a nauseatingly affectionate couple. Meanwhile, Lottie had found a dear friend in Octavia, and they had been practically inseparable since then.

The door to the room opened and Lottie looked around, expecting to see one of the servants announcing supper, but she froze in shock.

"Mr. Farraday," she whispered, wrapping her hands around the folds of her skirts to hide their trembling. He had come after all.

"Forgive me for being late," Mr. Farraday announced to the room, and everyone turned in surprise. His gaze flitted around the room before finally resting on Lottie. She shivered as he pulled his lips up into a greasy, weasel-like smile.

William and Fidelia approached Mr. Farraday to exchange greetings and Lottie wondered with panic how they knew each other. How had he managed to secure himself an invitation?

After their pleasantries were over, Fidelia quickly pulled William away and Mr. Farraday moved on to stand next to Mrs. Ashdown and her niece, Miss Wilde. The two cowered as the newest guest leered down at them, taking Miss Wilde's hand and kissing it. Mrs. Ashdown was the recently widowed wife of a local gentleman and an even bigger gossip than Octavia. Lottie had had the unfortunate opportunity to interact with the woman on multiple occasions over tea and visits in the neighborhood, and each time the woman had criticized Lottie for every fault she could find.