"Dinna do it because you're feeling guilty, though," said Lochiel to Alex. "Although Balhaldy's a MacGregor, he's also my cousin, but I dinna consider myself responsible for his stupidity."
"No more do I," said Alex. "We were on our way back to London anyway. And if Traquair doesna consider it necessary to help his prince, I do."
"We have to be sure of the support of the English and the French," said Lochiel. "And if we're not, we must, at all costs, prevent the prince from landing in Scotland next summer wi' his single footman."
Musing now in front of a London hearth, Beth wondered how anyone could stop the whirlwind prince from doing anything, once he had set his heart on it. She looked across at her husband, and discovered to her surprise that instead of gazing into the fire he was watching her instead. She had no idea how long she had been unknowingly observed, and coloured slightly.
"I'm awfu' glad I've got you," he said softly. "I dinna think I could have faced the prospect of being Sir Anthony again without you by my side."
She looked at him, thought of what she had almost lost and shivered suddenly, realising that she could not face the prospect of anything without him by her side. It was strange that less than two years ago she had not even known of his existence, and now the thought of life without him made her feel ill. He knows what I'm thinking, she realised as she saw his eyes soften.
"I meant what I said that night," he said.
An overwhelming desire to abandon the tedious visits and spend the day making love instead pulsed in the air, bridging the space between them. It had taken them two hours to get dressed. If they abandoned their outing now, they would never do it. Beth reluctantly swallowed back the invitation to him to tear all her clothes off and take her now, which she had been about to give voice to.
"Even though it now means you've got to call on my pompous boring cousin and his colourless sisters?" she said instead.
"Even if I had to call on the devil himself," Alex smiled. The sexual tension diminished, slightly. "Come on then, let's do it. It'll be easier once we've made our first formal call. We'll get back into the way of it then."
He stood and held out a hand to assist her to her feet, then put his arm around her. His head bent automatically to hers.
"You'll smudge your makeup," Beth reminded him, a second before their lips would have met.
He said something extremely obscene in Gaelic and released her reluctantly.
Beth smoothed her dress, tried to take a deep breath and failed due to the constricting stays, swept her way to the door and came to a shuddering halt.
"Oh damn it to hell!" she said viciously, moving back a few steps then hauling her hoops up gracelessly so that she could get through the doorway. She stopped in the hall and waited for her husband to join her.
"My cousins are not expecting us, are they?" she asked.
"No, they're just the first on a list of duty calls we'll have to make now we're back," Alex said. "Geordie should really be the first, but I've put him off until tomorrow. At least I didna have to endure his birthday celebrations."
They had arrived in London two days before on the second of November, three days after the bonfires and obligatory public demonstrations of loyalty to the Hanoverian king.
"In that case," suggested Beth, "let's forget the Elector and my stupid cousins for now. Loosen my stays a bit before I faint, and let's visit Edwin and Caroline first. At least we want to see them."
The drawing room was a study in familial bliss. Mother and father sat on opposite sides of the hearth, intent on their son, who was making his wobbly-legged way from one parent to the other, heavily supported by Caroline's arm. His small face was a picture of determination.
Edwin, arms held out to catch his son, looked round as the visitors entered.
"Where the hell have you two been?" he asked.
"Not quite the customary greeting, dear boy, but I suppose it shows you've missed us," Sir Anthony said, appropriating his customary place on the sofa. "Good God, he's changed, hasn't he? Or have you swapped Freddie for another child?"
The infant, who had indeed changed considerably, looked at the apparition placed before him in wonder, his eyes, which were now definitely hazel, opening wide, and his grip on Caroline's arm loosening. He took another faltering step unsupported, then toppled backward, landing on his bottom on the rug. His face wavered and Caroline scooped him up quickly before he could decide in favour of tears.
"Children do change over a three month period at this age, Anthony," Caroline said pointedly, kissing the child's fuzz of brown hair before commencing to bounce him gently up and down on her knee.
"Really, you two, it's not good enough," said Edwin sternly. "You could have told us you were going away for months. Caroline's been beside herself."
Caroline looked at him, lips pursed.
"Well, I've been a bit concerned as well," he admitted. "We knew you were going to a wedding in Manchester, but we had no idea you were going to stay away for so long. We thought you'd had an accident or been murdered or something, particularly when we had no word from you. Caroline finally wrote to you in Didsbury. I assume you haven't received her letter."
Beth and Sir Anthony looked at each other guiltily. It hadn't occurred to them that anyone would be worried about them.
"No, we haven't. I'm sorry," said Beth. "Lots of people go off to the country for a few months at a time. We thought you'd realise that was what we'd done."
"We did think that was what you'd done at first," said Caroline. "But when people go off to the country they usually correspond with their acquaintance in the city, regularly. Whereas you haven't written to anyone, have you? I even called on your cousins to see whether they'd heard from you, and had to endure Edward pontificating on for an hour about how to rear children, not to spoil the rod, cold baths twice a day, all that rot. It was appalling."
"I'm sorry," said Beth again.
"It was even worse when he started citing you as an example of what happens when a child is overindulged by its parents and becomes a headstrong, selfish adult with no consideration for others. I almost hit him, until I realised that the reason I was enduring his drivel at all was because he was right. Not about your upbringing, but about your lack of consideration. You two are our best friends. Why didn't you write?"
Beth looked at her husband helplessly. Maybe they would have been better going to Edward's first, after all. What could they say? We're sorry, but we were charging half-naked around the Highlands of Scotland, making love in the heather, throwing each other in the loch and behaving like little children, and it was wonderful and we forgot all about you.
"We've been in Scotland," said Sir Anthony, to Beth's utter astonishment.
"Scotland?" said Edwin incredulously. "Don't tell the king that, when you call on him. Or Cumberland. They're convinced the place is a hotbed of Jacobitism. All the prominent people there are being watched."
"Oh, that's the Highlanders," said Sir Anthony dismissively. "And only a small number of them, if rumour is to be believed. We were in Edinburgh. After we'd spent some time in Manchester, of course. Beth's ex-servants have bought a house together, and we stayed there. They really are excellent people. Of course we should have written. It was quite inexcusable. But it never occurred to us you'd be worried. We didn't forget you, of course; we've brought presents."
He fished in his pocket and brought out a ball made of four pieces of brightly-coloured leather sewn together and stuffed with cloth. He stood and presented it formally to the child, who was already reaching for it, attracted by the bright colours. It jingled softly as Freddie's hands closed around it, automatically transferring it to his mouth. Caroline reached to take it off him.
"It's quite all right," said the baronet. "I thought of that. It's sturdy enough for him to chew on without damaging it or himself, and too big for him to swallow. It's got some bells sewn inside it, too." He smiled, and Caroline softened before his eyes. "We've brought presents for you two as well," he continued. "They're in the coach. A bottle of excellent brandy, Edwin, which I was hoping you'd invite me to share with you, although I'll forgive you if you don't, in your present mood. And a length of silk, Caroline, which matches the colour of your eyes perfectly. And now you've got to forgive us, for we are really most contrite, and if we ever go away again we promise to write to you twice a day at least."
He adopted an expression of such utter distress that even Edwin, who had been determined to give his friend a hard time, gave in.
"How was Edinburgh?" he asked Beth.
"Interesting," she said uncertainly, wondering why Alex had revealed that they had been there at all. "Er … the castle is very impressive. And Anthony bought me the most delightful bracelet."