"Very nice!" she commented.
"Which, the Merc or the Alvis?" Adam said over his shoulder, from beside Humphrey.
"The Alvis, of course!" she replied. "I'll take a classic car any day. It reminds me that I'll want to get my Morgan out of mothballs."
"Well, it's waiting for you in the stable, under a dust sheet," he replied, as Humphrey eased the Range Rover forward a few feet, to the foot of the steps. "And if you'd like to drive the Alvis, I'm sure I can arrange that. It belongs to some young friends of mine. You remember Peregrine Lovat?''
"The portrait artist?"
"The very same. The Alvis was a bequest from his wife's godmother. I think you'll like Julia," he added. "She's the perfect match for Peregrine."
Cold air and the lively strains of country dance music assailed Adam as he left the car and opened Ximena's door to hand her out. With Humphrey's assistance, Philippa had already alighted from the other side of the car, regally cloaked in dark blue velvet over a floor-length tartan gown of silk taffeta that rustled as she moved.
Adam himself was no less resplendent, in a kilt of Sinclair tartan, wing-collared shirt, and a regulation doublet of black silk barathea, with hose also in Sinclair tartan. Light glinted from his shoe buckles and the silver mountings of the small dagger called a skean dubh, stuck in the top of his left stocking, and was echoed more subtly in the antique silver buttons of his doublet and the chains of a silver pocket watch swagged between the two pockets of his white waistcoat.
By contrast, Ximena's slim black velvet gown provided subtle counterpoint to the two Sinclairs' Highland finery - long-sleeved and demure in front, but slit from ankle to knee on one side and cut low in back under her short evening cape. The latter was an Edwardian confection of black silk faille and braid with fine jet beading, quite in keeping with her recent bereavement but also an exquisite fashion statement. Her only jewellery was her engagement ring and a pair of diamond ear studs lent her by Philippa for the evening, just visible beneath the wings of dark hair swept back at the sides and French-braided down the back, the tail tied with a bit of black velvet ribbon. A few hours' sleep and the careful application of makeup had all but erased any signs of undue fatigue.
"Darling, you look wonderful!" Adam murmured, pressing her palm to his lips before tucking her arm in his. "I shall be the envy of every man in the house."
"And I expect I shall have to fight off all the other women, when they see you in your kilt,'' she said, smiling as she pretended to adjust his white tie. "Do you realize I've never seen you in a kilt before? I think it may be even sexier than those riding breeches you were wearing, that second time I came up to your house. Did you think me very bold?"
"Certainly not!" he declared in mock indignation. "I was delighted to have found a physician who still makes house calls."
The sound of throat-clearing suddenly reminded him that Philippa was still waiting on the other side of the car with Humphrey.
"Sorry, we're coming," he said, containing a boyish grin as he led Ximena around to join them. "Philippa, do you know if provisions have been made for the drivers?"
"Yes, and I've already given Humphrey the details," she said indulgently. "Janet's laid on supper for them in the breakfast room. Humphrey, I don't expect we'll be very late - probably not much past one. Enjoy yourself until then."
"Very good, milady. And may I wish you all a happy new year."
"And the same to you, Humphrey," Adam said. "We'll see you in a few hours."
As Humphrey set off to park the car, Adam escorted Ximena and his mother up the steps and into the convivial warmth of the Frasers' entry hall, where their host was directing arriving guests into the drawing room. Sir Matthew Fraser, KBE, was a renowned surgeon and patron of the arts, in addition to being a childhood friend of Adam's. Tall, lean, and prematurely grey, the inspiration of many a wistful sigh among his female patients, he cut an indelibly romantic figure in his blue velvet doublet and kilt of red and blue Fraser tartan as he saw the Sinclairs and came rushing over.
"Philippa, you did persuade them to come!" he said, kissing her on both cheeks and then embracing Adam as he pumped his hand. "Adam, I'm delighted to see you. And Ximena - welcome back to Scotland!" he went on, sweeping a courtly bow over her hand.
As he and Adam helped the ladies out of their wraps, handing them off to one of Fraser's teenaged daughters, Adam was aware of heads turning in their direction. A waiter emerged from the drawing room bearing a silver tray laden with glasses of champagne, and at Matthew's hail in that direction, his wife materialized in the doorway - a vivacious, dark-haired vision in midnight-blue chiffon, diamonds at her throat and a red and blue silk Fraser sash brooched to her right shoulder. With a barely suppressed squeal of delight, she dashed across the hall to greet the new arrivals, enthusiastically hugging first Adam, then Philippa, and then taking Ximena's hand in both of hers to shake her head in grinning wonderment.
"Ximena, my dear, I am so glad you could join us tonight. And Adam darling, your timing couldn't have been more perfect - the dancing's just picking up momentum. I won't spoil your surprise by saying anything else just now - I'll let you choose your time and place - but do have some champagne and come in and mingle."
As the front door opened behind them to admit another couple, she reluctantly excused herself and went with her husband to greet them, leaving Adam and his ladies to help themselves to champagne and head on into the crowded drawing room. The music was coming from a large conservatory beyond, turned into a ballroom for the occasion, and they could see couples whirling in the patterns of a boisterous reel.
Heading vaguely in that direction, and waylaid several times by friends and professional colleagues come to be introduced to his striking companion, Adam managed to spot the Lovats early on, chatting amiably with one of Peregrine's recent clients near the doorway to the conservatory. Meanwhile, Philippa's attentions were claimed by an emeritus lecturer in neurology, likewise a former student of Jung, with whom she'd enjoyed a long-standing and comfortable flirtation.
As the neurologist whisked Philippa off to catch up on old times, Adam continued to work his way through the crowded room, Ximena at his side, caught up in the festive atmosphere. Eventually Peregrine noticed them and wound up his conversation, steering his wife over to join the new arrivals. Lovat being a sept of Clan Fraser, he was wearing a kilt in the brown hunting sett of his Fraser tartan, topped off by a bottle-green Montrose doublet. Julia's gown was a softer shade of moss-green, its scooped neckline and skirt flounced with double tiers of creamy lace - a stunning foil to her fair skin and red-gold hair.
"Hello, Julia," Adam said, kissing her on both cheeks. "You're looking radiant tonight. I'd like you to meet Ximena Lockhart. Peregrine, I believe you and Ximena met when she was last in Scotland."
"We did, indeed," Peregrine replied, as his wife smiled and extended her hand.
"Hello, Ximena," Julia said. "I'm very pleased to meet you at last. Would it be terribly trite of me to say that Peregrine has told me so much about you?"
"It was all gross exaggeration, I can assure you - both the good and the bad," Ximena replied with a smile. "Hello, Peregrine. It's good to see you again."
"And you," Peregrine said, bending over her hand with a grin and a courtly bow. "A usually reliable source tells me you may be here to stay."
An answering smile touched Ximena's lips as she drew Peregrine closer to kiss him on the cheek. "Knowing your source," she whispered, with a sidelong glance at Adam, "I'd say he's impeccably reliable. But please don't quote me on that until later tonight."