The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(10)

Hamish chuckled. “This is hardly war, madam.”

“Oh, it is,” she warbled. “It most certainly is.” And then she laid the papers out on the table and spread them around.

“What’s all this?” Hamish asked.

“Invitations, dear boy. Invitations. They started coming in once word got out that the duke was coming.”

“How on earth did word get out?” Ranald asked.

Lady Esmeralda fixed her features in a credibly innocent mien. “I’m sure I have no idea. People do gossip, don’t you know.”

“I’m sure they do.”

“Nevertheless, here’s what we have. We need to decide which events to attend.”

Hamish and Ranald stared at the papers, all inscribed with flowing script and on very expensive-looking vellum. They glanced at each other and shared a shrug. “You expect us to help in this?” Ranald asked.

Honestly, neither of them had the slightest clue.

“Of course. Don’t be difficult.”

Hamish cleared his throat. “We’re not being difficult, Lady Esmeralda—”

“I told you to call me Essie.”

Ranald gaped at him and mouthed the word Essie? and heat crept up Hamish’s cheeks. “But we doona know the first thing about London society,” he sputtered.

“Well, we shall have to tutor you, won’t we, my boy?” She patted his knee. Her hand lingered. Somewhere to his left, Ranald snickered.

Hamish shot him a glower but was relieved when the door opened and Anne and another lovely blonde entered the room. It was only politic to leap to his feet . . . and Esmeralda’s hand fell away.

“Ah, there you are, gels.” She shot a sardonic glance at the men. “We’re saved,” she said drily.

“I heard you were sifting through the invitations,” Anne said. She glanced at the men and then pointedly took a seat on the other side of the room.

Hamish was reminded of what Elizabeth had told him, and indeed, he could see a hint of pain and distrust in Anne’s eyes. It really was a shame because she was quite pretty.

“What fun,” the other blonde said.

“Ah, Catherine, do sit.” Esmeralda waved vaguely in the girl’s direction. “This is Catherine Ross. Catherine, Ranald Gunn, Baron of Bower, and Hamish Robb.”

“So good to meet you,” she said with a smile. “I understand you’ve come in lieu of the duke.”

Both men nodded and Esmeralda snorted. “The duke promised to come.”

“He sends his regrets,” Ranald reminded her.

“He would know which parties to attend.”

Hamish held his tongue because that fact was patently untrue. Lachlan would rather be fishing in a stream than attending a stuffy ball any day. Besides which, he eschewed anything having to do with London society. But there was no harm in letting Esmeralda have her delusions. In fact, it was easier that way.

“Where shall we begin?” Catherine said, picking up several of the invitations. She immediately made a face. “Ugh. This one is a no.” She handed the paper to Esmeralda, who responded with a grunt.

“Definitely not. Preeble is a pompous ass.”

“Here’s one from Tiverton,” Anne said in a dry tone.

Catherine made another face. “You can go, if you like. I prefer not to encourage him.”

“Nonsense, gel. How could you encourage him? You are betrothed to Mackay.”

“Tiverton seems to think he can change my mind.”

Anne laughed. “I can only imagine what Mackay thinks about that.”

Esmeralda barked a laugh. “Not one to keep his thoughts to himself, that boy.”

“He’s hardly a boy,” Anne said. Her lip curled, just slightly.

“Well, he’s a boy to me,” Esmeralda said. “Most men are anymore.” She shot a glance at Hamish, and he shifted in his seat.

Just to be helpful, or occupied at least, he picked up a piece of paper. “How about a house party at Lord Mulberry’s?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Esmeralda snatched it from his hand and tossed it into the fire.

Then she effectively nixed every invitation in his pile. Honestly, why did she need them present if she was going to make all the decisions anyway?

Then she found one that made her light up. “Oh. This masquerade at Lord Daltry’s tomorrow night is a must.”

“I do love a masquerade,” Catherine said.

“I find them annoying,” Anne said.

“Yes, well, you would,” Esmeralda responded. “Ah. The Moncrieff ball.”

“Ooh,” Catherine cooed. “The Dark Duke.”

Anne frowned. “We can’t go to that one. He’s far too scandalous a character.”

“We dare not miss it, for that very reason,” Esmeralda huffed. “Besides, he’s married now, and everyone knows what they say about reformed rakes.”

Hamish frowned. He didn’t know. “What do they say?”

Esmeralda glowered at him. “And look here. A musicale at the Smythe-Winstons’.”

Anne made a face. “Torture.”

“Perhaps, but an excellent venue for finding the right men.”

Catherine grinned. “Men in dire need of rescuing, I dare say.”