The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(21)

“You think of me as a child.” Not a question.

“Elizabeth. That’s no’ what I meant—”

“Of course you do. Yes.” She cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes. She set back her shoulders and nodded. “I see. Thank you for telling me. Much appreciated.”

“Elizabeth—” The last thing he thought her was childish. She was a seductress, even when she wasn’t trying. But she was na?ve. She was untried. And he— Well, he was alone.

She’d marched from the room.

He knew better than to follow her. Instead, he headed for the decanter on the table by the window, praying for succor.

Sadly, this whisky was worse.





Chapter Eight


Elizabeth didn’t sleep well at all after her interaction with Hamish, and it wasn’t the effects of the kiss keeping her awake.

It was his comment.

And then, of course, the thoughts that followed.

Mortification, that he thought her young and fanciful, certainly, but there was an even more depressing suspicion floating about in her head.

By morning, she was sure she was correct in her assumption that it was not her youth that caused him to reject her.

He simply did not share her feelings, and he was loath to tell her to her face.

What else could it be?

She had kissed him that first time and while he had kissed her while she was sleeping, she’d turned it around after that and kissed him soundly. At which point, he had pushed her away.

No doubt he was mortified by her attention. As mortified as he’d been with Lady Jersey. That babble about him not being good enough for her was nonsense and they both knew it.

How many women had thrown themselves at him?

How many had he had to let down easy with some weak lie?

Childish fancy.

How hideous.

She wanted to hide in her room and never see him again, but she was hardly the hiding sort. Besides, around ten her maid, Elaine, scratched on the door and announced that they had visitors.

So she would rise.

She would dress.

She would attend morning calls with her head held high.

And she would never speak to Hamish Robb again.

*

How annoying was it that when Elizabeth entered the parlor, the only caller in attendance was Peter Ross, Catherine’s brother. She’d bestirred herself just for him? He and Victoria sat on the divan chatting and sipping tea. Elizabeth couldn’t help but notice the shine in Victoria’s eyes.

She glanced at Peter.

Dear heavens. There was a shine in his eyes too, which was, all things considered, a tad concerning because according to Catherine, Peter liked to gamble. He had, in fact, gambled his way into penury and it was only by the grace of Catherine’s betrothed, Duncan Mackay, that he was not in Newgate for his debts.

Elizabeth nodded to Anne and Mary, who were doing needlepoint, took a seat by Aunt Esmeralda, and said in a whisper, “You approve of this?”

“This?”

She nodded to the couple on the divan.

“Bah. He’s a good lad.”

“He gambles.”

Aunt Esmeralda’s grin was savage. “Not. Anymore.”

Her tone was so certain, Elizabeth did not dare gainsay her. Indeed, given Peter’s expression when he glanced at the matron, he would probably be afraid to consider it.

“Good morning, all,” Catherine chirped as she swanned into the room.

“Good morning.” A chorus.

“I see you’re feeling better,” Esmeralda said drily.

“Oh much, thank you.”

“Those megrims are a menace.” Dry as dust.

“Yes, they are.”

“Cake?” Elizabeth held up a plate.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Catherine helped herself and then poured her own cup of tea, because the rules did not apply when one was at home. At least, they had decided it to be so. “How was your evening at Almack’s?”

Silence rounded the room. Elizabeth glanced at Esmeralda in invitation. “It was charming,” she finally said.

“Lady Jersey has a penchant for Scotsmen, apparently,” Victoria said.

Catherine blinked. “Oh really?”

“My dear, I wouldn’t repeat that in company,” Esmeralda advised.

“It’s simply unfair how Scotsmen are treated in London. Don’t you agree, Peter?”

“Oh yes. Of course I do,” he said. Of course he did. He would have agreed that the king’s hair was blue if Victoria suggested it.

“Lady Jersey insisted that Hamish and Ranald remain outside the ballroom,” she continued.

“Of course she did,” Catherine said with a nod.

Victoria sighed. “But that is so unfair.”

“Indeed it is. However, she cannot set a precedent. Did you know she once refused Beau Brummell entrance?”

“I had heard that,” Esmeralda said. “But he was late, not a Scotsman.”

“My point is, she has standards to uphold.”

Victoria put out a lip. “They are supercilious standards.”

“I am not arguing that point. And where on earth did you learn a word like that, Victoria?”

Peter smiled at his sister. “She reads the dictionary,” he said in the tone of someone observing that Victoria could fly through the air.