The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(22)

“Oh, does she? How charming.” Catherine leaned over and whispered to Elizabeth, “How long has this been going on?”

“First I’ve noticed. Aunt Esmeralda doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Well, thank God for small favors. I for one would love having you as a sister.”

“What a lovely thing to say.”

“It’s true.”

Elizabeth eyed her friend for a moment. “Why are you so cheerful?”

“Am I not allowed?”

“Don’t be silly. But it’s . . .”

“What?”

“It’s not natural.” Also, it was annoying, because Elizabeth was decidedly uncheerful.

“Well, first of all,” she ticked off on her fingers, “I did not have to attend Almack’s last night.”

“That was something of a coup.”

“Believe me, I know. And then, my megrim is gone.” She nodded to Aunt Esmeralda. “And finally . . .” She took Elizabeth’s hand in a tight grip. “I’m seeing Duncan today. That is, I’m fairly certain he’s coming to call.”

Ah. True love. That was what it was.

When Duncan Mackay had arrived at Ross House, having bought Peter’s vowels and taken over the property—along with his sister. Catherine had come to live at Sinclair House while the banns were read, which was only proper. Duncan made it a point to visit as often as he could—which usually meant morning calls. But the process had been frustrating for both. It was clear they simply wanted to be alone together.

Unfortunately, Aunt Esmeralda took great joy in keeping them apart.

It was like a hobby for her.

“Well, there he is himself. The most popular man in London.” At Esmeralda’s dry jest, Elizabeth glanced up and caught sight of Hamish and Ranald standing in the doorway. Her stomach lurched.

Why did he have to be so handsome?

She forced her gaze away, but it cost her.

“Good morning, Lady Esmeralda,” the baron said, bowing over her hand. When Hamish did the same, Elizabeth had to look away again. This time, she caught Catherine’s eye.

“Are you all right?” her friend asked.

Elizabeth flashed her a toothy smile. “Megrim.”

Catherine’s eyes widened. “Oh.” Her gaze flicked to Hamish and back. “Oh dear.”

“It’s nothing,” she gritted. “I’m fine.” The last thing she wanted was to catch anyone’s attention, especially the tall handsome man with flaming red hair who thought her childish and unattractive.

On that note, she set down her cake. God forbid she plump up as well.

Naturally, once the men were settled with coffee and bacon—which apparently Henley would bring on command—conversation turned to the evening before, much to Elizabeth’s discomfort. Not that she didn’t want to go over it all again, relive the annoyance of Lady Jersey’s flirtation and Hamish’s subsequent mortification at her hands, but she didn’t. It was far too painful to hear him protest his interest. That arrow fell too close to the heart for comfort.

It was practically a relief when a deep Scottish voice boomed from the foyer, “By all the Gods,” shattering the conversational thread.

Duncan Mackay’s familiar voice was unmistakable.

Catherine issued a sigh, which was completely subsumed by Hamish’s whoop. At which Aunt Esmeralda steadied her teacup on her saucer and muttered, “Now really.”

Hamish, Ranald, and Duncan ignored her and greeted one another with great hugs and manly slaps on the back.

Catherine turned to Elizabeth and whispered, “They know one another?”

“Apparently.” She forced a grin. “No doubt all Scotsmen know one another.”

“Indeed.”

“What the bluidy hell are you doing here?” Hamish asked.

“Language?” Aunt Esmeralda bleated.

“Ach, I beg your pardon, lass,” Hamish said with that crooked grin that was far too like a flirtation for Elizabeth’s comfort.

Her aunt wagged her folded fan at Hamish. “Never forget we are in the presence of innocents, sir.”

“Och, how could I forget?” Hamish said with a chuckle. He turned to Duncan and said, “We’ve been sent by the duke.”

Duncan boggled. “Caithness?”

Ranald nodded with a pained smile on his face. “Aye. The duke sent us as his representatives for the season.”

Lady Esmeralda’s nose curled. “That bloody duke. He was supposed to come.”

“Language,” Victoria whispered.

“I say, Duncan,” Hamish said. “Why are you in London?”

Duncan glanced at Catherine. “Ahem. Business.”

“Ah.”

“Lady Catherine.” Aunt Esmeralda broke into this reunion. Probably because it bored her. “Would you favor us with a song on the pianoforte?”

Catherine hid her grimace. She hated playing the pianoforte. And it showed. “Of course, Lady Esmeralda,” she said, and then she nodded in advance apology to the company. Duncan followed her and stood by her side, turning pages, which was probably one of the reasons she played so badly. Who could focus with a man like that at one’s side?

Catherine had butchered Mozart before, but in this, she surpassed even herself.