The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(23)

Before she was finished, Mary and Victoria hopped up and offered to take over and Elizabeth was certain she saw the relief in Catherine’s eyes.

But when Duncan took her arm and started to lead her out of the room—as he no doubt had been planning all along—Aunt Esmeralda stopped them. “Just where do you think you’re going?” she barked.

“For a walk, Lady Esmeralda.”

“I think not,” she warbled. “Not without a chaperone.”

“A chaperone? But Lady Esmeralda,” Duncan said. “We are betrothed.”

“What?” Hamish barked. And then he laughed. “But I thought you were in love with—”

Duncan’s face turned red. “Shut up,” he hissed at his friend. He glanced at Catherine, who had gone terribly pale, and then glowered at Hamish.

Hamish did not take the hint. “No, really. How many times did you talk about her—?”

“Shut. Up.” Practically a growl.

Bower leaned over and whispered something in Hamish’s ear, which made him wince and flick a remorseful glance at Duncan. “Sorry,” he said.

But it was too late. Catherine was devastated at the prospect of another woman. Who wouldn’t be? She put her hand to her head and grimaced through the tears. “Oh dear,” she said. “Another megrim.”

“Imagine that,” Aunt Esmeralda murmured.

Elizabeth leaped to her feet and ran to Catherine’s side. “Come, darling,” she said. “A cool cloth, I think.”

“Yes,” Catherine said through a sob, but she let Elizabeth and her sisters guide her up the stairs.

“Men,” Anne muttered as they turned to corner to their wing.

“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed.

And Catherine? Catherine only wept.

Elizabeth could so relate. Because the man she imagined she loved did not love her back.

It was heartbreaking.

*

The rest of the day was a whirl, preparing for the Daltry’s masquerade. For some reason, Catherine’s bleak mood had lifted and Elizabeth was fairly certain it had something to do with Duncan loving her after all, which was nice for her, but was dampening for Elizabeth.

As for the men, they had all disappeared to wherever it was men went when they were avoiding preparations for a ball.

Not that she wanted to see him.

She didn’t.

She was perfectly fine without seeing him.

Besides, she wouldn’t know what to say if she did see him.

Then, around tea time, Elaine informed Elizabeth that she had a caller. Curious, she headed for the parlor and was surprised—and alarmed—to find Aunt Esmeralda with a broad grin on her face, pouring tea for Lord Twiggenberry.

“My lord.” She curtseyed.

Esmeralda waved a hand. “Close the door.”

Oh dear. That was not good. But Elizabeth nodded to her aunt and complied.

“Lord Twiggenberry has something he’d like to ask,” her aunt said gleefully. For some reason, she could barely keep still in her seat. “Go on, my lord.”

Twiggenberry bent over Elizabeth’s hand. A waft of his pomade assaulted her nostrils. “You know I hold you in great esteem, my lady.”

Her stomach surged. Her pulse pounded. Her palms began to sweat. She thought, for a moment, she might faint. “I . . . ah . . . Thank you, my lord.”

He sent her an ardent smile. “Do call me Twiggy.”

Twiggy?

“I . . . ah . . . Yes, my lord.”

“We both come from the best possible stock, you know.”

Ah, yes. Like cattle.

“And my family has great regard for your cousin, the duke.” His smile dimmed, just a tad. “Even though he is, you know, a Scot. He is still a very wealthy man. That does erase many a social sin, you know.”

Did it?

“At any rate, my dearest Elizabeth. I am humbly pleased to offer you a position by my side for as long as we both shall live.”

She gaped at him. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, don’t be. I know this is a shock. The season has barely begun, but I took one look at you and knew you were the woman I wanted to bear my heirs.”

Oh dear lord. Her stomach surged. “Did you?”

“You have fabulous hips.”

Really?

She glanced at her aunt, who was beaming. “This is famous. Absolutely famous. The season has hardly even begun and here we are. One down.”

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. Her head spun and a buzzing howled in her ears. She could hear Twiggenberry continuing to speak, but none of the words made sense.

But one thing was clear. He wanted to marry her.

Marry. Her.

He wanted her to bear his children.

She had fabulous hips.

Something rose within her. Something bilious.

She couldn’t stop it.

She couldn’t keep it down.

She opened her mouth to respond, to scream “No! No! No!”

But that was not what came out.

What came out was nuncheon.

In fact, she evacuated all over Lord Twiggenberry’s elaborately embroidered vest and his perfectly polished shoes.

And then, mercifully, she swooned.





Chapter Nine


“Is she going to be all right?” Catherine’s voice floated to Elizabeth from afar.