The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(25)

Esmeralda’s expression became decidedly persimmony. She stood and made her way to the table by the window, the one that held assorted decanters of brown liquids. She poured two glasses and returned, handing one to Elizabeth.

“Sip it.”

She did, and a flame scorched her throat. She wheezed and coughed and then took another sip because it felt good.

As for Esmeralda, she tossed hers back in one gulp.

“I was, indeed, not happy with Van Cleve. He was a pompous, profligate popinjay. He humiliated me numerous times in front of my friends . . . and occasionally with my friends. But he was wealthy and he had a property in Scotland.”

Elizabeth sent her a curious glance. “A property in Scotland?”

She chuckled. “He thought he was punishing me, exiling me, but he had no idea who I was. I loved Scotland.” Her eyes glinted, faraway and dreamy. “I am certain he had no idea, until the day he died, that Roger was not his son.” Elizabeth’s eyes went wide and she glanced at her glass. What was this drink that it made a pillar of propriety spill her proverbial guts after one glass?

“Are you shocked?”

“A little.”

Esmeralda chuckled. “So was Van Cleve, when I told him.”

“You told him?”

“On his deathbed, as he wheezed his last. Was that cruel, do you think?”

“I really couldn’t say.”

“Well, it was a petty revenge, but I did enjoy it.”

“Aunt Esmeralda . . . why are you telling me this?”

“Because, my darling. You need to know that you do have options.”

“What if Twiggenberry does not exile me to Scotland?”

“There’s always Wales.”

“You are advocating I marry a man I do not love, and having affaires?”

“It is one option.”

“And what would you have chosen, if you’d had the freedom to? Would it have been Van Cleve?”

Her aunt sighed. “No. In all honesty, it would have been Rupert.”

“Roger’s father, I take it?”

“A tall, brawny, foul-mouthed Scot who could fuck like a—” Her cheeks went pink. “Oh dear. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Young ears.”

“Quite right.” She sighed and patted Elizabeth’s hand. “I will put Twiggenberry off. Tell him you need some time. We will keep this proposal between us for the moment, but you, my gel, need to find another suitor. I do warn you. The earl will not like being rejected.”

“He will understand.”

“My dear, I was married to an earl. My father was an earl and my brother following him. I can promise you, they never understand when things do not go their way. Let us proceed with delicacy, yes? Come now. We must prepare for tonight.”

Elizabeth nodded. And then she tossed back the rest of her drink.

She was going to need it.

*

“Do you have a moment?” Ranald stilled as Anne’s voice wafted to him as he sat in the study, composing a letter to his daughter.

He looked up with a friendly smile that cost him. Though her animosity towards him had waned—they were definitely friendly—somehow, that simply wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

But he knew better than to press her. This was still so fragile, any pressure might shatter what they had. So, as hard as it was to remain warm but distant, he did it.

“Of course.” He set his pen aside. “What is it?”

She took a seat on the other side of the desk and he joined her there because he wanted to be closer. Her perfume rose to him as he sat.

“I’m worried.”

“Are you?” Was it friendly to touch her hand? Probably. “About what?”

She did not pull away. “It’s Elizabeth.”

“Ah, yes. How is she feeling?”

“Better, I imagine. But it’s not that. It’s . . . something else.”

Ranald cocked his head to the side and waited for her to elaborate. To his chagrin, she rose and began pacing the room. “I don’t know how to explain it. There’s just something . . . different about her.”

“Different, how?”

“I don’t know. She seems . . . sad.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

“I’ve tried. But how do you ask a question when you don’t even know what you want to know?”

“That is a conundrum. Maybe she is just overset by the excitement of the season.”

Anne nodded. “Perhaps. This is a stressful time for all of us. The events. The suitors. The changes that are coming . . .”

“Aye. It is.”

She whirled and poleaxed him with the despair in her eyes.

“Anne?” He knew her well enough to feel her pain. “What is really bothering you?”

“Things are changing so fast.”

“Aye.”

“When my sisters marry, they may move away. We won’t be close anymore. What if we never see one another again?”

The tears in her eyes devastated him. He stood and opened his arms. To his shock and delight, she came to him and wrapped herself around him. “You will. You all love one another. You will find a way to visit.”

“Will we?”