The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(31)

“Surely she did not say that.”

“She most certainly did. But I won’t do that. I can’t. Besides, if Hamish feels the same, why should we not marry?”

“Indeed.”

“So you think it’s silly too, don’t you?”

Anne blinked. “What?”

“That Hamish is worried what the duke will think.”

“The duke? I can’t imagine he would care one way or another, as long as you are both happy.”

“That’s what I thought. But Hamish doesn’t have a title and he thinks that makes a difference.”

“If he can support you—”

“He can.” She beamed.

“Then I don’t see a problem. It’s not as though he’s a groom . . . or a footman.”

“Indeed not. He, Mackay, and Ranald have a very successful distillery.”

Anne held back a laugh. “That explains his penchant for whisky.”

“Yes. So you agree that I should refuse Twiggenberry and—”

Anne blinked. “Refuse him? He’s made an offer?”

“Yes. And I threw up on him.”

“Why am I never informed?”

“Surely you knew I threw up on him?”

Anne glowered. “About the offer.”

“I asked our aunt not to tell anyone.” Elizabeth batted her lashes in lieu of an apology. “To be truthful, it made me ill to think of marrying him. How could I, when I love Hamish so?”

“I agree, it would be awkward, having a husband who turns one’s stomach. And if you and Hamish love each other, I wish you nothing but happiness.”

“I do fret about the duke though.”

Anne hated the worry on her brow. “I’m sure he will approve, darling.”

“Are you?”

“I am.”

Elizabeth hugged her again. “Thank you, Anne. I am so happy.”

“And I am happy for you,” she said. And she was.

But the jealousy was still there.

It was just a different kind.

Her beloved sister had found that elusive happiness Anne had wanted her whole life but had never allowed herself to know.

And whose fault is that? A voice mocked from the back of her mind.

What a pity she didn’t have the strength to answer.

*

“They’ve found her!” Aunt Esmeralda burst into the parlor where the girls were diligently ignoring their needlepoint one day about two weeks after Hamish had left. She had a letter in her hand which she waved manically.

Elizabeth leaped up from her chair and rushed to her aunt’s side. “They’ve found her, thank God.”

Victoria cheered and Mary applauded.

“May I see that?” Elizabeth asked. It had been a boring two weeks, not attending parties or taking calls on the excuse that there was a fever in the house, but she hadn’t minded being bored because it kept Twiggenberry at bay. He had called each and every day and been turned away.

Esmeralda handed the parchment over and Elizabeth scanned it.

“What does it say? Read it aloud,” Victoria demanded.

“There’s not much. Bower and Mackay intercepted the coach near the border. Catherine is fine and . . .”

“And what?” Mary asked, her eyes alight.

Elizabeth sighed. “They are in Gretna Green.”

“Eloping?” Mary sighed. “How romantic.”

“It is not romantic,” Esmeralda advised.

Victoria humphed. “It is. And much better than being forced to marry Tiverton.”

How true. What a relief that Catherine was safe and in Duncan’s arms, though Elizabeth had really been looking forward to the wedding at St. Paul’s, which would now need to be canceled. She scanned the letter again, searching for news about Hamish, but there was none. She knew there was none, but she had to look once more. Where was he? Was he all right? Was there a reason the baron had not mentioned him in the letter? Was he even coming back?

“When are they coming back?” Anne echoed her thoughts.

Elizabeth glanced at her, having been captured by an unfamiliar tone in her voice. Something almost . . . wistful.

Esmeralda answered for her. “It does not say, but it hardly signifies. The fact is that we can, once more, go out.”

“What a relief,” Victoria gusted. “I’ve been wasting away.

Their aunt ignored her melodramatic whimper. “And just in time for the musicale at the Smythe-Winstons’.”

An agonized groan rounded the room.

“Could Bower not have delayed that missive by one day?” Anne muttered.

“I feel a megrim coming on,” Elizabeth said, putting her hand to her forehead.

Mary followed suit. “Me too.”

As did Anne. “It’s quite excruciating.”

Esmeralda glared them down. “Nonsense. No megrims will be tolerated. We are going to that damned musicale and we are going to enjoy it.”

Mary gasped and put her hands over her ears. “Such language.”

Esmeralda crossed her arms. “As though you’ve never heard the word before.”

“As though she’s never said it before,” Victoria offered, sotto voce, but everyone heard.