The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(32)

“Enough.” Esmeralda clapped her hands, as though that would have any effect. “We are going to the musicale. No more discussion. For now, a celebratory tea, I think. Jamison!” she bellowed at a passing footman.

“Yes, milady?”

“Have Henley bring a tea tray.”

“Yes, milady.” He bowed and scuttled from the room, but not before Elizabeth saw him glance at Mary, and Mary’s responding blush. When Mary caught her staring, her eyes widened—a sure sign of guilt—and she bent her head to her needlepoint, effectively destroying her prior work.

“Really, Mary,” Elizabeth said softly, taking a seat at her sister’s side. “I think you’re making a mess.” She nodded at the needlework, but they both knew she referred to something else entirely. Elizabeth worked at pulling out the stitches while she waited for the others to become engaged in a debate on whether or not they should plan a ball at Sinclair House. Then she whispered to her youngest and most flighty sister, “Well?”

“Well?” Mary’s cheeks were red, but she held her head high.

“He’s a footman.”

“He’s very handsome.”

Was he? Perhaps, in a young, too-pretty kind of way. “Esmeralda will have apoplexy if she notices your flirtation.”

Mary thrust her chin out. “It’s more than that.”

Oh dear God.

“We’re in love.”

Elizabeth gaped at her sister. Love? “How can you be in love? He’s a footman.”

“That does not signify. He is a man. I am a woman—”

“You’re sixteen!”

Mary sniffed. “The duke wants to marry me off, that makes me a woman. You cannot have it both ways.”

“You realize the duke would not approve of a footman.”

“You can’t know that.”

Yes. She very well could. She sucked in a breath and tried again. “The world we live in—”

“I hate it.”

“What?” Elizabeth stared at her sister. “I thought you loved the parties and the balls and the dresses.”

“I do love the dresses.” She smoothed down her silk skirt. “But I would give it all up for love. Wouldn’t you?”

Oh dear. There was no answer for that, was there? Especially when that was exactly what Elizabeth had decided to do—should Hamish have her.

But this was Mary.

It was different.

Mary was far too young to make a decision of this magnitude. Did she not see what a foolish mistake this was? Did she not understand—?

A thought occurred, one that made Elizabeth go hot, then cold.

She was a raging hypocrite.

For one thing, she was preaching one truth to her sister and another to herself.

Did love trump money and social status? Did it truly?

She knew in her heart that the answer was yes.

But there was more. She was painting Mary with the same brush Hamish had painted her. As a girl too young to know her own heart. And she’d been furious with him.

“Elizabeth?” Mary’s quiet call pulled her from her dark ruminations. “Are you going to tell Aunt Esmeralda?”

Oh, how to answer her? “I’m torn.”

Mary sighed. “I understand.”

“Just please be careful. Don’t do anything—” Rash? Silly? Foolish? None of those would work. “Permanent. Not just yet. Please?”

Her sister smiled, a glowing grin. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

Wouldn’t she? Judging from her expression, especially when Jamison came back into the room carrying the tea tray for Henley, she already had.

She’d given away her heart.

To a footman.

It was a tragedy of epic proportions.





Chapter Twelve


Though they marched into the Smythe-Winston musicale as though to a funeral, they were greeted with gladness . . . and curiosity. Whenever a household withdrew completely from the season, it was always a matter of intense interest.

Elizabeth laughed and waved off some of the more ridiculous suppositions, as they had all agreed they would.

No. They had not succumbed to the plague.

No. Their home had not been invaded by rats.

No. There had not been a fire.

And on and on and on.

“I heard Tiverton kidnapped her,” Lady Jane Astley whispered over lemonade as they waited for the dreaded musicale to begin. Lady Jane and Elizabeth had attended Miss Welles’s School for Girls together for a time and were friendly, so Jane backed off of that tidbit when Elizabeth chuckled.

“He was rather fond of her, but no.”

“He disappeared the same time you withdrew,” Sally Albright said with a hiss to her accusation.

Elizabeth blinked. “Did he? I wouldn’t know.”

“She’s been ill,” Victoria responded. “We all had a horrible stomach bug. Haven’t left the house.”

Sally’s eyes narrowed. “I heard it was a fever.”

“That too,” Victoria said brightly.

“So where is Lady Catherine?” Sally asked.

Fortunately, at just that moment, Lord Twiggenberry approached. For once, Elizabeth was relieved to see him. “My lord,” she said, lifting her hand. He kissed it, all too reverently.