The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(39)

“Of course.”

“Well,” Victoria gusted. “My work here is done. I shall go downstairs and have Henley bring you another chocolate in the sitting room. I’ve had all of yours.”

And her sister was gone before Elizabeth could even scowl her displeasure.

*

It occurred to Elizabeth that morning calls were, beyond all things, irritating.

And it wasn’t just the overwhelming scent of Twiggenberry’s lilies pollenating all over the room. The family’s reemergence into the season had unleashed a wave of curiosity about the St. Claire sisters and all the gossips came to call.

Lady Callinda Frey arrived with her companion, the beak-nosed Althea Clark, and they stared about the room like birds seeking crumbs. Belinda Battersby was there as well, along with the venomous Sally Albright, though none of the St. Claire sisters even remotely considered her a friend.

That was the horrible thing about polite society.

On occasion, one had to be polite.

Elizabeth sat on the divan and sipped her chocolate and listened as a truly distasteful conversation swirled around her. All the allegations of last night were regurgitated and explored over and over again. But Elizabeth let Aunt Esmeralda do the talking. For one thing, her aunt was infinitely better at setdowns, and for another, Elizabeth was happy to sit silently and reflect on last night.

Over and over again.

“Do wake up.” Victoria nudged her with an elbow. Thank heaven her chocolate was all gone.

“I am awake.”

“You’re hardly participating.”

Elizabeth gifted her sister with a sardonic look. It said: Who in their right mind would?

“I heard you had Scots,” Lady Callinda said suddenly, and apropos of nothing, in a sharp—yes, birdlike—tone.

“So had I,” Miss Althea Clark parroted. “Where are they?”

Esmeralda gored them with a quelling glance. “Scotland, I daresay?”

“They’ve gone?” Callinda said on a pout. “I was so looking forward to meeting them.”

“Hamish is back,” Victoria said, which earned her a glower from their aunt.

“Oooh. Hamish,” Callinda gusted. “Sounds delicious.”

“Lady Jersey did say he was delicious,” Miss Althea said.

“Do call him down,” Callinda demanded.

Esmeralda’s eyes narrowed chillingly. “He is not a trained monkey who performs on command.”

Lady Callinda blinked. “He is a Scot.”

“He is not here for the entertainment of the ton. He is here to protect the duke’s dear cousins. His Grace does adore them so.”

“Does he?” Lady Callinda strafed them all with a dubious glance.

Her condescension made Elizabeth’s hackles rise. “He has given us his house, purchased our wardrobes, funded our season, and gifted us with very generous dowries,” she snapped. “I daresay he does care for us.”

“Well, it must be nice to be the sole relatives of a wealthy duke.”

“It is. It is indeed. But Lachlan is a wonderful man.” Hardly a lie. Surely he was.

Lady Callinda blanched. “Lachlan, is it?”

Elizabeth glowered. “It is.”

“Funny,” Miss Althea whispered in a whisper that was far from faint. “I’d heard Scots weren’t generous in the least.”

“I’d heard that as well.”

All the nasty ladies nodded and agreed, making Elizabeth want to tear out her hair.

Or, better yet, theirs.

Esmeralda must have suspected an eruption was imminent, because she said, “Elizabeth, dear, will you go ask Henley to bring more cakes?” when they all knew full good and well that a tug on the bellpull would accomplish the same.

“I would be delighted,” she gushed, with all sincerity.

It was supremely wonderful to escape the room.

She took her time wandering to the kitchen. Though she wouldn’t have, had she known Hamish was there. He was sitting at Cook’s rough-hewn table wolfing down an enormous plate of eggs and bacon. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

Henley, however, did not smile. He reared back and stared at her with an outraged expression. This was, of course, the equivalent of her invading his private kingdom. “Lady Elizabeth,” he barked. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” She nodded effusively. “Aunt Esmeralda would like more cakes.”

“Is there something wrong with the bellpull?” But it was a rhetorical question. He knew there was not. He hustled into the pantry to fill a new tray.

Elizabeth sashayed over to Hamish’s side. She didn’t touch him, because it would probably scandalize Cook, who was watching her warily from the corner of her eye. “That’s a lot of eggs,” she observed.

“I’m hungry.” He winked. “For some reason.”

Her grin matched his. “I cannot imagine why.”

“Was there something wrong with the bellpull?” he asked curiously.

“No. I needed to leave the room or I might have killed someone.”

His eyes widened and he laughed through a mouthful. “That bad?”

“Worse, actually. Apparently word’s gotten out that we have a trained monkey and all the ladies want to see him perform.”