The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(50)

“Hamish. You’ve been drinking—”

“Nae, Ranald. She’s the one who agreed to marry another man. She took my heart and crushed it like a . . .” He made crushing motions with his fist as he sought an apt analogy. “Like a thing that is crushed.”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“Of course you dinna.”

His snide tone enflamed her anger. “You have another woman. You always have. And you never told me.”

“Of course I never told you.” He took a step toward her, clearly intending to say more, which she wasn’t sure she could bear, but he stumbled on the carpet and fell flat on his face.

The next sound that came from him was a wheezing snore.

“Well,” Bower said, staring down at his friend. “That dinna go well at all.”

It was a game attempt at a joke, but Elizabeth was in no mood.

Though she hated the prospect of marrying Twiggenberry, this was so much worse. The illusion that Hamish had loved her had been the only thing keeping her together.

And now, she knew it was a lie.

He had another woman in his life and he had been intending to return to her all along.

She whirled from the library and ran to her room, but she had no idea how she made it there.

Her heart was shattered in pieces and nothing could put them together again.

Nothing.





Chapter Eighteen


Following the debacle at the Moncrieff ball, Elizabeth went into a decline. There was no other word for it.

She curled up under her covers, refused meals, and slept—or pretended to sleep—for days.

She’d never been so miserable.

Her younger sisters were, understandably, befuddled. They couldn’t fathom why she was distraught, because she’d just become engaged to one of the richest men in the ton.

They did not know the truth—at least the whole of it—and Elizabeth was not inclined to share with them.

Anne was the only one who seemed sympathetic, but then, she knew the truth. She came to Elizabeth’s room each morning and tried to get her to drink her chocolate, and when Elizabeth couldn’t be tempted, Anne rubbed her back and hummed tuneless songs.

Victoria and Mary visited as well, but mostly to whisper about her when they thought she was sleeping.

“Do you suppose she’s ill?” Mary asked one day.

“She seems ill.”

“She doesn’t seem like a woman head over heels in love, does she?”

“No. And each time I tell her Twiggenberry has called again, she just groans.”

“They were caught in flagrante delicto,” Mary said.

“That is true.”

Elizabeth’s fury rose. She could not let this go unanswered. She rolled over and barked, “He kissed me against my will.”

Her sisters lurched back in surprise. “Oh my,” Mary said. “You look terrible.”

With a huff, Elizabeth pulled the covers over her head.

The bed dipped as one of them sat. Victoria apparently. “I can understand your annoyance at that. I know you hate being forced into anything. Why, when we were girls and Papa tried to make you eat your vegetables, you threw them at the ormolu clock—”

Mary snorted. “I daresay this is on another plane entirely. Her entire future is at stake. If she doesn’t want to marry a man, she should be allowed to say no.”

“Of course she can say no,” Victoria sniffed. “No one would expect her to say yes if she really didn’t want to.”

“Lady Jersey would,” Elizabeth mumbled from beneath the blankets.

“We don’t give a fig what Lady Jersey thinks,” Victoria said gently.

“Of course you do.” Elizabeth sat up and stared at her sisters, ignoring their grimaces at the state of her red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Everyone does. Everyone has to.” A wail.

“Nonsense.” Mary frowned.

“Ask Aunt Esmeralda. She will tell you.”

“She’s not speaking much.”

Elizabeth stilled. “What do you mean?”

Her sisters exchanged a glance and Victoria shrugged. “Whenever we bring it up she says, not now.”

“She’s canceled morning calls as well,” Mary added.

“And we’ve withdrawn from the season.”

“Again?” Oh, this was not good. The whole point of her sacrifice was so her sisters could continue on in search of their husbands.

“It’s not so bad,” Mary said. “Peter Ross still visits.” She shot a glance at Victoria who, unaccountably, blushed. “And the duchess.”

This was bolstering. “Kaitlin?”

“Yes. I like her,” Mary said.

“And Twiggenberry,” Victoria added. “He comes each day. He’s eager to see you.”

“I can imagine,” Elizabeth muttered. “I can’t see him, of course. I’m still too angry. I would probably flatten his nose.”

Mary laughed. “Oh, you could have Hamish do that.”

To which Elizabeth perked up. “Hamish?” She tried to ask with as casual tone as possible.

“He’s been a bear lately.”

“Oh, a complete bear.” Victoria rolled her eyes. “He and Bower got into a fight in the parlor yesterday.”