The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(51)

“Did they break anything?”

“No.” Mary sighed. “Aunt Esmeralda stopped them before anything interesting could happen. But she’s asked him to move out.”

Elizabeth’s heart lurched. “What?” Was he going back to her?

“To Ross House,” Victoria said. “Aunt Esmeralda said something about him being able to drink himself to death there without being a bad influence.”

Mary shrugged. “Except on Peter, one would imagine.”

Elizabeth snorted. “Peter hardly needs a bad influence.”

The annoyance on Victoria’s face surprised her. “Don’t talk about Peter like that,” she snapped.

Seriously? “You do know he gambled away the family fortune. Catherine was forced to marry Duncan to save their house.”

“Catherine is in love with Duncan.”

“She wasn’t then!” Elizabeth drew in a breath to calm herself. “But that does not signify. The fact is, the man is an inveterate gambler.”

“He’s changed.”

Oh dear. The tone of Victoria’s voice told a tale all its own. She was besotted.

“Victoria, forget about Peter Ross. Focus on finding a husband. One who will not gamble you into penury.”

Her sister put out a lip. “Honestly. You sound just like our aunt.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“How is it? How?” Victoria sprang to her feet—as tears sprang to her eyes—and she bolted from the room.

After the door slammed behind her, Mary grinned. “Well, you’ve done it now.”

“I’ve done it?” Elizabeth practically fumed. “I can’t believe she is even considering Peter Ross! What is the point of my sacrifice if she marries Peter Ross and lives the rest of her life in the gutter outside Newgate waiting to visit her husband?”

Mary went preternaturally still. “What do you mean, your sacrifice?”

Oh ballocks. “Nothing.”

But Mary was no fool. She stared at Elizabeth. “You’re marrying Twiggenberry . . . for us?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Of course. I see it now. I understand. Oh, Lizzie!” She wrapped her sister in a hug and wouldn’t let go. “I cannot let you.”

“You cannot stop me,” Elizabeth muttered against her shoulder.

Mary pulled back. The expression on her face was . . . frightening. Not like carefree, fanciful Mary in the least. There was a martial light in her eye. And then . . . she smiled.

And Elizabeth’s blood went cold.

*

“What is Mary up to?” Elizabeth asked as she stormed into the parlor that afternoon.

Esmeralda and Victoria, who were holding up a swath of white organza, froze in a guilt-laden tableau. “What was that, gel?” her aunt asked, attempting to tuck the material out of sight, but there was far too much of it.

“What,” Elizabeth barked, “is that?”

Esmeralda blinked several times in succession. Far too many times for her innocence to be believed. “What?”

“That?” She pointed, unerringly, at the heinous material.

“That is nothing,” Victoria said.

“It is decidedly not nothing.” Elizabeth stomped over and yanked out the organza. It kept coming. And coming.

Victoria offered a cheery smile. “We were thinking it would make a nice veil?”

Acid skittered through her veins. “A veil?” Elizabeth plopped down on the divan and buried her face in her hands.

“You had to know we were preparing for the wedding,” her aunt said softly.

Elizabeth lifted her head and stared at her. “So soon?”

Victoria rubbed her back. “Darling. Don’t cry so.”

“Twiggenberry has gone to Canterbury.”

“Oh God.” A wail.

“He shall be back any day with that license.”

“How mortifying.”

“We just wanted you to be prepared when he returns,” Esmeralda said.

Elizabeth gulped. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“You can. And you will.” Her aunt nodded surreptitiously at Victoria.

Victoria frowned at Esmeralda. “Elizabeth doesn’t want to marry Twiggenberry.”

Elizabeth’s heart lurched. After that exchange with Mary, she’d realized she had to keep up the pretension with her sisters. If they knew how unhappy she was with this turn of events, they would stand behind her, even if it meant disaster for their futures. She could not allow that to happen. They had to believe she was delighted to marry the earl. But it cost her to lie. “Of course I . . . want to marry him.”

Victoria snorted. Wetly. “How long have I known you, Elizabeth Alexandria St. Claire?”

Really? What kind of question was that? “You’re a year younger than I am.”

“Precisely. And I can tell when you lie. But what has me baffled is . . . why? Why lie? If you don’t want to marry the man, say so.”

“We were caught in flagrante delicto.”

Victoria blinked. “So?”

“We have to marry.”

To her horror, her sister’s gaze drifted to her belly. “Oh . . .”

Elizabeth swatted her. “Not that.” She glanced at Esmeralda in desperation.