“It is a matter of duty, Kenneth. That is all. It is always duty.”
Kenneth simply nodded at him, his expression one of maddening, gentle skepticism. He didn’t press, though, nor argue further. Benedict knew that, for a man like him, his silence was more damning than any accusation.
He stood up, adjusting his cuffs. “Well, if it is only duty, Ben, I suggest you try looking a bit less like a man who has finally found something he can’t govern. It makes the rest of us feel terribly inadequate.” Kenneth clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Good day, Your Grace. I trust your accounts will soon be settled,” he said loudly, so that others would overhear and not misconstrue their conversation.
Benedict watched his friend walk away. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, the gesture utterly undisciplined, but he did not care. He knew Kenneth was wrong about the besotted part.Love was a weakness, a cruelty he couldn’t afford. But he also knew Kenneth was right about everything else.
He was intensely and physically rattled.
And the Duchess was entirely to blame.
Chapter Sixteen
“Keep your chin high, Isla,” Benedict murmured, his voice low just for her. He steered her through a cluster of staring dowagers. “Their opinions are as dusty as their headpieces.”
The low murmur of the reception felt less like a crowd and more like a thousand buzzing insects. All of whom were focused on Isla. She clung to Benedict’s arm, her spine stiff in the emerald silk gown. Whispers followed around them like swirling smoke.
“I remember how to conduct myself, Yer Grace,” Isla replied, maintaining a steady pace beside him.
She felt the familiar mix of gratitude for his defense and irritation at his assumption of her weakness.
The two days that followed Lady Featherstone’s ball were filled with all the appointments and chores they needed to complete before returning to the countryside. Isla suspected some ofthat included Christmas shopping for Oliver, as well as some business transactions. She had been most preoccupied by the modiste, needing to acquire more gowns befitting her station.
Isla was brought back to the present moment when a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman with an open, cheerful face intercepted their path, his hand already extended toward Benedict.
“Your Grace! You kept this close to the chest,” the man exclaimed, his voice booming slightly over the gentle orchestral music. “Congratulations are certainly in order. I am most happy for you.”
“Your Grace,” Benedict replied in kind, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips. “I had little choice in the speed of the affair. Allow me to present my wife, the Duchess of Ealdwick. Isla, this is the Duke and Duchess of Arrowfell, Hugo and Elspeth.”
Isla curtseyed, and her breath caught as she looked at the Duchess of Arrowfell. Elspeth had a warm, open face and a decidedly earthy quality that felt instantly familiar. She looked more fairy than human, yet incredibly elegant and captivating. Isla liked her instantly.
“It is a pleasure, Yer Grace,” Isla said formally.
Elspeth’s smile widened, and she took Isla’s hand, giving it an extra, firm squeeze. “Aye! Away with the formality, lass! While you are at Arrowfell, me name is Elspeth. And bless me, yer accent is as unmistakable as mine.” She leaned closer, her voicedropping conspiratorially. “I knew there was a reason I liked you straight away.”
Isla’s face lit up. “I am! From Dalrigh Hall. Ye are Scottish, too? Oh heavens, I am terribly happy to meet ye!”
“Through and through, though Hugo dragged me down to England, unfortunately,” Elspeth winked. “Quite literally if ye can imagine!”
“Aye, I think I can,” Isla said with a hearty giggle as she looked between Hugo and Benedict.
“It is a relief to finally meet another kin in these stiflin’ drawin’ rooms,” Elspeth said with another wink. “Lucky for me, we still keep our home in Scotland, so we get up there a few times each year. Do ye ken Inverhall?”
A wave of homesickness and pure joy washed over Isla. They spent the next quarter of an hour discussing the relative merits of Edinburgh versus London and the latest novel written by the mastermind behindThe Highland Holiday.Benedict and Hugo stood beside them, exchanging dry comments and clearly enjoying the unexpected kinship.
“I suppose we should get these two together more often,” Hugo said as he offered Benedict a brandy. “You will have to invite us to stay with you at Ealdwick. I have not been in some time.”
“We would be delighted,” Isla said, a bright smile on her face as she looked at Elspeth.
“It is settled then. After the holidays,” Benedict said as he tipped his glass back.
“There she is,” Eilidh said as she and Aunt Honoria approached them. Isla imagined they were also most eager to greet the Duke and Duchess of Arrowfell.
“Your Graces, it is an honor to be here at Arrowfell townhouse,” Aunt Honoria said with a deep curtsy. “Your Grace, I hear you are also from Scotland?” She said, looking toward Elspeth then.
“Aye, I surely am,” she said with a smile.
While Elspeth charmed Aunt Honoria, Isla managed to pull her younger sister aside toward a quieter alcove, near a large potted fern.
