“Charmin’,” she muttered, though the word was laced with sarcasm as bitter as their last meal. “Looks like it has been waitin’ to swallow me whole. Aye, and those iron fences ye have around the property will be sturdy enough to keep me caged.”
The Duke sighed, a sound of weary exasperation, as he removed his gloves one finger at a time. “It is a most fine townhouse, Lady Inverhall. And for now, it is your home. I will make sure that you have everything you need. You could fare much worse.”
“I daenae need yer charity.”
“Even so, I do wish you to consider this a home. I want you to feel comfortable?—”
“Me home is in Scotland. By the loch, with heather on the hills and the wind in me hair,” she said wistfully, turning to face him, her chest heavy with sadness. “Ye have dragged me away from everything I’ve kent for yer convenience. What harm would it do to let me stay at Inverhall? Did ye even consider?—”
He stiffened. “I considered what was necessary. What is best for our futures.”
“Our futures?” Elspeth scoffed, pushing past him to the carriage door. “Or yer own?”
She did not wait for his reply, stepping out onto the cobbled drive. He leaped out of the carriage, following close behind as they entered the townhouse.
“Lady Inverhall,” the Duke announced, leading her through the ornate front door and into the grand foyer. “These are the servants who will see to your needs. You will stay with us until a suitable match has been secured, and that is all.” He turned to his housekeeper, a formidable woman with a no-nonsense air. “Please show Lady Inverhall to the guest room.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said with a small bow. “Lady Inverhall, I am Mrs. Whipple. If you would kindly follow me, I will introduce you to your maid later this evening.”
Elspeth barely had time to glare at the Duke before she was whisked upstairs, leaving him alone in the foyer. She listened to him in the distance, barking orders until his voice finally faded away.
She had to walk quickly to keep pace with Mrs. Whipple, and before she knew it, they had gone up the grand staircase to the second floor.
Her quarters were located on the east side of the house, with large picture windows that overlooked the gardens and serene jade walls. She looked at the elegant four-poster bed, adorned with a lush gold brocade duvet and oversized pillows. In the corner was a vanity set, carved from marble, complete with a large mirror that shimmered in the morning light.
“We will have your belongings brought up quietly,” Mrs. Whipple offered. “You can feel free to rest and settle yourself before the dinner party this evening. You must have had a very long journey, My Lady.”
“Dinner party?” Elspeth echoed, nervousness coating her now dry throat.
“Why, yes. His Grace informed us that you will be attending Lord and Lady Ashworth’s dinner party. It is just a few houses down from here.”
“Aye, I see,” Elspeth murmured, plopping down on the most comfortable bed she had ever lain in.
Later that night, Hugo waited in the foyer of Arrowfell Townhouse to escort Lady Inverhall to a dinner party. It was to be hosted by Lord and Lady Ashworth, a notable couple in London society who ran in the same circles as him.
Much as he wished to recover after such an arduous journey, time was not to be wasted. There would be many eligible bachelors in attendance and connections to be made.
Hugo watched the Dowager Marchioness descend the grand staircase, wearing a painfully simple dress of lavender muslin that hugged her curves well enough, but was out of fashion by several years. Her wild brown hair was pulled up elegantly, with only a few curls framing her face. He watched as one of his maids, Abby, trailed behind her, knowing that it was her good work.
“Well done, Abby,” he praised with a nod. “Lady Inverhall is a vision.”
“It is all Her Ladyship’s doing, I can assure you, Your Grace. Lady Inverhall is a delight.” The maid curtsied.
“Oh, is she?” Hugo raised an eyebrow, rubbing his other hand along his bearded jaw.
“I am right here, ye ken?” Elspeth scoffed as she joined him. “Shall we get this farce over with? Will they be servin’ any good food, or just yer tasteless English fodder?”
“Perhaps it is best if you keep the conversation to a minimum tonight, Lady Inverhall.”
She shot him a scathing glare.
No sooner had they set foot on the main thoroughfare than they arrived at Ashworth House. They stepped into the glittering drawing room, where grand chandeliers cast an ambient amber light around them, only accentuated by the clinking of champagne glasses.
A wave of hushed whispers rippled through the assembled guests as they made their entrance.
“Ye are paradin’ me around like a prize mare,” Lady Inverhall hissed, her voice low but furious.
“The sooner you are presented, the sooner suitors will appear,” Hugo replied, his voice equally low, his jaw tight. “I am a pragmatist.”
