“Beg your pardon, Lady Inverhall?” Lord Cranmore asked, arching an eyebrow as though he hadn’t quite heard correctly.
Though, of course, he had.
Then, he offered a tight, mirthless smile. “Forgive me, but I’ve always found Highland customs rathertheatrical. Moss poultices, muttered incantations… They are superstitions masquerading as medicine.” He waved a dismissive hand. “But I suppose in the glens, one must take what one can get. Education and refinement aren’t easy to come by when you are miles away from civilization.”
A wave of laughter rippled through the group. Elspeth noted it, felt its sting.
She saw the Duke of Arrowfell tense across from her, his gaze darkening. However, she remained still. Still as a loaded pistol. She could not quell the storm that had begun swirling inside of her.
She took a steadying breath as she faced Lord Cranmore head-on.
If this is how ye want it to be, so be it.
“Folk remedies, ye call them? And what is yer modern medicine but a collection of folk remedies, only with more expensive bottles and a grander name?” She paused, then leaned in conspiratorially. Her voice dropped, though it was stillloud enough to carry. “Besides, some things work best when whispered with the right words…”
She began to mutter, low and rapid, a string of Gaelic phrases under her breath.
“Bidh am fuachd a’ teicheadh… teicheadh an tinneas…”
The lords exchanged uncomfortable looks, some laughing lightly and some coughing.
Lord Cranmore edged away, paling slightly.
“What is she saying?” he whispered to Lord Fairfax. “Is she… is she casting a spell on us?”
“Do not look to me for an explanation,” Lord Fairfax muttered as he stepped back. “I am fluent in many tongues, but madness is not one of them.”
The Duke, who had been standing a few paces back as he conversed with an old acquaintance, pressed his lips into a thin line. He shot Elspeth a glare, which she knew was a silent command for her to stop her game.
She shook her head in defiance. She would not silence herself, not for reputation or anyone else.
The air hummed with polite chatter and the distant strains of a string trio at Lord Cranmore’s garden party. The Duke had told her that he hoped this more relaxed setting might make her more amenable to London’s social norms.
He was, as usual, mistaken.
Elspeth merely straightened up, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across her face. Her eyes met the Duke’s for a fleeting moment, a challenge in their depths. Then, she turned back to the now-visibly unnerved men, who were slowly growing sparser, which sent a small thrill through her veins.
“Aye, I was lost in me thoughts for a moment. It was just a little blessin’,” she said, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “For yer good health and prosperity, of course, Me Lords.”
“Right then, most charming, Lady Inverhall,” Lord Cranmore stammered, backing away as he pointed over his shoulder. “I must be elsewhere.”
“Indeed,” one of the other lords agreed, practically tripping over his feet to follow. “Lady Inverhall.”
The few remaining gentlemen, clearly unsettled, mumbled hurried excuses, and within moments, the group had fully dissipated. Elspeth was left standing alone, triumph warming her chest.
The Duke pushed off the table he had been leaning against, mumbled something to his acquaintance, and strode toward her, his expression thunderous.
“And what exactly was that performance?” he asked as he came to a stop, looming over her.
“I was merely sharin’ some of me Highland wisdom with the esteemed lords ye saw fit for me to throw meself at, Yer Grace,” she said with a wry smile.
“You will remember that our attendance here is foryourbenefit, not mine. The sooner you secure a suitable husband, the sooner you will move on with your life. Do you understand me?”
“Oh, perfectly, Yer Grace.” She gave him a wink as she sauntered away to meander about the grounds. “I will be sure to be me most charmin’, authentic self,” she called over her shoulder.
Hugo watched her closely as she walked around the grounds, a muscle ticking in his jaw when he noticed potential suitors politely avoiding her. Whenever she approached a group, a subtle shift occurred. He was unsure if it was her earlier stunt with the lords or if word of her reputation had somehow reached London.
At first, he thought it was a coincidence, but each time, he noted the lords turning their backs to her, suddenly becoming engrossed in their conversations.
