Page 21 of The Highlander Is All That

“We all look alike,” Mary added.

They did. “Like matched horses.” Elizabeth whirled around and frowned at her sisters. “Why is it they want us all to look alike?”

“To remind us we are cattle?” Anne suggested. There was hardly any bitterness in her tone at all.

Catherine chuckled. “Don’t be silly.”

“You can be blasé,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “You are betrothed. We, however, are on the marriage mart.”

Anne sighed. “Cattle at auction.”

“Come now. It’s not so bad.”

“Again, you can be blasé.” Elizabeth pulled on her gloves. “By the way, will Duncan be coming tonight?”

“To Almack’s?” Catherine said on a laugh. “I think not.”

“Our Scotsmen will be there,” Mary said.

“I think Duncan would rather be drawn and quartered than attend the assembly houses.”

“As would I,” Anne muttered.

“You could always plead a megrim,” Catherine suggested. “It works for me. In fact, now that I mention it, I do believe I feel one coming on.” She set her hand to her forehead and flopped back on the divan.

The younger girls laughed, but Elizabeth was not amused. “Never say you are crying off! This is Almack’s.”

“As you so generously pointed out, Elizabeth, I am betrothed. There’s no need for me to attend.”

“You’re my friend. You should be there to support me.”

“I would only get in the way.” Oh, her grin was wicked. “All those beaus flocking to my side and all.”

Elizabeth put out a lip. She was not keen on attending Almack’s herself, after all the stories she’d heard. It was, apparently, stuffy to the extreme—both in atmosphere and mood. “I think I feel a megrim coming on myself,” she announced.

“Oh no you don’t.” Catherine shook a finger. “You have to go.”

Anne snorted. “Aunt Esmeralda would not be fooled. I daresay she would drag us to the coach by the hair, megrim or no.”

Victoria nodded solemnly. “She is very pleased about the vouchers.”

Indeed. They were something of a coup.

“It is only right for us to appreciate all the work she’s done on our behalf,” Anne said on a long-suffering sigh. She glanced around the room. “Shall we?”

And with that, and one more quick glance in the glass, they headed downstairs, leaving Catherine relaxing on the divan with a smirk on her face.

Halfway down, Elizabeth caught sight of something in the foyer, something that made her breath stall, made her heart patter.

Hamish. Tall, muscular, and absolutely glorious in a full Scottish dress kilt.

Oh, had he been handsome before?

Now he was breathtaking.

When he caught sight of her and stared with that piercing glance, she nearly lost her footing and tumbled down the stairs. How mortifying would that have been? She took a moment to collect herself and then, clinging to the banister, made her way, as gracefully as she could, to the ground floor.

She tried desperately to keep her gaze trained on anything but him. The baron stood next to him looking equally grand, but for some reason, he did not make her weak at the knees.