Page 70 of The Highlander Is All That

Over and over again.

“Do wake up.” Victoria nudged her with an elbow. Thank heaven her chocolate was all gone.

“I am awake.”

“You’re hardly participating.”

Elizabeth gifted her sister with a sardonic look. It said: Who in their right mind would?

“I heard you had Scots,” Lady Callinda said suddenly, and apropos of nothing, in a sharp—yes, birdlike—tone.

“So had I,” Miss Althea Clark parroted. “Where are they?”

Esmeralda gored them with a quelling glance. “Scotland, I daresay?”

“They’ve gone?” Callinda said on a pout. “I was so looking forward to meeting them.”

“Hamish is back,” Victoria said, which earned her a glower from their aunt.

“Oooh. Hamish,” Callinda gusted. “Sounds delicious.”

“Lady Jersey did say he was delicious,” Miss Althea said.

“Do call him down,” Callinda demanded.

Esmeralda’s eyes narrowed chillingly. “He is not a trained monkey who performs on command.”

Lady Callinda blinked. “He is a Scot.”

“He is not here for the entertainment of the ton. He is here to protect the duke’s dear cousins. His Grace does adore them so.”

“Does he?” Lady Callinda strafed them all with a dubious glance.

Her condescension made Elizabeth’s hackles rise. “He has given us his house, purchased our wardrobes, funded our season, and gifted us with very generous dowries,” she snapped. “I daresay he does care for us.”

“Well, it must be nice to be the sole relatives of a wealthy duke.”

“It is. It is indeed. But Lachlan is a wonderful man.” Hardly a lie. Surely he was.

Lady Callinda blanched. “Lachlan, is it?”

Elizabeth glowered. “It is.”

“Funny,” Miss Althea whispered in a whisper that was far from faint. “I’d heard Scots weren’t generous in the least.”

“I’d heard that as well.”

All the nasty ladies nodded and agreed, making Elizabeth want to tear out her hair.

Or, better yet, theirs.

Esmeralda must have suspected an eruption was imminent, because she said, “Elizabeth, dear, will you go ask Henley to bring more cakes?” when they all knew full good and well that a tug on the bellpull would accomplish the same.

“I would be delighted,” she gushed, with all sincerity.

It was supremely wonderful to escape the room.

She took her time wandering to the kitchen. Though she wouldn’t have, had she known Hamish was there. He was sitting at Cook’s rough-hewn table wolfing down an enormous plate of eggs and bacon. She smiled at him and he smiled back.