Page 96 of The Highlander Is All That

Simpler tastes? He had no idea what she was alluding to, but judging from her expression, she assumed he was following.

“What if I ran away? Say, with a footman?”

He blanched. “Doona even jest about that.”

“It could help.”

“It will no’ help.”

“Of course it could. If Elizabeth’s indiscretion could ruin my reputation, then my indiscretion could ruin hers. Twiggenberry would have to toss her aside.”

“Not necessarily.”

“But she could refuse him then, couldn’t she? If she were not trying to protect us? Her sisters? Three women who neither want nor need such protection?”

Was he mad, or was she starting to make sense? Or was his rising hope engulfing his reason?

“There is still the duke’s reputation to consider,” he found himself saying. “You owe better to a man who took you in on trust. We all owe it to him to honor his reputation.”

She peered at him as though she could see far too much of his soul.

“What do you owe the duke?” she asked.

“Everything.” He’d saved Hamish’s life and livelihood.

Mary put out a lip and kicked her feet, making her look very young indeed. “You know him. Do you think he would care so much what high society thought of his relatives?”

Hamish nearly laughed. Lachlan would probably like them better if they did mutiny. But he could hardly say that to this child. She was far too volatile. “I canna, in good conscience, advise you to ruin your life with such folly.”

“Pfft. You know I don’t give a fig.”

“Nae doubt your aunt would.”

Mary smiled. It was a horrifying smile for a man to see because he had no idea what it meant, but it made little skitters dance up his spine. “She would forgive me.” Then she patted him on the hand, hopped to her feet, and quit the room. But not before smiling again and saying, “Thank you for the talk.”

He wasn’t sure if he’d made things better or worse.

But if he were a betting man, he’d go for worse.

* * *

He fully intended to relay the conversation to Ranald and ask for his take on it, but when he came over from Ross House the next morning, the household was in an uproar.

Mary, it seemed, was as good as her word.

She had, indeed, run away.

And Jamison, the handsome young footman without two farthings to rub together, had gone with her.

Chapter Nineteen

“I knew she was planning something.” Elizabeth honked into a handkerchief. Since she’d gone to wake Mary and discovered her closet in a riot—with key items missing—she hadn’t been able to stop crying. “This is all my fault.”

“It is not your fault,” Victoria insisted. “We all know how impulsive Mary is.”

Elizabeth gaped at her. “She ran away. With a footman!”

“My point exactly. And incidentally, she is in love with Jamison.”