Page 120 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

Esmeralda covered her hand. “What is it, dear?”

“I . . .” Oh, how to say this? “Were you happy in your marriage, Aunt Esmeralda?”

Her snort rounded the room. “Define happy.” When she saw Isobel’s expression, she sobered. “Oh, I suppose I was. Some of the time. When I had a lover, certainly.”

“Did it . . . ? Did he . . . ?”

“What?”

“Change you?”

“Change me? My dear, every experience I have ever had in my life has changed me. That’s what life is.”

“What if I doona want to change?”

“Then,” she said, “you are bound for great disappointment. And probably a lot of pain.”

That was hardly the answer Isobel was looking for.

“The fact is, no matter what decisions you make, they will lead to change. Even trying to stay the same will lead to change. That is the great paradox of our existence. The trick is to make decisions that create change for the better. Such as your wedding to Stirling.”

“You’re certain it would be for the better?”

“Of course. You will be a countess, then a duchess. You will live a life of luxury. You will have great power.”

“And if none of that matters to me?”

“It should.”

“Should it?”

“Look at how the Duchess of Moncrieff uses her position. She funds orphanages, she crusades for prison reform, she rescues strays, feeds the poor.”

“I dinna know she did all that.” Though it was not surprising.

“She doesn’t crow about it as others might. But Kaitlin wasn’t born wealthy. When she married Edward, she made an oath to use their resources to change the world for the better. And she has. You will have choices like that, too. Or, of course, you can attend balls.”

Isobel smiled. “I thought that was what duchesses do.”

“Many of them. Again, a choice.”

“But what about marriage itself? Isn’t it a prison? Truly?”

Her aunt pinned her with a gimlet gaze. “I’ll be honest. It can be, if you marry the wrong man. But Stirling isn’t the wrong man. Is he?”

“Nae.” He wasn’t.

“Just imagine, you could be marrying an overbearing oaf, as I did. A man who demands you fit in a configuration of his design. Stirling does not strike me as that kind of man. In fact, he adores you just as you are. There’s a lot to be said for a man like that.” She sighed. “I wish I’d had a man like that.”

They sat in silence then, and stared at the fire for a peaceful while. Isobel leaned her chin on her fist.

“You mother said you were sick this morning.”

“Mmm.”

“Have, ah, you been sick much?”

“Not really. Just now and again.”