Page 131 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“You cannot make me.”

His mouth thinned. “This is my fault. I indulged you. Have you no sense?”

“He is a viscount. I intend to marry a marquess or a duke.”

Pain crossed Lord Somerset’s face and Eve’s heart twisted.

“This is your mother’s doing,” their father said. “She has filled your head with ridiculous notions.”

“Eve married an earl who will one day be a marquess. If she can do it, so can I.”

“There will not be a repeat of this mess,” their father snapped.

“Grace,” Eve quickly said, “you must have known this would happen.” Eve could only wonder that she hadn’t given it further thought herself, but that, she realized, had to do with the dark haired earl she’d married.

“I did not,” Grace said. “Forgive me, Lord Somerset, I mean no disrespect, but we will not suit. Say what you will, Papa. I will not marry him.”

“Then I will make arrangement for a convent.”

She snorted. “To what end?”

“I cannot say,” he replied. “Perhaps they can teach you what I could not.”

“Forgive me for interrupting, Lord Tolland,” the marchioness said. “I understand your concern, but perhaps this is just a bit of a shock for your daughter. True, she is as guilty as Rush and Eve for the fix the girls were in, but she is young, and probably didn’t realize the real dangers of their scheme. It might be that she needs a little time to consider Lord Somerset’s offer.”

“Somerset and I have worked out the particulars of the marriage contract,” their father said.

“Contract?” Grace exploded.

“I am speaking of something more delicate,” the marchioness cut in. “Grace needs to better understand the man who petitions for her hand. I gather this offer is quite unexpected. Is that right, my dear?” Lady Rushton looked at her.

“It is,” she replied, “but I will not marry him in any case.”

“A lady does not refuse a gentleman without having heard his offer of marriage. You must keep in mind that your father has your best interests at heart, and therefore give Lord Somerset an opportunity to present himself.”

Grace hesitated, then acquiesced with a stiff nod.

Lady Rushton patted her hand. “Now then, perhaps you should take a little time for yourself. We shall have tea in a bit. The pink parlor. That is a favorite of yours, is it not?”

“It is a lovely room, ma’am.”

“Fine, then. We shall all adjourn there later with some of our guests. We cannot forget this is Erroll and Eve’s wedding party.”

Eve’s father bowed. “You are most kind, Lady Rushton.”

“Think nothing of it. I was young once and haven’t forgotten the surprise of an unexpected marriage contract.”

“Grace,” their father said, “perhaps you will allow Lord Somerset to escort you back to your chambers. I will come along.”

Grace rose and, ever the gentleman, Lord Somerset offered his arm, but Eve wondered how much he wanted to escort her anywhere—or whether he still wanted to marry her, given her outburst.

They left, but the marchioness remained seated. She blew out a breath. “Your sister is none too happy.”

“No.” Eve couldn’t repress a sigh. “She said she knew what she was getting into, but I fear she did not. It is my fault for concocting the ridiculous kidnapping plan.”

“Lord Somerset seems like a decent man.”

“I believe he is.”