Page 16 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“The part that most concerns you.”

“You are the eldest. It is your duty to have sons.”

“I will no doubt have them.” Then which world would he raise them in?

“You may care little for your future,” his father said, “but if my property falls to Lydia, she will ruin your sisters and mother.”

Erroll wished he could argue, but his elder sister was quite capable of wreaking vengeance on his siblings because their father had sired two children with his mistress Moira while married to her mother.

“As you said, you can produce another son,” Erroll said. “Not to mention, you have provided the ladies an ample dowry and allowance. Mother’s jewels alone will keep her and the girls comfortable, and my mother does have property of her own.”

“Would you have your mother and sisters rely on her jewels for their livelihood?”

No, he would not, and said so.

“I will not have my holdings—not to mention Ravenhall—fall to Lydia and her husband,” the marquess said.

“I thought you liked Connor.”

“I do. He deserves better than Lydia. But Ravenhall is not the Douglas ancestral home. Generations of MacLeans have grown up there. Even you, though I wonder if you remember.”

His father rose and crossed to the hearth where he stared down into the fire, hands clasped behind his back. He was silent for so long, Erroll began to wonder if he had said all he meant to say.

Then his calm voice broke the silence. “You have cinched the English noose more tightly around our necks.”

A rare flash of anger flared. “Is that how you see my mother; an English noose strangling you?”

His father’s blazing eyes snapped onto him. “You are never again to insinuate that I disparage your mother.”

Shame coursed through him. He’d gone too far. The truth was, it was King George III who had placed the noose around their necks when he’d ordered the marriage of the newly widowed marquess to an English duke’s daughter. The marquess, despite his faults, knew his duty to king and family, and brooked no disrespect against his English wife.

“My apologies,” Erroll said.

“I am sorry your duty is such a burden.” His father’s gaze bore into him. “Do you believe Ash is powerful enough to protect your sister Olivia from Lydia’s wrath once we’re gone?”

No. Sweet Lydia would sacrifice everything to ruin the son and daughter of the marquess’ beloved Moira MacLean.

*****

Kidnapping was a crime, but a wedding must take place, and Eve had reconciled herself to the fact that she had to get Lord Rushton married to Grace before their father enforced his will. She slowed as she and her mother entered the ballroom of Lord Grendall’s party. Her mother strolled on without looking back as Eve scanned the crowd. Her gaze caught on a tall man on the dance floor but when he turned, she saw he wasn’t Lord Rushton. Nevertheless, her pulse refused to slow. He shouldn’t be here, but the ballroom was immense and she could easily miss him in the crowd. The time was ten thirty, and she hadn’t encountered him at the other four soirees she had already visited. If all had gone as planned, Lord Rushton had been shanghaied and was on his way to Gretna where Grace waited to marry him.

“Eve?”

Eve turned toward her mother, who had stopped a few feet away and was looking at her.

“Are you coming?”

“I see Miss Haverly,” Eve said. “I want to say hello to her.” When her mother frowned, Eve said, “Don’t worry, I will join you directly.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “I will wait with Lady Collins there in that alcove.” She pointed to the right wall where a group of ladies stood, then started in that direction. “Do not be long.”

Eve angled left toward the first of the two columns on that side of the room. She reached the column and allowed herself to release a slow breath. This night couldn’t end too soon for her liking.

“Really—” Eve stilled at the sound of Lady Annabelle Quincy’s silky voice leaching around the column “—how did their father decide which of them to saddle Lord Rushton with?”

“And how did Lord Rushton go from one sister’s bed to the other?” demanded a second woman, Lady Willamina Consworth, if Eve wasn’t mistaken.

Throughout the evening, she’d overheard women making low comments within her hearing, pretending to be unaware of her presence, but none so rude as this.