Page 120 of The Highlander Is All That

Elizabeth brightened perceptibly. “For me?”

“They appear to be written in code.” Claire laughed. “How like Helena. She knows she cannot write directly to you.”

“Of course not. No one knows where I am. What does she say about Lady Callinda?”

“Oh.” Claire frowned. “It’s not good news.”

“Excellent.”

To which Claire chuckled. “Very good then. She’s been cut by Lady Jersey.”

“Oh dear!” Social disaster!

“Apparently they had words about a certain Scotsman.”

“Oh, brilliant!”

“And someone named Mary has returned to London.”

Elizabeth stilled. “Mary? How is she?”

Her tone must have captured Claire’s attention, because she glanced up. “She’s . . . married.”

“Oh no.”

“To a young man named Jamison.” Elizabeth’s heart plunged. Though she was happy for Mary—she’d been head over heels for the handsome footman—she had likely destroyed her future. “Hmm. Says here Jamison is the esteemed employee of the Baron of Bower.”

Elizabeth blinked. “What?”

“When the season is over, Mary and her husband will be moving to Halkirk—that’s Scotland, is it not?—and Jamison will work at Bower’s distillery.” Claire set the letter down. “That seems like very specific information.”

“It is. But good news.” Maybe Mary would not be reduced to begging after all.

“Your sister Anne took ill in Scotland and will return when she is feeling better.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Elizabeth asked.

Claire shrugged. “It doesn’t say, really.”

“Oh, I hope she’s all right.”

“I’m sure she is. Oh. There’s more. A Lord Twiggenberry—” She paused in her reading to titter. “Twiggenberry? Is that really his name?”

“It is.”

“Oh dear.” Claire’s chuckles were so contagious, Elizabeth found herself chuckling as well.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, because it would help to know what one was laughing about.

“When I was a girl, I once heard a man’s parts described as his twig and berries.”

“No.” Oh. Oh. That was funny.

They giggled for quite a while—through many failed attempts to sober up—before Claire was finally able to resume her reading. “Anyway, Lord, ahem, Twiggenberry has apparently left town. Helena has no idea where he’s gone.”

As long as it wasn’t Clovelly, Elizabeth didn’t care.

“Anything else?” Surely she wasn’t hoping for news about Hamish.