Page 85 of The Highlander Is All That

She could hear the rustle of skirts and the whispers—her aunt, Lady Jersey, the duchess, Ranald, and the duke himself—but she didn’t mind that they were whispering. She really didn’t care to hear what they had to say.

“Here.” Kaitlin, the Duchess of Moncrieff, appeared by her side with a cup of tea. “Drink this.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Please. You’ve had a shock.” Kaitlin pressed the cup closer and Elizabeth caught a whiff of something that was definitely not tea.

She accepted the offering and sipped, relishing the warm burn of excellent whisky. She glanced at her hostess and gave a small smile. “I had heard you were a scandal.”

Kaitlin smiled back. “I do try. Now. Finish that up and come have sandwiches.” As though sandwiches were a cure-all for everything.

They were not.

But perhaps whisky was. “Maybe he will not want to marry me if I am a drunk,” she suggested and took another snort. What a pity it went down the wrong way and made her cough and wheeze. The duchess, very obligingly, patted her back.

“He seems rather resolute in the matter. Such devotion is not such a bad thing in a husband.”

Elizabeth snorted a laugh. “He was resolute enough to force me into that room and kiss me against my will.”

“He did not!”

“He most certainly did. Do you imagine I would kiss that man of my own volition?”

“I was wondering. You did seem a sensible sort.”

“I am.”

“But he is wealthy, I am told. And some say he is handsome.”

“And titled,” Aunt Esmeralda warbled, although no one had invited her to join the conversation at the window.

“We need to figure out how to handle this,” the duke said. He turned to Lady Jersey. “Can you offer suggestions?”

Lady Jersey sniffed. “The most obvious is a special license.”

Elizabeth blanched. “No.”

The reigning queen of the ton fixed Elizabeth with a bland glance and raised a brow. “No?” This she said as though she’d never before heard the word uttered in her presence.

Elizabeth frowned at them all, each in turn. “I didn’t want to go with him. I didn’t want to kiss him. I don’t want to marry him.”

“My gel,” Lady Jersey intoned. “Life is not about what we want.”

Oooh. Elizabeth wanted to smack her. What a pity she was civilized.

As always, her aunt sensed her mood. “Sarah, why don’t you go back to the party? I would hate for you to miss a thing.”

Lady Jersey bristled. “Nonsense. This is far more interesting.”

“Twiggenberry is waiting,” Ranald reminded them. It had been a major coup, keeping him out of this discussion, but the duke—bless him—had insisted.

“Let him wait,” Esmeralda snapped.

“You need to make some kind of announcement tonight,” Lady Jersey advised. “To avoid scandal.”

“I couldn’t give a fig for scandal,” Elizabeth cried. “I’m not marrying him.”

“I understand, dear gel, that you do not have a care for what society thinks, but this is not just about you. Is it?”