Page 104 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

“Do we congratulate or commiserate?” Penny asked, pouring himself a whisky, though it was not yet noon.

Though, to be truthful, Nick had already imbibed. He’d needed a stiff drink to help him work through the emotions of the night and the early-morning hours.

On the one hand, he was thrilled to be finally free of Celia and delighted to be betrothed to Isobel. But her plan—to leave anyway at the end of the Season—had him at sixes and sevens.

He didn’t understand why she was so adamant about escaping any marriage—even one to him. He’d thought what they had was wonderful, perfect. That she didn’t feel the same was cutting.

“Judging from his expression,” Declan said, “commiserate.”

“I thought you were mad for her.” Tully poured himself a drink as well.

“Do go away.”

Declan barked a laugh. “Not a chance.” He pulled up a chair, and the others followed suit.

Nick frowned at them in turn. “Where’s William?”

Penny snickered. “Gone. His mother grabbed him by the scruff.”

“They’re all gone,” Declan added.

Thank God. It would have been awkward to face his friend after that debacle with his sister.

“So.” Tully gusted a breath. “When’s the wedding?” Nick glowered at him and he lurched back. “No need to be rude.”

Declan clapped him on the shoulder. “What is it, Nick? I thought you’d be pleased with the outcome.”

“I am. It’s just . . .”

“What?”

“She isn’t.” So hard to say. The words caught in his throat.

“She seemed pleased when I saw her at breakfast,” Tully said. “All smiles.”

“Because she doesn’t plan to go through with the wedding.”

All his friends stilled. Stared.

“What?”

“But you’re going to be a duke one day.”

“She doesn’t care.” That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? She didn’t care. Not the way he did.

“Nonsense,” Declan snorted. “I see the way she looks at you.”

“She insists she’s going to break it off after the Season and return to Scotland.”

“Hmm.” Declan rubbed his chin in thought.

Nick scowled at him. “What?”

“She does love Scotland. Maybe it’s the thought of living in London she dislikes so much.”

The prospect cheered him. Slightly. “I could live in Scotland.”

“Could you wear kilts every day?” Tully asked. “She likes men in kilts.”