Page 81 of In the Highlander's Bed

No, that wasn’t true.She wanted Gordon back. She could not imagine herself with any other man.

“I don’t feel right,” she murmured, “passing Gordon’s child off on another.”

Miranda gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. Even Phillip appeared understanding. “It’s done more often than you can imagine,” he said.

“Then what difference does it make whom I marry?” Constance answered, trying to be brave. “Maybe as a duchess, London won’t frighten me so much.”

“Frighten you?” Charlotte asked, as if unable to comprehend such an idea.

“Yes, frighten,” Constance said. “It’s full of rules and manners and intrigue. There’s more gossip here than in the valley. But also, the city itself is confusing. It’s too loud, too ugly, too smelly.”

“It’s not like home, is it?” Miranda agreed.

“No,” Constance agreed softly.

Tears welled in Charlotte’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s my fault we are all here. I pushed us into it. I truly thought it best.”

Alarmed, Constance moved to put her arms around her oldest sister. “You never cry,” she said. “You are always the strong one for us. Please, I’m not sorry we came. I was meant to meet Gordon. How could I have done that in the valley?”

“Right now, I’m not too pleased with him,” Charlotte confessed. “He’s left you with a terrible dilemma.”

“No,” Constance quickly answered. “I wantthis baby. And I want him to grow up with every advantage. He’ll need it. Perhaps someday he will take up the Cause and succeed for his father.”

And she would have a name for her child. She’d not let Gordon’s son be called a bastard.

“I’m not averse to meeting Holburn,” she said quietly.

Charlotte let out an audible sigh of relief. Miranda covered Constance’s hand with her own. “Are you certain?” she asked. “Please, we’ll all stand beside you, whatever you wish.”

“You are my little sister,” Charlotte said. “We’ve always been there for each other.” She took Constance’s other hand. For a moment, with Miranda on her right and Charlotte on her left, Constance could place herself back on that fateful night when the three of them had hidden from the Shawnee. She’d been no more than three, with a sister on each side, holding her hand, asking that she trust them.

She must trust them now.

“When do I meet His Grace?” she asked Phillip.

“Tomorrow night,” he answered. “His mother suggested she arrange for him to be present at Lady Viner’s ball. We’ll have the introductions then. After that, a very shortcourtship and a speedy marriage arranged by special license.”

“Are we to tell everyone it was love at first sight?” Constance asked.

“They won’t believe you love Holburn,” Francesca predicted.

Phillip sat back in his chair. “Come now,” he scoffed. “Be fair. Holburn is a handsome man. He’s set many hearts on fire.”

“Only the hearts of women who admire rakes,” Francesca retorted.

“Which is actually a good portion of the female population,” Phillip pointed out.

“I don’t care,” Constance said, coming to a decision. “If this is what must be done, so be it.” With those words, she excused herself and, rising from the table, left the room.

She surprised herself. She didn’t feel happy or sad. Her practical nature had taken over and she refused to wallow in self-pity. That was how one survived the unthinkable.

She spent the rest of the day sitting out in the Garden Room, knitting to keep both her hands and her mind busy.

Alex came to fetch her for dinner.

“You’ve heard about the offer?” she asked him.

He nodded.