Page 54 of The Highlander Is All That

“And I am happy for you,” she said. And she was.

But the jealousy was still there.

It was just a different kind.

Her beloved sister had found that elusive happiness Anne had wanted her whole life but had never allowed herself to know.

And whose fault is that? A voice mocked from the back of her mind.

What a pity she didn’t have the strength to answer.

* * *

“They’ve found her!” Aunt Esmeralda burst into the parlor where the girls were diligently ignoring their needlepoint one day about two weeks after Hamish had left. She had a letter in her hand which she waved manically.

Elizabeth leaped up from her chair and rushed to her aunt’s side. “They’ve found her, thank God.”

Victoria cheered and Mary applauded.

“May I see that?” Elizabeth asked. It had been a boring two weeks, not attending parties or taking calls on the excuse that there was a fever in the house, but she hadn’t minded being bored because it kept Twiggenberry at bay. He had called each and every day and been turned away.

Esmeralda handed the parchment over and Elizabeth scanned it.

“What does it say? Read it aloud,” Victoria demanded.

“There’s not much. Bower and Mackay intercepted the coach near the border. Catherine is fine and . . .”

“And what?” Mary asked, her eyes alight.

Elizabeth sighed. “They are in Gretna Green.”

“Eloping?” Mary sighed. “How romantic.”

“It is not romantic,” Esmeralda advised.

Victoria humphed. “It is. And much better than being forced to marry Tiverton.”

How true. What a relief that Catherine was safe and in Duncan’s arms, though Elizabeth had really been looking forward to the wedding at St. Paul’s, which would now need to be canceled. She scanned the letter again, searching for news about Hamish, but there was none. She knew there was none, but she had to look once more. Where was he? Was he all right? Was there a reason the baron had not mentioned him in the letter? Was he even coming back?

“When are they coming back?” Anne echoed her thoughts.

Elizabeth glanced at her, having been captured by an unfamiliar tone in her voice. Something almost . . . wistful.

Esmeralda answered for her. “It does not say, but it hardly signifies. The fact is that we can, once more, go out.”

“What a relief,” Victoria gusted. “I’ve been wasting away.

Their aunt ignored her melodramatic whimper. “And just in time for the musicale at the Smythe-Winstons’.”

An agonized groan rounded the room.

“Could Bower not have delayed that missive by one day?” Anne muttered.

“I feel a megrim coming on,” Elizabeth said, putting her hand to her forehead.

Mary followed suit. “Me too.”

As did Anne. “It’s quite excruciating.”