Page 87 of The Highlander Is All That

“That willna help.”

“It’s helping at the moment.”

His friend took a seat, sat back, and sighed heavily. Then he took the carafe from Hamish and poured himself a glass. When he took a sip, he grimaced and spat it back. “This is ratafia.”

“It’s all that was left.”

Ranald sighed and stood, headed for the bellpull, and tugged. “I canna have you drinking ratafia.”

“I just doona understand. And she willna talk to me.”

“She’s too overset. She doesna want to talk to anyone.”

“How could she have said yes? To him? He’s a fooking worm.”

“Aye. He is.”

“How could she have said yes?”

“What do you think? That she decided in the course of a dance that she dinna want you after all? That she wanted a smelly, titled lord with ten thousand a year?”

He had thought exactly that. At least for a moment. Or six.

“Why else would she say yes?”

“It should be obvious.”

“Nothing is obvious.”

“She did it to save her sisters from the scandal.”

Well. That shut him up. That was the Elizabeth he knew and loved. “That is stupid,” he muttered.

“Aye. But what her society demands.”

“She hates her society.”

“With good reason, it appears.”

“She wants to live in Scotland.”

“Perhaps Twiggenberry will take her?” A horrible joke, and Ranald knew it. He winced at Hamish’s glare. “Sorry.”

“Maybe I should just kidnap her.”

“It didn’t work for Tiverton.”

“I’m cleverer than Tiverton.”

“Nae doubt. But the issue with her sisters and their reputation still remains. No’ to mention the reputation of the duke.”

Hamish grimaced. Bluidy hell. There was that. He owed Lachlan better. “Maybe Twiggenberry could die before the wedding.”

Ranald cleared his throat. “I was thinking more along the lines of delaying the wedding as long as possible. You know. In the hopes that some opportunity presents itself?”

“That works too.”

“Do you have any ideas?”