Page 117 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
“We missed you too,” her mother said.
Her father looked across at Adrian. “And this is the duke she married,” he said in his booming voice, the soft burr of his accent stronger even than Isobel’s. “I hope ye will endeavor to deserve her.”
Isobel slapped his arm. “Papa!”
Adrian dipped his head. “I will always do my best.”
Her parents both exchanged a smile. “That is what marriage is, aye,” Lady Glenrannoch said, approaching to enfold Adrian in a warm, scented embrace. “Welcome to the family, Yer Grace. We are delighted to have ye.”
“Please, call me Adrian.”
“Then ye must call me Catherine,” she said. “How is ye dear maither? I miss her every day.”
“She is well! Wishing she could be here, but she is too busy in London.”
“London, you say?” A strident voice sounded from the doorway to the rambling old house Isobel had called home all her years.
A tall, thin lady emerged, greying hair in neat curls and her eyes alight with fierce interest.
“Catriona, did you hear that?” the thin lady said.
“Cousin Cat?” Isobel gaped, her eyes wide. “Aunt Mary?”
Catherine pinched her nose, and her husband looked as though he was praying for patience. Isobel reached for Adrian’s hand.
“I’m so sorry,” she muttered.
“When she heard you were returning from London with an English duke in tow, she insisted on being invited,” Catherine murmured. “I apologize.”
Adrian glanced between the two. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Andyou, I suppose, must be the Duke of Somerset?” The lady Isobel had termed ‘Aunt Mary’ came to a stop before Adrian, her eyes narrowed and her entire demeanor stiff, as though she expected Adrian to bow before her.
Once, perhaps, she might have been beautiful—and her daughter trailing behind her certainly was—but she had anexpression on her face, as though she had smelled something foul, that detracted from her appearance.
“I am, my lady,” Adrian said, bowing. As she was Isobel’s family, he would be polite, though he longed to take her down a notch or two.
“I am Lady Craigleith,” she said haughtily. “Tell me, what are your connections in London?”
Lord Glenrannoch coughed. “Perhaps if we are to have this conversation, we should do so inside?”
Isobel squeezed his arm. “She has been looking for an excuse to take Cat down to London,” she muttered. “I suspect you and I will be her excuse.”
“I cannot promise anything but to house your parents.”
Isobel snorted. “Good luck.”
Adrian rather thought, as he entered Isobel’s family home, he would need it.
Isobel found herself looking at Adrian again and again over the course of dinner. She had never seen him so warm and kind in the company of strangers. Then again, she had spoken about herfamily often enough that she supposed they hardly seemed like strangers.
Beside her, Cat gained enough courage to speak about her interests—reading and the arts—and Isobel found quiet amusement in watching Adrian deftly avoid Aunt Mary’s attempts at reeling him into to promising they could spend a London Season with him. For good reason, too, although he didn’t know why just yet.
He caught her glancing at him and leaned over. “What is it? Do you want me to accept?”
“Heavens no.”
“Then why are you staring?”
