Page 18 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
“Naivety?”
“I thought perhaps so, but I don’t think it’s that.” Adrian brooded into his glass.
The question of her purpose here, and what had occurred to chase her all this way, nagged at him more than he liked toadmit. But he had invited her into his home long enough that he could not turn her away now.
Besides, he had the sneaking suspicion something was terribly wrong.
“Do you know anything about the MacAlister family? Her father is the Earl of Glenrannoch.”
Joseph frowned. “No. Why?”
“There’s something she isn’t telling me.”
“It’s not like you to be so fixated over a lady.”
“This isn’t just any lady. She is asking my mother to sponsor her into society. She is living in my house.” He glanced at his friend, anticipating his next words. “And no, I have no aspirations in her direction.”
“So you say.”
“I’m being cautious, that’s all.”
“I can look into her family?” Joseph offered.
Adrian chewed his lip. “No matter. I’ll find it out. No need to involve anyone else in this farce.” He watched as his cousin andthe mysterious Lady Isobel giggled together, speaking in low voices that were lost to the difference between them.
If only he knew what to do about her, or what she was running from.
Because he knew what it looked like to run, and she bore all the markings.
Chapter Six
“You shouldn’t pay them too much mind,” Eliza said to Isobel. “They have always been like that. Stuck up. I am sure there were some young ladies like that in Scotland.”
Isobel pretended not to notice the whispers of the other ladies. Eliza stuck firmly to her side, defiant and with a smile that lit up her entire face.
“A few,” Isobel said carefully.
Her mind flashed back to the girl she had found under Lord Moreton, trapped against the wall, fighting to be freed. She hadn’t been stuck up or conceited, and she had done nothing to encourage the young man to take advantage—although that would not have mattered even if shehadbehaved in such a way.
“Tell me a little more about Scotland,” Eliza said, turning to face her. “Do you miss it?”
“A little,” Isobel admitted. “It’s—beautiful. Where I live has so many mountains and lochs and, yes, crofters with their sheep, but it is more than that.” She moved her hands as she explained, trying to find the words. “It’s like here in England, the land is sleeping. In Scotland, it is awake. Everything is raw, immediate. England is so…” She pulled a face. “Refined.”
Eliza laughed. “Here, we pride ourselves on our refinement.”
“And if it’s what ye love, then it is perfect. But I like something a bit wilder.”
“Like you.”
She grinned. “Aye, I suppose, a little. Although I do not think it is a compliment for yer English lords.”
“They don’t know what they’re missing. And several of them aren’t looking to marry yet, you know, which makes it harder to know who to target.”
“Courting is like that here too, huh?”
“It’s all a game,” Eliza said, fanning herself, blonde curls fluttering. “And it’s all about who you know. For example, I am perceived as a catch because I have connections to the Duke of Somerset—even if my mother is not from particularly good birth. She married up.” She pointed at the ceiling with a wry smile. “It is why she’s so nervous about my reputation.”
“Because her hold on respectability is so tenuous?” Isobel guessed.
