Page 7 of Duke of Emeralds
Acid rose in Hester’s throat. This was love’s brutal arithmetic: a vibrant woman reduced to whispers for a ghost.
“My dear Hester, I do hope you are enjoying the season. I heard you are admired at every ball.”
“Indeed, I am.” Hester nodded. Guilt weighed heavy on Hester for lying to the woman who only wished her well. Her season was going horribly, but she could never bring herself to share this with her mother. She couldn’t bear to see the worry and disappointment in her eyes, not when she had already suffered so much.
I will find a way to make things right. I promise.
Hester recalled the Duke’s offer just then, and for a very brief moment, her mind dreamed of what it would mean to accept. No longer would she be mired by spinsterhood, and her mother’s dream of seeing her married would be fulfilled. Her future would be secured…
She shook her head. No, she could not permit herself those foolish musings.
There was no way she was going to settle for a marriage of convenience, even though she did not want love. Still, her prospects weren’t getting any better, and she was not getting any younger even though her mother was still dreaming of the best for her.
I will find my own path, Mama. I will find happiness in my way.
CHAPTER 5
Thomas took a slow pull of whisky, the smoky bite a welcome distraction. His eyes moved across the room in time to catch two gentlemen looking at him.
He ought to be accustomed to the odd stares he received, but he still felt like a stag paraded through a tea shop—too large, too rough, and entirely misplaced.
Every instinct screamed to meet their gawping with a Highland glare that would send them scattering, but Lushton demanded diplomacy. This sent his thoughts toward finding an English duchess.Lady Hester and that surprising flash of storm in her eyes. A refusal from her might itch, but if she proved immovable… well, thetonoverflowed with suitable, simpering alternatives.
He took a sip of his drink, the amber liquid burning a trail down his throat. He welcomed the distraction, the brief respite from his thoughts, but it was short-lived, for as soon as he set his tumbler down, her image was back in his mind as vivid as ever.
But even as the thought came, he knew it was a futile endeavor. He had never been one to shy away from a challenge, and Lady Hester was a rather good one.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely noticed the two gentlemen approaching his table. It was only when they were upon him that he looked up, his gaze sharpening as he recognized them.
Isaac Glacion, Duke of Craton, settled into the chair opposite Thomas with a grin. “Lushton, allow me to remedy parliamentary neglect.” He gestured to the sharp-featured man beside him. “This the reprobate is Colin Caldwell, Duke of Copperton. Colin, meet Thomas Green, Duke of Lushton, though I still think of him as the finest factor in Scotland.”
Copperton offered him a smile and sat. “A pleasure finally made formal, Lushton. Parliament’s hallways are wretched for conversation.”
Thomas pushed the decanter toward them. “Join me. The whisky’s passable if ye can abide smoke without heather.”
“Don’t let his modesty fool you, Copperton,” Craton interjected as he accepted a glass. “This man turned three hundred acres of my worst moorland into prime grazing. Found water where my English stewards swore none existed.” He raised his tumbler in salute. “When he inherited Lushton last year, I lost a brilliant factor but gained a fine business partner. Our distillery venture near Inverness? Thriving under his eye.”
Copperton’s eyebrow arched. “From factor to duke? That’s a leap worthy of a novel.”
Thomas’ smile held a wry edge. “Fate’s a fickle wench as we say, but Craton’s right; the land teaches ye what ledgers daenae.” He poured Copperton’s measure generously. “Gentlemen, to partnerships old and new.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each man lost in his own thoughts. But it was not to last, for Craton was not one to beat around the bush.
“So, when do we hear your wedding bells to Lady Hester Jensen?” he suddenly asked, his gaze sharp and assessing.
Thomas’s tumbler paused halfway to his lips, his eyes widening. He stared back at his friend, his mind racing.
Could it be that they had had a witness in the garden last night? The thought stilled him, and he felt a sudden urge to glance over his shoulder, as if expecting to see a pair of prying eyes.
He took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm and composed. He was a duke, after all, and he would not be caught off guard by a bit of gossip.
“I see the English shrubberies are just as much of gossips as the people,” Thomas drawled. And the gentlemen laughed.
“You will be surprised at how quickly news spreads around here,” Copperton said.
“Oh, I think it’s positively alarming,” Thomas agreed. He took another sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving his companions.
“As a matter of fact, our wives are good friends of Lady Hester’s. She shared the news, and our ladies told us,” Craton explained.
