Page 80 of In the Highlander's Bed

“See?” Charlotte said triumphantly. “This is agoodthing.”

“I mean no offense to you, Constance,” Miranda said, “or to you, Charlotte, but why would this duke want to marry my sister?”

“The money,” Charlotte said, as if it were obvious. She began pulling off her gloves, nodding to a footman for a cup of tea as she made ready to join them. “With the amount our husbands have settled on her, Constance is quite the catch. If we were to present her for a Season, the men would be lined up out the door.”

Of course, they weren’t going to give her aSeason, Constance thought. There wasn’t time to waste. Then again, she didn’t want one. She’dneverwanted one. Toying with the spoon on the tablecloth in front of her, she studied the play of sunlight from the window off the silver. It reminded her of that fateful morning when Gordon had held the Sword of the MacKenna high in the air.

“Who is the duke?” Francesca asked.

“Holburn,” Charlotte said. “Do you know—”

Her voice broke off as Francesca dropped the teacup she’d been lifting to her lips. Tea spilled all over the tablecloth—but Francesca ignored it. “Shemustn’tmarry Holburn.”

“Why not?” Charlotte asked, reaching over to blot up the tea with her napkin. A footman hurried to help, but Francesca dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “That’s all we need, Peter. Please, give us a moment alone.” She waited until the servant had withdrawn before leaning across the table so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice above a whisper. “Dominic Lynsted, the Duke of Holburn, is dissolute. He’s a drunkard, a gambler, a duelist—” Words appeared to fail her. She shook her head. “Nofamily wants their daughter to marry him, although I’d never heard he was looking for marriage. He’s not the sort.”

Charlotte’s brow furrowed in concern. “Phillip wouldn’t offer my sister to such a man.”

“Yes, I would,” her husband said from the doorway. He walked into the room, followed by Justin. “I didn’t have a chance to finish the complete story about the offer before my loving wife hurried to tell you all.”

Phillip sat at the table. Justin stood to his right. He didn’t appear pleased, but let his twin say his piece.

“Holburn’s mother came to me with the offer. Said she’d heard I’d made a discreet inquiry. Francesca is right. Holburn is the worst sort of being. He drinks to excess, is blazing through the family fortunes with his gambling, and is known for all the worst vices. His uncles fear he shall ruin the family, but any attempts to rein him in have failed. The man is nine and twenty and as wild as any callow youth.”

“And I should marry him because…” Constance wondered.

“Because his mother wants an heir and won’t raise a question,” Phillip answered. “Considering the number of duels Holburn has fought over other men’s wives, it appears sooner or later he will be shot. The man is notorious. He can’t keep his pants on. He’s had amazing luck to date but someday it will run out. If he dieswithout an heir, his mother will be given an allowance and, knowing Holburn’s uncles, a very strict one at best.”

“I’ve met Daisy Lynsted, the dowager duchess of Holburn,” Francesca said. “She’s a silly, indulgent woman with a streak of avarice. The gossips have speculated for some time now which one of them, Holburn or his mother, will ruin the family financially.”

Phillip turned to Constance before saying quietly, “Francesca’s description is an apt one. She won’t be the most pleasant of relatives. However, she claims she has convinced Holburn to marry.”

“He doesn’t sound like a man who could be easily led,” Constance said.

“True,” Phillip agreed.

“And what will Constance be saddled with?” Miranda asked. “The man sounds terrible.”

Phillip shrugged. “Holburn is likable in his way.”

“Not to a woman,” Francesca countered.

“On the contrary, many women adore him,” Phillip answered.

“Not decent ones” was Francesca’s terse reply.

“In his defense,” Phillip said, “he does show up in the House of Lords from time to time.Usually to avoid his mistresses or to sleep off whatever excesses he’s practiced the night before,” he conceded to Francesca, “but I’ve heard him speak on occasion. He has a good head.”

Constance wrinkled her nose. She looked to Justin. “What do you think of this offer?” She wished Alex was here, but he was down in the shipyards and wouldn’t be home until later.

The duke shifted his weight. “It’s difficult to say. I don’t know the man. The best you can hope for is to be a young widow.”

“But a titled one,” Phillip reminded her. “That title comes with great privilege.”

“The first being protection for your child,” Charlotte said.

Constance nodded. In the distance she could hear the servants moving about, making preparations for dinner and their own lives.

Her sisters had their own lives, too. They loved their husbands and were well loved in return. She longed for what they had—