Page 83 of In the Highlander's Bed

“Wait until this evening. Once you meet Holburn, you may not be so appreciative.”

She laughed…but noticed that neither Francesca or Phillip did. Sobered, she sipped a cup of tea, her gaze falling on the newspaper, where her name seemed to jump out at her.

Francesca was right. Lady Viner had filled every room in her house with roses. The air reeked of them, even outside, where Constance stood with Charlotte, Francesca, and their husbands, waiting in the line of guests entering the house.A gentleman ahead of her began sneezing furiously. Apparently, he had a dislike of roses. He wanted to leave but his wife would hear nothing of it.

Constance felt ill at ease. She heard her name whispered often and knew that behind those fluttering fans women were gossiping.

Miranda couldn’t attend because of her delicate condition, and Constance wished she could use the same excuse.

She knew she looked her best. She was wearing a gauzy, pastel blue muslin with a bodice of silver and lace. Her hair had been styled up on her head with pearl pins holding her curls in place. She’d wanted to appear regal and aloof, the way a possible duchess should be.

Inside, Lord and Lady Viner acted overjoyed to greet them. Charlotte whispered in Constance’s ear, “We’ve made her ball. There will be a mention in every paper tomorrow.”

Constance nodded. She dared not speak. Her stomach was a tight knot of anxiety. What had seemed relatively simple to agree to yesterday was revealing horrifying consequences. She felt as if every eye in the room was on her.

The duke’s mother, the Dowager Duchess of Holburn, practically pounced on them the second they were done with the receiving line.She seemed unaware of all the speculation. Perhaps when one was a duchess one became accustomed to all the attention. Francesca seemed at peace with it.

The dowager was a petite woman, as wide as she was tall, who wore ostrich feathers in her hair as if to add to her height. It didn’t work.

Her fingers were covered with rings, and jewels were in her hair and pinned to her dress. She was a bright, lovely ornament who was very pleased with Constance. “So lovely, so lovely,” she kept saying. “Just perfect. I was so afraid you were peddling a giraffe or a gorilla,” she informed Phillip.

“A giraffe?” Constance repeated.

“Oh, you know, one of those women who is so unusually tall everyone has to crane their necks to look at them,” the duchess said. “And a gorilla is ugly. Ugly, ugly, ugly. Big shoulders. You are a bit tall but not uncomfortably so. Then again, Holburn is huge, so you might suit.”

Constance murmured a dubious “Thank you.” Her initial reaction to the duchess was that she was more rude than silly.

“Will we have the opportunity to meet your son?” Charlotte asked to fill the uncomfortable silence.

“He will be here this evening,” the duchessassured them, smiling brightly, and Constance sensed she didn’t have a clue where her son was. In fact, Constance was beginning to wonder if there was any substance at all behind the dowager’s bright blue eyes—and then she met Holburn’s uncles. They swooped down upon the duchess like hawks after fresh prey.

There were two of them, Lord Brant and Lord Maven, and they dressed like Puritans. Their black was a stark contrast to the duchess’s colorful style and to Constance’s demure gown as well.

“So,” Lord Brant said, drawing out the word in a sonorous tone after the introductions, “I understand we are to wish you happy.” He didn’t appear happy.

Constance smiled. “Thank you.”

“Yes, Holburn is so ecstatic,” his mother said. “Absolutely overjoyed. Wait until he sees you this evening and tells you himself.”

“I have seen him this evening,” Lord Brant said.

This was a surprise to the duchess. “You have?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lord Maven agreed. “He’s in the card room, his usual place. Did you know he’s placed a wager on the books at White’s that hewon’tbe marrying.Ever.”

Now Constance understood all the stares and whispers.

The duchess’s hair feathers shook with indignation. “Why is he doing this to me?”

Constance could also feel Phillip’s temper start to rise. The heat of his expression should have seared the eyebrows off Lord Maven. Even the usually temperate Justin was taking insult. The twins exchanged a look, another of their silent communications.

However, what made Constance angry was the obvious relish the uncles took in sabotaging the marriage arrangement. For the first time in weeks she felt a surge of her old spirit.

Deciding to take matters into her own hands before there was an explosion of tempers, she said, “Your Grace, perhaps we should go to the card room? If there is a wager on the books, I believe I must at least meet Holburn for it to be valid.”

The uncles all but sneered their opinions.

Constance didn’t care. Her pride was up. If Holburn was anything like his uncles, she was ready to face public scandal and have her baby alone.