“Three dances, Charlotte. That’s it. And please find me partners who will nae mind if I tread on their toes.”
Charlotte nodded. “Will do.” They completed another turn of the room, and Charlotte looked over Fiona’s shoulder. “Edward, I hope you’re ready to dance tomorrow night.”
“I’ll dance with you, as always,” he said, not missing a beat.
“Don’t be silly, you won’t have time to dance with me. You’ll be looking for your future fiancée.”
With those words, Fiona’s heart stopped.
Chapter 16
My goodness, Mr. McTavish, are you all right?”
Fiona had tripped over her feet, stumbling into Charlotte’s arms. “I’m fine. Just rusty.” Her face burned. With any luck, Charlotte and William would put it down to embarrassment over the fall, and not what it was—the shock at hearing that Edward was actively looking for a wife.
Shame coursed through her. Of course he was. She had always known this day would come; the timing was simply unexpected. They had spent a not inconsiderable amount of time together in the past week, and he’d never mentioned it.
They’d had moments—at least she thought they’d had moments—but clearly they hadn’t.
Stupid, featherbrained halfwit.
What had they truly shared since he’d freed her from jail? One quick kiss. Conversation. A book. True, she had bared her soul to him that afternoon in a way she never had, but he hadn’t asked her to do that. He hadn’t sought that vulnerability out. She’d offered it to him, idiotically.
She righted herself, schooled the hurt and humiliation from her face, and stepped back into her dance with Charlotte. Still, she couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him.
He had thegood sense not to be looking in her direction. The jackass clearly had some survival instincts.
“That’s not something we need to discuss right now,” Edward said, not taking his gaze from the keys in front of him. The notes had become sharp and distracted.
Charlotte stopped mid-turn and gave Fiona an apologetic look. Fiona did not care. She made directly for the decanter of spirits on the side table.
“If not now, then when?” Charlotte asked her brother, arms akimbo. “You’re out all day and we must have time to strategize before we venture out into the whirl.”
He stopped playing. “Mr. McTavish doesn’t need to be here for this conversation.”
Fiona nodded her assent as she poured a generous glass of brandy and wished that it were a good Scottish whisky. The last place she wanted to be was here, for this conversation. But she had no cause to leave his siblings abruptly. Besides, this was where the spirits were.
“Finley doesn’t mind, do you, Finley?” William said, coming over and nudging her in the ribs, as though she were a willing sidekick in this farce. “You can laugh with the rest of us at Edward’s misfortune.”
“It’s hardly a misfortune that he has to marry,” Charlotte said. “It will only be misfortune if he has to marry one of the women that Mother has planned. I’m sure between the lot of us we can find someone more suitable.”
So he’d not yet picked a duchess. Relief flashed through her. Self-loathing swiped back. She did notwantto want him. He’d lied to her; he’d abandoned her just as her father had; and he’d made it clear she was not the kind of woman he’d marry. This yearning inside her was an embarrassment.
She knocked back her drink in one gulp, eyes watering as the brandy burned the back of her throat. Good. She would take the physical discomfort over this emotional turmoil any day. “What are ye looking for in a wife?” she ground out, when it became clear the younger Stirling siblings were waiting for her to join the conversation.
Edward glared at her, eyes narrowed in frustration.
“She needs to be attractive,” William said. “Can’t have some hideous chit joining the family.”
Fiona stepped back from William. “Is thatactuallyyer criteria?”
He sniffed and raised his brandy glass. “Not the only criteria. She should come from good breeding stock. Think of the children.”
If anyone else in the room thought that a magnificently horrendous comment, they didn’t show it. In fact, Charlotte was excited as she chimed in. “Oh. She needs to be able to host parties and balls, et cetera. Edward needs a wife who will complement his political dealings. If she can’t plan a menu then she’ll be a liability.”
“That’s enough,” Edward barked. “I don’t need any help finding a bride.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “That’s not what our conversation was yesterday.”
