Page 14 of A Highland Lass for the English Duke

All this, and they were not even arguing.

Yet.

Will felt his emotions build up steam. He was late. He had important business.

"Mother!" he protested.

He was thirty years old, and somehow his mother still managed to reduce him to a child of three.

Biting down his dismay, Will tried his hardest not to pout. "Do I have to remind you of the situation? The king is reliant on us for his forces. It is true, London has many enemies. We must be ready!"

His mother looked at him sharply.

"It is not just the king who is reliant on you, William; it is also your family. Your kin need you, too."

She flashed her bright blue eyes pertinently and flicked her silver hair from her eyes. Somehow there was always a stray curl darting out from her scraped back headdress, no matter how much she plucked.

The dowager's gaze shoehorned Will into the corner. Despite his annoyance, he found it hard to look away. It only made him feel more annoyed. He hated it when she did this to him.

Frustration bristling at him, Will asserted himself.

"I know, Mother. I am doing all this for the family," his eyes flashed vehemently, the same eyes which viewed him from across the room. Having delivered his point, he stomped angrily back toward the door, which hung tantalizingly open.

"Well, that's just the point," said his mother, her lean heart-shaped face tilting pointedly toward him. "You don't have any family of your own!"

Will let out a sigh. "Not this again, Mother," he muttered. He did not have time for this. His men were waiting; the soldiers were awaiting inspection, and he had a ton of duty to attend to. But the look on his mother's face was adamant.

"Yes this, Will. If there's one thing life has shown me, it is that you can't be certain of anything in this world. You are of marriageable age. Most men your age are already settled, with several children. And I hardly need remind you that your father had already passed away by the time he was your age."

Will was about to retort that he was not about to die so soon when he stopped, uncertain. There had been a lot of battles lately. Anything could happen.

Seeing his disquiet, his mother moved forward. Her long skirts in a train, she rustled forward, picking up debris like a broom.

"What has that got to do with anything, pray tell?"

His eyes met his mother's briefly. Then he looked away. She glared at him with added menace.

"It matters," began his mother, softly and dignified. "Because, as you know, London is not safe. At any moment, something could happen, and the Rothinghams' good name might fall. And that is especially going to happen if there is no son and heir!"

Will bristled. "I don't have the time for this," he said, attempting to push past her. But he knew there was no way he could talk to her. There was no denying any of this.

"There will be no time at all if you leave it too late," said his mother, sharply turning to look at him. "There is no choice. You need to wed. The family needs it. You need it for the stability our name craves."

"Mother," Will began pushing past her, but the sweat building up in his head broke out everywhere. "I have duties, one of which is to provide an army for the king. And that is one I intend to take very seriously, unlike certain other family members. So, if you will let me⁠—"

His mother shook her head. "No. You have duties to your family. Listen. There is an upcoming ball and feast at Lady Eleanor's. All the eligible brides will be there, I think."

Indignation overtook Will. "No!" he insisted. Deep down, he was prickling with dread. The very thought of being dragged to some godforsaken dance horrified him.

"And as for duty, perhaps you could remind your other son of his filial obligations. I spend most of my time cleaning up after his indiscretions."

Will couldn't help it. He was fuming. It was just about the limit. Despite his best intention to push his temper back, it rose to the fore.

"Will, I…" began his mother, looking less than sure. She wore that hurt look that she did when she wanted to make a point. Instantly, Will felt guilty, as well as completely maddened. His mother took some time to compose herself before speaking.

"I just want you to find a wife and have some heirs before it's too late. Like your father would have expected."

His mother's eyes brimmed to the edge with tears. Will felt like someone had kicked him in the guts. Sometimes, it felt as if his mother blamed him for his father's death.