Page 59 of A Highland Lass for the English Duke

"Your face says otherwise," replied his mother sagely. Now she sat down. Unbidden, the duchess pulled up a chair from beside him and inched closer.

"Tell me, Will. What is it?"

His mother's eyes delved into his own. Will felt himself tense up.

"It is...the situation in London. That is all," he said with a small smile.

"That is all?" asked the duchess, her voice faint with irony.

Irritated, Will tried to brush his mother aside.

"Yes. That's all. I just have to raise the funds for an army, just like all the other dukes are doing. 'Tis the only hardship."

The duchess looked at him like he was simple.

"'Tis hardly nothing, Will. We must take care. The situation in London is delicate."

Will struggled to maintain his composure.

"I know, Mother," he finally said. "And we will do all we can to help. If that means going to fight, then I am ready!"

His mother frowned as if she had something to say about this, but at the last minute, cut herself short. Instead, she turned away, dabbing her face with her handkerchief. Will felt wretched. This was hard for her too, he remembered. Their loyalty came at a price, but it couldn't be avoided.

However, the duchess was not fooled. She knew there was more to Will's demeanor than worrying about the house of York.

"And what of the other matter, Will? The one that remains to be settled. Every bit as important in its own way as the other. For we cannot help the king until we can make good our situation and that of Mary-Ann."

There it was. That other matter.

"I hope you have not changed your mind, Will," said the duchess reproachfully. She confronted him with her sky-blue eyes.

"I have not changed my mind," he assured her, casting his eyes up to the skies.

"Well, that is good, then. I hope you are near to making your choice."

Will pushed back on his seat and breathed the air streaming in from the open window. More than anything, he longed to be out there on horseback. Away from London and away from duties.

And by his side would be Lissie, riding to his manor house in the country, laughing and gay, a million miles away from the formalities of London. A small smile crept across Will's face. It always did when he thought of Lissie.

When he thought of them.

Something about this felt right. Instinctively, Will knew she understood him.

Seeing the look on her son's face, the duchess thought she knew why. With a rueful shake, she tutted.

"So then, the little Scottish hen?" asked his mother gently. Her eyes glanced away. Will could tell she was disappointed, but was trying to console him.

But Will tensed up suddenly. He knew his mother a whole load better than that. This was all fake. She just wanted him to open up to her. Then, she would deploy the act.

Not wanting his mother to take control of everything, Will acted, "No, not her," he said softly.

The duchess's blue eyes widened. "Well, then, who?" she asked, eyes avid. "We need to prepare for the engagement party!"

Paralysis froze Will's mind. He just could not think. A breeze danced in from the window, knocking over his papers and creating a distraction.

"I, um," he battled. Then, he was seized by something else. A memory.

"Lady Lettice," he said quickly, lowering his gaze to the floor. But without looking, Will knew that this was not the right answer.