Page 100 of The Highlander Is All That

She had just settled in for the afternoon, relieved to not have to carry a conversation, when a ruckus sounded in the foyer.

“Oh dear,” Esmeralda said . . . just as the door burst open and Twiggenberry, with Henley on his heels, barged into the room.

“I will not be turned away. I shall see Elizabeth and I shall see her now.”

He stopped short as he took in the company and had the good manners to pale. “I . . . ah . . . beg your pardon, Your Grace.” He bowed. “I’ve just come to see my betrothed.”

The duchess tipped up her chin, just ever so slightly, and looked down her nose at Twiggenberry, which, considering the fact she was in a seated position, was a feat.

She pulled it off beautifully.

“Lord Twiggenberry. We are having tea.”

Elizabeth shuddered. She probably should take notes. She’d never realized a voice so beautiful could be so . . . terrifying.

“I am sorry, Your Grace. I need to speak to Elizabeth for just a moment in private. May I?”

The duchess stared at him.

He shifted from one foot to the other.

“May I?”

“You may not.”

Elizabeth could have hugged her. It must be wonderful having so much power.

Twiggenberry gaped at her and then sputtered, “I must insist.”

The temperature in the room dropped noticeably. “Must you?”

Realizing he was not getting what he desired, he turned his attention. “Elizabeth, I heard about your sister.”

Victoria smiled, widely. “Mary and Anne have gone to Kent to visit an ailing relative.”

“Dear Aunt Hortense,” the duchess added.

“Dear thing,” the countess said mournfully.

“Dear sweet thing,” Victoria added.

Twiggenberry snorted rudely. “Whatever. I’ve heard. And I want you to know that I don’t give a fig about that. I have the special license. We shall be married tomorrow.”

Elizabeth gaped at him. Her stomach lurched. “I cannot possibly marry you tomorrow.”

His eyes narrowed. “You can and will. I’ve had enough of your games, girl. By tomorrow evening, you will be my wife and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

Oh horrors.

To her surprise, Aunt Esmeralda stood. “There is, actually. As her guardian, in lieu of the duke, I can withdraw my permission.” When his face went purple, she said, in a conciliatory tone, “You cannot rush such a thing as a wedding.”

“Especially a society wedding,” the duchess murmured with a smile.

Twiggenberry’s expression went hard. He stared at them for a long moment and then he cleared his throat and rocked back on his feet. “We shall see.”

“We shall,” Esmeralda agreed, which did not appear to please Twiggenberry in the least. A vein on his forehead began to throb.

“I shall consult with the prince directly.” His gaze sharpened on Elizabeth. “I do have his ear, you know. And if he orders an immediate wedding, it shall be done.”