Page 29 of The Highlander Is All That

On the one hand, she could totally understand why. With his handsome features, dancing eyes, and broad shoulders, there could not be a woman alive who would not want to be in his arms. But on the other hand, she was absolutely furious.

And not furious with Lady Jersey, where the blame could be securely laid, but with Hamish.

He must have encouraged her somehow.

Then again, a mere glimpse at his knees was encouragement enough.

His legs were truly beautiful to behold. She had to believe that Twiggenberry, in his altogether, wouldn’t even come close. In fact, the thought made her snicker. Twiggenberry was rod thin and probably had chicken legs.

“What is so funny?” Anne asked.

“Nothing, really.”

“You were laughing,” Victoria pointed out.

“I’m sorry. I was just imagining Hamish trying to fight off Lady Jersey.”

“Yes, well, it was rather amusing,” Aunt Esmeralda murmured. “A moment later and God alone knows what we would have seen.”

“Again, I have a good idea,” Anne responded in a brittle tone.

Victoria and Mary shared a grin and then crowed in tandem, “Young ears!”

Esmeralda shot them both a daunting glance, but they were not daunted in the slightest. They rarely were.

By the time the coach reached Sinclair House, their escorts were already ensconced in the parlor with a whisky apiece. As their party breezed into the room, Bower was laughing.

“It’s no’ funny,” Hamish bellowed.

“It is, rather,” Aunt Esmeralda quipped.

Both men whirled around. Hamish caught sight of them and his face went red. “Good God. Did you tell everyone?”

“Not everyone.” Her smirk was slightly wicked.

“We all know, of course,” Victoria said, linking her fingers behind her back and strolling toward him. “Was she terribly rapacious?”

Hamish stared down at her with horror and mortification warring on his features. “How do you even know a word like that?”

“I’m quite studious.”

“I’m sure you are,” Bower said, still chuckling.

“Well, no one can say that our debut at Almack’s was dull,” Aunt Esmeralda said with a hint of satisfaction. Or more than a hint. “I cannot wait for tomorrow.”

“God.” Hamish buried his head in his hands.

“Daltry’s masquerade.”

“Perhaps you should wear a domino,” Anne suggested, nibbling on her lip. “So you can hide from Lady Jersey.”

Hamish went pale. “You don’t suppose she will be there?”

“Highly unlikely,” Aunt Esmeralda said. “Daltry is not one of the revered few.”

“But she might come . . . if her beau is there.” It was wicked of Anne to tease.

Bower laughed. “She might at that.”