Page 41 of The Highlander Is All That

Foolish girl.

Maybe he was right. She was a fanciful child.

She sucked in a deep breath and murmured, “I’m fine. I’m going to the ball.”

Esmeralda loomed closer. “Are you sure, gel? There is much to do.”

“And shopping,” Mary put in.

Elizabeth forced a smile. “I feel better already.” She pushed herself into a sitting position. “See? I’m fine.”

She was.

Twiggenberry was nowhere to be seen.

She glanced around at her sisters, her aunt, her friend, and her . . . whatever and smiled. “I could use some privacy, though.”

“Oh yes. Of course.” They all nodded and filed out. Though she noticed Hamish glanced back more than once.

“Not you.” She grabbed her aunt’s hand, which precipitated the elegant arch of a brow.

Esmeralda set her palm on Elizabeth’s forehead to check her temperature. She didn’t speak until the door had closed. “Well?”

Ye Gods. How to say this. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“What?” Her aunt actually blanched.

“Don’t tell anyone he proposed. Please.”

“But this is fabulous news.”

“It is not.”

Her aunt’s gaze narrowed. “Never say there is someone else.”

There was, in a manner of speaking, but since he didn’t return her feelings, she shook her head. “He’s just . . .”

“What? An earl. A rich, rich earl? From an excellent family? A tremendous prospect? The catch of the season?”

“I don’t want him.” It was as simple as that.

One would think she’d just announced she was marrying a footman, based on Esmeralda’s expression. Her aunt said nothing, save some assorted sputtering. After a minute or two, she collected herself enough to say. “You don’t want him?”

“No.”

“How can you not want him?”

There was no response to that, so Elizabeth shrugged.

Her aunt sighed and sat back, staring at the ceiling. “I shall never understand the gels of your generation. In my day, we were happy with a proposal from an earl. We were delighted to join our families for the purpose of strengthening the dynasties. There was no I don’t want him nonsense. In fact, my father never even asked. He betrothed me to Van Cleve when I was in the nursery. I never had a choice. Never wanted one.”

“Were you happy with Van Cleve?”

“That is beside the point.”

“Is it? Would you have chosen differently if you’d had the chance?”

Esmeralda’s expression became decidedly persimmony. She stood and made her way to the table by the window, the one that held assorted decanters of brown liquids. She poured two glasses and returned, handing one to Elizabeth.