Page 110 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

Was she ready?

To stand before the ton and be welcomed as the viscount’s affianced?

Not in the least.

But she smiled, because he expected it—everyone expected it—and she hooked her arm in his and together they made their way to the dais to be presented to London’s society as man - and - wife - to - be.

And the Swoffords were nowhere to be seen.

Chapter Twenty-One

Isobel had been absolutely correct in one thing.

The moment the two of them were officially betrothed, all of the rules changed.

Well, most of them.

At least as far as their families were concerned.

For the next two months, they enjoyed close to absolute freedom. Nick spent every day with her, showing her around London—with and without her family members, and occasionally even with the Hellions, who were keen to see the Menagerie at the Tower of London at least once a week. They visited Astley’s, Covent Garden, Drury Lane Theatre, and the Opera House. And of course, they bowled daily along the path at Hyde Park.

In the evenings they attended balls, soirees, musicales, and more.

Many of these activities were orchestrated by Nick’s mother, to underscore Isobel’s new station and remind society that she was to be a duchess one day.

He preferred to ignore the fact that if Isobel had her way, this would not be the case. He knew that at some point, he would need to tell his mother what she planned or when Isobel left, she would be heartbroken, but he dreaded doing so.

Especially because his parents were so delighted.

Sorcha was over the moon. All of his siblings adored Isobel, from ten-year-old Callum—who wished he’d seen her first—to Violet and Viola, the seven-year-old twins, who wanted to be just like her.

They would all be crushed when everything fell apart.

Though no one would be as crushed as Nick himself.

Which was why he diligently applied himself in the wooing of his bride.

The extra freedom the elders allowed them was extremely helpful. On the evenings when there were no events, the families would gather for private dinners or nights of cards, and no one caterwauled if they happened to sneak out into the garden, or into the library, or elsewhere.

In fact, it seemed it was almost expected.

And it was delightful.

Nick was certain he was making progress with her when, one evening, after they had surreptitiously made love in the billiards room—and they were relaxing on the divan afterward with her in his arms—she sighed. “I love this,” she said, peeping up at him.

He kissed her lids, each in turn. “As do I.”

“Do you think they suspect what we are doing?”

He had to laugh. “I imagine they’d prefer not to think about it.”

Her laugh was a melody. Then she sobered. “How lovely would it be to make love every night?” It was not a question.

His arms tightened around her. “We can make that happen, you know.”

Her expression turned curious. And then fell as she caught his meaning. “I know you’re teasing me,” she said.

But he wasn’t. He wasn’t teasing. “Isobel—”