Page 28 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

What a shame she would never see him again.

Ever . . .

“Darling.” Her mother put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t cry.”

Isobel blinked. “I’m not crying.”

To prove her lie, Mama dabbed at her cheeks with a serviette.

“Oh, my,” Lady Willouby said in a warble. “I had no idea you’d come to love it here so much. I am deeply moved.” Indeed, tears appeared in her eyes as well, and she waved her lace handkerchief before her face. After a moment, she turned to Mama and said, “Maybe she should stay here with me, while you all go to London. We are so very fond of each other, after all.”

Oh! What an excellent idea.

Isobel turned to Mama with hope in her—

And no. No. No.

Isobel knew that expression.

The answer was and always would be, no.

“My dearest Abigail. I do appreciate that offer, and how sweet of you to make it. But Isobel is the reason we’re going to London, my dear. She must have a Season, you know.”

Lady Willouby—who was, apparently, Abigail—deflated. “Oh, yes. Of course. I understand. A girl does need her Season.”

“But I doona want a Season.”

“Of course you do,” Aunt Esmeralda crowed. “Don’t be a fool, gel. It’s parties and punting and handsome men all around—”

“She prefers archery,” Lady Willouby, her new best friend, averred.

Esmeralda glowered. “We can always find something for you to shoot at,” she said.

“This conversation is pointless,” Mama said. “Isobel, you are coming with us. It has always been the plan to introduce you and Catriona to society, and that is that.”

Isobel knew well enough to let it go. When her mother took that tone, a thing was written in stone. So a turn of the topic was advised.

“And where is Cat?” Catriona Bower, Isobel’s best friend and daughter of the Baron of Bowermadden, had come along on this journey to have her Season as well.

“She’s with the children,” Aunt Lana said.

Coincidentally, at that moment a crash resounded from the back of the house. Mama sent the look at Papa, who nodded and headed off to see what unmitigated disaster had transpired.

“So when will you leave?” Lady Willouby asked. “Do tell me you’ll stay a day or two?”

Though Isobel’s heart lifted, she knew her mother. She knew that now everyone had been collected, she would be impatient to get to London and settle in.

And of course, she said, “As soon as we can get Isobel packed.”

How dreary.

Isobel had one trunk and she’d only worn her habit and a couple of morning dresses. Almost everything was still in place.

“Don’t be silly. You can’t leave so soon.”

“We must, Lady Willouby,” Uncle Lachlan, who had been silent until now, stepped forward to insist. “I have meetings in London, and with the rain, we will no doubt be delayed. It’s best that we push through.”

No one, not even dear Lady Willouby, could deny the duke. She nodded and dabbed at her eyes again, which made Isobel really sad. She was a sweet lady and she had enjoyed this visit.