Page 34 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

No doubt she would. For all her years, Aunt Esmeralda made no secret of the fact that she enjoyed the male form. Clothed or not. In fact, upon such reflection, she was probably not a suitable chaperone in the least.

“Oh!” the duchess said, clapping her hands. “We should have a welcome dinner for you all, you know, to introduce you to everyone.”

Everyone? Lovely.

The duchess must have noticed her chagrin, for she chuckled and said, “All our friends, that is.”

“You will adore them,” Sorcha said.

“The Tullys, for certain. The Penningtons. The Grangers,” the duchess ticked off on her fingers.

“Uncle Ewan,” Sorcha reminded her.

“Oh, of course Uncle Ewan.” She grinned at Mama. “He’s a Scot as well. You will feel precisely at home.”

Mama cleared her throat. “And in this crowd,” she said coyly, “are there any . . . eligible gentlemen?”

Sorcha laughed. “Eligible, certainly. Though probably not willing.”

“Sorcha Wyeth!” the duchess scolded.

“It’s true.” She grinned at Isobel. “They’re all still sowing their wild oats.”

Kaitlin sighed. “I’m afraid that is true. Sad, really. Malcolm is getting long in the tooth and Sean not far behind him. They are the duke’s brothers,” she explained to Mama.

“How many brothers does the duke have?” Mama asked, surely out of politeness and not hunting for information about eligible gentlemen—though Isobel suspected the latter to be so. In fact, this entire conversation had become one such treasure hunt.

“He has five brothers, actually.”

“Edward is the eldest,” Sorcha said. “But he’s already married.”

Isobel blinked. “I thought the duke’s given name was Edward.” The words were out before she could stop them. Mortification rose in her with a scorching heat to her cheeks. Young ladies were not to mention men’s given names, especially not those as lofty as a duke’s.

But the duchess laughed off her gaffe. “That is a long story. In short, Edward, my Edward, discovered his cousins were actually his siblings. In fact, he has five brothers and a sister, Violet, who is married to Ewan. So one of his brothers is also an Edward.”

“We have a plethora of Edwards,” Sorcha said conspiratorially.

“That is so true.” The duchess tugged on her gloves. “My husband. My son. My brother-in-law . . .”

“Don’t forget Edward Tully and Edward Pennington,” Sorcha said with a laugh and, Isobel noticed, a blush.

“Yes. Them, too. We affectionately call them the Edwards.”

“You’ll meet them soon. We’ll have such fun.”

Her beautiful brown eyes glimmered with such mischief, Isobel couldn’t help but believe her. “I’m looking forward to it,” she said. And it was true.

“We have our own plethoras,” Mama said. Alexanders, Andrews, and Lachlans. To make matters worse, the boys could have been twins, or triplets, they so favored one another. It could be a tangle keeping them apart.

As Mama explained all this, the duchess and her daughter laughed.

Conversation shifted then to plans for the Season and Her Grace’s advice for them going forward. It was helpful and kind and despite herself, Isobel appreciated the insight. There were so many rules to remember.

Mostly, she enjoyed the easy company she found with these two. It was as though they’d always been at home together. The conversation was informal and the laughter frequent.

It was, in short, a delight.

But alas. The delightful tea was spoiled then when Henley scratched on the door and announced more visitors.