Page 41 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

Rather, he steeled his spine and strolled into view.

“Darling!”

To his credit, he didn’t flinch when his mother called out. He made his way across the thick Aubusson carpet into the room, where his mother and sister sat taking tea. He bent to kiss them both in turn.

“Mother.”

“I’m so thrilled to see you,” she cooed. “It’s been far too long. I doona understand why young men feel they need to live so far from their mothers.” This, with a pout.

“I understand,” Sorcha said. She’d always been his greatest defender. “So he can drink and carouse to all hours without upsetting the household.”

Mother scowled. “You doona carouse, do you, Edward?”

“Not hardly at all.”

“Well, I’m thrilled you’re here. Do sit and have tea.”

He did sit, but motioned to Baxter for a whisky. Baxter knew his preferences, even though Nick had moved out years ago.

“Did you see Malcolm on the way in?” Sorcha asked with a smirk on her face.

“I did. You must have frightened him.”

His sister’s laugh rang through the room. “No doubt. Mother is on a mission.”

“So I heard.” He took a sip of his drink and sighed. Perfect. And much better than the swill at White’s. His father kept only the best in the house. “And what is your mission today, my dear mother?”

“We’re going to a ball this evening,” she said softly, as though this might come as something of a shock to him.

“Hmm?”

He took another sip, but shouldn’t have. It all came back out in a forty-year-old spray when Sorcha added, “At the Swoffords’.”

And yes, the urge to run hit him then, along with a deep and abiding regret that he hadn’t listened to Malcolm.

“You’re friends with William Swofford, are you not?” Mother said, helping herself to a crisp.

Not anymore, he thought. Not after that debacle with his sister.

“Mother, I cannot go to the Swoffords’.”

“But I need you to.”

“Celia is on the hunt. Do you really want her for a daughter-in-law?”

Sorcha shuddered.

“I need escorts. I have some friends in town—”

The hair on his nape rose. “With daughters?”

“Naturally. And I want them to feel at home.”

“Can’t they find their own escorts?”

“They’ve only just arrived. And I simply cannot have Eugenia Swofford’s crowd mocking them.”

Nick cleared his throat. Surely his mother was being melodramatic. She did have that inclination. “Why would Lady Swofford’s friends mock them?”