Page 87 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

The duchess saw them and came through the crowd to greet them. “What do you think?” she asked, beaming with pride.

“It’s fabulous,” Isobel said.

“Och. It was so much fun for me.” She hooked one arm in each of the girls’ and pulled them into the fray. “We’ve invited some of the neighbors, too. I hope you doona mind.”

“Ach, nae. The more the merrier,” Catriona said.

Isobel, of course, was searching the crowd for one face.

A pity he was not here.

“The girls are over there,” the duchess said, waving Isobel and Catriona—in the opposite direction of Celia Swofford—to where Sorcha, Ellie, and Elizabeth stood. It was yet another subtle hint, one Isobel was more than happy to take. She joined the other girls, making a fuss over each of their outfits.

Most of the ladies here had opted for a kilted skirt, or a tartan sash or shawl. The men, of course, wore kilts. It was easy to see who was comfortable in such dress, and who was not. Indeed, Englishmen rarely had cause to bare their legs in public.

Isobel tried not to be amused, but it was a challenge.

“I canna help noticing Celia is here,” Catriona said, once the girls had helped themselves to punch. Isobel nearly spewed hers out. Oh, she’d been wondering, but had decided it not politic to comment in the event the duchess had invited her.

Perhaps she was losing her rebellious edge? Thank heaven Catriona wasn’t, because Isobel was burning with curiosity.

Sorcha did not disappoint.

She snorted heartily. “Aye,” she said in the same tone she had used before.

Ellie shook her head. “Scandalous, that.”

Scandalous? How . . . delicious. “What?”

“Truly shocking,” Elizabeth Pennington, the youngest, tsked. “Even I know better. And I am barely out of leading strings.”

“What?” Isobel squawked.

Sorcha hugged her friend. “You’re not so young. And yes, you do have better manners.”

“What!”

Finally the three turned to her with equal expressions of revulsion on their pretty faces. “They came uninvited,” Sorcha confided.

Isobel blinked. “Surely, they dinna.”

“Oh, they did,” Ellie said.

“Naturally, they pretended the invitation to William had been extended to them all, but it had not.” Sorcha sighed. “Edward is overset.”

Isobel frowned. “Which Edward?”

“The Third.”

Ah. Nick. That was a relief.

Sorcha sniffed. “She’s been hunting him, you see.”

Something bitter skirled in Isobel’s belly. “Hunting him?”

“Aye. When he was in Newcastle, she even tried to slip into his bedroom.”

Ellie shook her head. “How vulgar.”