He bowed. “I shall leave you lovely ladies to your organizing then.”
MARY STOOD LOOKING at her brother’s departing back. “Have you noticed that my brother has been acting very strange of late?”
Flora agreed. Since becoming a widow he had never flirted with her—not even once. But he was flirting today.
“Connor told me he has decided to take a wife. The King’s visit most likely spurred his decision.” She ignored the dagger of pain that slice through her heart at the words.
“I didn’t know how to tell you. I suspect Sir Walter has also been advising my brother to marry. A duke must have an heir. A legitimate heir.” She stopped polishing the candlestick and smacked her forehead. “So that is why Connor is out of sorts.”
Flora nodded. “He’s always had Dougray to himself and he is worried a wife might banish him.” She took a deep breath. “Who do you think he will chose?”
Mary looked at her sharply. “Oh, Flora. I’m so sorry. I know how you feel about Dougray.”
“That was a girlish fantasy. He did not want me before, why would he want me this time. I could never be his wife now anyway. I am likely barren. Every man in Scotland knows that.” The look of pity Mary threw her way made her want to curl up in a ball and cry. Mary had two beautiful children, a boy and a girl, with her husband, Stuart Carmichael, the Earl of Rowland. She covered her pain saying, “We were once such good friends. Let’s put our heads together and find him a young lady that would make him happy. That can’t be too hard can it?”
Mary gave her a hug. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Let’s go and have a cup of tea and make a list. We can see how the ladies on our list interact with Dougray at the ball tonight.” They left the room arm and arm heading for the small private drawing room on the floor above. “Plus, Lord Glengarry will be at the ball too.”
“Oh, he is only recently widowed. Surely he is not looking for a wife so soon?”
“He has three children under six plus an elder boy. I’d say he needs all the help he can get.”
How did she tell practical Mary that a man who would wed simply to get himself a new mother for his children was not the man for her? Not this time. While the idea of raising those children as her own was appealing, would the love from his children replace the emptiness she felt inside if her husband did not love her?
Mary read her face. “He’s always had a fondness for you but you were promised to another.”
“We shall see. My father is dead so at least I won’t have any man forcing me into a marriage I do not want. I won’t be rushed or pushed this time.”
CHAPTER 3
GOD GIVE him strength to get through this week, let alone this night. The King wasn’t even on Scottish soil yet, but Sir Walter Scott took the opportunity to bring the Scottish lord’s together in this evening’s glittering ball. Over cards the stuffed up peacock had lectured the men for almost an hour, insisting on what they could wear and what they could say in front of the King.
Well, Dougray wasn’t a child. He was a duke and he would bloody well wear what he liked and say what he liked—within reason. Like he said, he wasn’t stupid. Scott’s lecture was almost enough to make him risk walking back into the ballroom to face the hell of having to dance.
He was still in the card room, but he and Angus were sitting at the back near the fire in two large armchairs. He’d invited his friend to sit with him over a few glasses of fine whisky. Luckily they had gotten past the issue with Flora’s marriage some years back. Mainly because Flora had seemed happy in her marriage.
Dougray should have been pleased at that fact, but it tortured him every day to know she was happy with another man.
Tonight he needed to discuss Flora and he was worried about his friend’s reaction.
“Scott,” Angus spat out. “That bloody pompous cretin. I’m not sure a visit from the King is worth this.” Angus banged his empty whisky glass on the arm of his chair and called a servant for more of the fiery liquid.
“Do behave, Angus. Talk like that is likely to see Scotland truly embarrassed and you sent to Coventry, if you are not careful.”
Angus snorted. “Rubbish. You’ve met the King before. What do you think of him?”
“Actually, the last time I saw him he was still the Prince Regent. Don’t let the overweight and jolly image fool you. The King is not a stupid man. Although he does love his food, wine, and women far too much.”
“But is it in Scotland’s interest to form this closer alliance?”
“I believe it is. Both of our estates are flourishing now that we are working with the English. I intend to welcome them until they do something that is not in Scotland’s interest.”
“To Scotland,” Angus said. The two men clinked their glasses together.
“Speaking of the King. Scott mentioned the King is most concerned at my marital status. To be fair its more the ‘no heir’ that is of issue. It would appear the King, or his lapdog Scott, does not wish to see my cousin inherit.”
He waited for Angus’s chortle but it did not come.
