Hit Me With Your Best Scot (Wild Wicked Highlanders #3) - Suzanne Enoch Page 0,122
to Niall MacTaggert, she was in for a grand adventure. She looked forward to every moment of it—even if they returned to London only to have to leave again. Because she would be with Niall. She would be a MacTaggert.
Chapter Eighteen
Francesca rose early. Her son—all her sons—should arrive in Gretna Green sometime today, and at any time now Niall would be married. She did see the irony of it; he’d done as she’d ordered all those years ago when he’d been a very independent seven-year-old and she’d wanted a way to keep her boys in her life; he had, or he would shortly, marry an Englishwoman. His choice and his methods, though, had effectively removed them both from England. From her.
Hannah arrived at her bedchamber, and while she always dressed carefully, this morning Francesca chose a silver-and-blue ensemble, something a bit too fancy for a day she meant to spend in Oswell House. She and Eloise had spent the past three days at home, in fact, not receiving visitors and declining the invitation she’d already accepted to a small soiree honoring a friend’s birthday.
“The pearls, or the onyx?” Hannah asked, the maid holding up the two necklaces.
“The pearls. The onyx is more formidable, but I couldn’t wear it before sunset without looking overdressed.”
When they’d finished, Francesca stood to eye herself in the dressing mirror. The last time she’d dressed this carefully had been the day Coll, Aden, and Niall had arrived in London. That had been a battle that for a short time she hadn’t been certain she would win. She still wasn’t certain she could call it a victory, though all three had now referred to her as their mother. From Aden and Niall, at least, she’d begun to sense a grudging respect and even a smattering of affection. That meant everything, and gave her enough hope to keep pressing the far more jaded and caustic Coll.
As Hannah left the room, Eloise slipped inside. “Do you think they’re married yet?”
“According to Aden, they should be at Gretna Green sometime today. So not yet, but soon.”
“I know it’s scandalous, but it’s so romantic.”
Francesca eyed her daughter. “You are not going to elope. If you wed before any of your brothers, I will have to abide by the agreement.”
“I want a grand church wedding,” Eloise said. “With Papa to walk me down the aisle.”
That wasn’t likely to happen, but Francesca didn’t say anything about it now. Several miracles had happened already, after all. “Mm-hm.”
“Mama, may Matthew at least call on me today?” she asked, lifting the folded letter she held in one hand. “He thinks I’m angry with him over something.”
“Perhaps later,” Francesca returned. “I believe I will have some callers shortly. If everything goes as I hope, then Matthew may join us for dinner.”
“Everyone else has seen the engagement announcement by now,” her daughter returned. “What does it matter if we’ve seen it or not? Or if we go out and chat about it?”
“Deniability. We haven’t been asked if we’ve seen it, and we haven’t been asked to comment about it. Therefore, we can claim we knew nothing about the silly thing. That will be important, Eloise. Don’t forget. We know nothing about it.”
“I still don’t see why that matters. We’re not mentioned in it. Amelia-Rose and Lord Hurst are. Whatever you’ve planned, we can’t stop Lord Hurst from speaking out, certainly.”
That was the one part that troubled her the most. Hurst was a marquis. He outranked her in Society, and he had a very wide streak of self-importance running through his skinny frame. In addition he was attractive, which made him well liked. But as far as she’d been able to determine he had been absent from London for the past few days, as well. She frowned. Her sons had said they hadn’t hurt him, but she wouldn’t put it past them to have locked him in a cellar somewhere.
“Just be patient for a while longer,” she said aloud, taking her daughter’s arm as they left the bedchamber. “I know there’s nothing worse than being housebound in the middle of the Season. I believe the cause is worth the trouble, however.”
Eloise hugged her arm. “It is, of course. I’m only worried. And since no one told me anything, I’m also going to have a few choice words for them when they return.” She lowered her head. “If they return.”
“Coll and Aden still have English wives to find,” Francesca reminded her. “Nor am I ready to let Niall go when