A Scot to the Heart (Desperately Seeking Duke #2) - Caroline Linden Page 0,26

from her pocket. “Look what we found.” Agnes and Ilsa put their heads together and opened it.

The Widower and Bachelor’s Directory, read the front page. An exact listing of Duchesses, Peeresses, Dowagers, Widows, and Spinsters in Great Britain, with their places of Abode and reputed Fortunes.

“Where on earth did you get this?” demanded Agnes.

“From Drew’s coat pocket the other day.” Bella grinned.

“What?”

“Don’t you see? He intends to find a bride, and she would be our sponsor in London.” Winnie’s eyes grew dreamy at the thought. “We shall see Vauxhall, and the Theatre Royal, and Bond Street, and ever so many balls and parties . . .”

Agnes scoffed. “As if an English lady would be eager to sponsor three wild Scottish girls in London.”

“Perhaps she won’t be English,” said Ilsa quietly. She had paged through the book, just to see, and found her own name listed. Madam Ramsay of Edinburgh, with twenty-four thousand pounds and two thousand in stocks. There were several other names she recognized.

Agnes read over her shoulder and bit her lip. She began scolding her sisters about stealing from their brother’s pocket while Ilsa riffled the pages again. Who wrote this? A Younger Son, was the only author given.

She handed it back to Bella. “Invaluable intelligence,” she said lightly. “I commend your pocket-picking talent. How shall you use it?”

Winnie ignored Agnes’s disapproving frown. “Most of the ladies listed are English, aye? But not all. I propose we undertake to put as many Scottish ladies in front of him as possible before he goes back to Carlyle.”

“As you said, Agnes, Drew’s choice of wife will affect us as well, so why shouldn’t we try to help him to a lady we like, too?” chimed in Bella. “Who will like us in return.”

“If he’s looking up ladies in this book, why shouldn’t we?” Winnie gave them a dimpled smile. “Drew has no experience of Edinburgh society, let alone London. He would be hopelessly lost if he tried to decide by himself. He probably thinks one chooses a wife the way one chooses a horse. Really I think he must need our advice desperately.”

“And did he ask for your help, Winifred?”

Bella hooted. “He’s too stubborn to do that, but he certainly ought to.”

“Why should he depend upon some silly book to help him, when he has three devoted sisters who know him?” Winnie smiled coyly.

“Some silly book,” repeated Agnes wryly, “which is also central to your own plot.”

“You know he’d be happier with a Scotswoman,” put in Bella. “Just as we would.”

“Not to mention Mama. Really, it is our duty to our entire family to do this, Agnes . . .”

Ilsa strolled after Robert, who had wandered off. It was nothing to her. Let him marry a Scotswoman or an Englishwoman or an American or anyone else. She told herself the pit in her stomach was due to the prospect of her dear friends leaving Edinburgh forever. Not that she didn’t long to leave Edinburgh herself at times, but they would be going together, while she had no one with whom to explore the world. She laid her hand on Robert’s back and he nuzzled her affectionately. At least she had him, even if he could be won away from her side by a handful of carrots.

The others caught up to her, and they took their walk. Bella and Winnie kept up a patter about which ladies they should introduce to their brother, with Agnes periodically pointing out flaws in their plan. Ilsa smiled at their fantasies but said nothing—not because she didn’t like to think of Eileen Murray or Lady Milton with the captain, no indeed not, but because she would really miss the captain’s sisters.

A distant shout made them stop and turn. “Drew,” gasped Bella. She flung up her arm and waved as Winnie hid the troublesome little book in her pocket.

The captain was not alone. To Ilsa’s surprise a tall man with ginger hair was at his side. She glanced at Agnes, whose face was pink but serene.

“What are you doing here, Drew?” demanded Winnie as the men reached them.

He winked at her. “Mother sent me. She wondered where you’d all gone this morning. I’ve been searching dress shops and milliners all over town.” His gaze settled on Ilsa. “Good morning, Mrs. Ramsay.”

“Captain.” She curtsied. “Mr. Duncan.”

The redheaded fellow removed his cap and bowed. “Ma’am.”

The captain cleared his throat. “Duncan, I hope you remember my sisters. Miss Agnes St. James, Miss Isabella, and Miss Winifred. Sisters, this is