A Scot to the Heart (Desperately Seeking Duke #2) - Caroline Linden Page 0,62

it’s not your choice to make. You would not wish them to make it for you, would you? You cannot presume to make it for either of them.”

“But our family member is being a fool!”

Ilsa raised her brows. “I’ve not met a St. James yet who was a fool.”

Bella rolled her eyes. “You have, we just see it more clearly after years of exposure to them.”

“But what can we do?” asked Winnie earnestly. “To make them see reason and—and woo the other party.”

“Woo?” Ilsa tried not to laugh.

“One of them has to say something,” said Bella wrathfully. “And we’ve already stated that our family member is being an idiot!”

Ilsa stroked Cyrus’s soft black fur. The purring had stopped; he was sound asleep in her lap, curled into a trusting little ball. She wondered if Robert would like him, and then told herself Cyrus was not her cat. He would go to England with the St. Jameses.

“When it comes to love, you cannot force it to flower,” she said, eyes on the kitten. “It is a wild plant. It will grow, or not, where it wills, often despite your best intentions. Perhaps the best you can do is beware of its thorns and do your best to prune it.”

Well did she know that. She had wanted to love her husband; for a while, she’d thought she did. Her father had arranged the marriage, but Malcolm had been handsome and eligible and Ilsa had agreed happily, eager to escape her father’s house and Jean’s strict rules and see something of the world.

It had not happened that way. Malcolm had been, like her father, a man about town, known in every tavern and public room. He had not wanted to change his bachelor ways and take her to the theater or the art galleries, as she longed to do. His friends, he claimed, were not a lady’s society, and he would neither give them up nor take her out in their company. He expected her to sit at home, quietly reading or sewing, when Ilsa had yearned to dance and host dinner parties and go see balloon ascents. Her feelings of love had not lasted long. Malcolm, of course, had never felt any to begin with.

And as for Drew . . . She was not going to allow herself to think of love.

Bella and Winnie were gazing at her with identical disgusted expressions. “Prune it?” echoed Winnie, as if the words were blasphemous.

“Thorns?” Bella wrinkled her nose. “Does true love have thorns?”

Ilsa couldn’t even smile at their disappointment. Not only did love have thorns, some of them were tipped with poison. “I don’t know much about love, at least in marriage. Perhaps your mother will have better suggestions.”

They exchanged glances of dismay.

Feeling awkward now, she handed the kitten back to Bella and climbed to her feet. “I do wish your family member great happiness, you know. I just believe she will work out on her own how to find it.”

Bella gave a muffled snort.

“Hopefully before we’ve left Edinburgh and it’s too late,” muttered Winnie.

“Well.” She flattened her hands on her skirt. The warm spot where Cyrus had curled felt cold now. “I will see you at dinner.”

“Thank you for your advice. And—and you won’t say anything to anyone about our questions, will you?”

Agnes would combust with fury and mortification if she knew. Ilsa shook her head and tapped her nose. “I swear not,” she said gravely. “On my very soul.”

That elicited a wan smile from Bella, and Ilsa was able to depart with a smile on her own face.

It was only in her own room that she gave in to the yawning emptiness inside her when she thought of the St. Jameses’ departure for England. She leaned against the door, shuddering, and put her face in her hands. No more of Agnes’s company. No more teasing and plotting with her sisters.

No more Drew, with his impertinent winks, saucy good humor, and incendiary kisses. In the moment when she’d thought Winnie and Bella meant Drew, and were trying to match him with her . . . Before the awkwardness had gripped her, there had been a searing burst of hope in her heart for one moment. That his sisters had sensed that he was in love with her. That he wanted to marry her. And even more, that they would all look on the match happily.

That little explosion of happiness inside her had caught her off guard. She had promised Agnes no hearts would