“Mother, you won’t become English,” he tried to say, but she gave him such a look, he stopped.
“You will.” She laid her hand on his cheek. “You cannot become an English duke and not change.”
“Do you want me to refuse it?” Not that he could, if it were granted to him. Edwards had been very clear on that point.
She sighed. “No. I know you cannot. And in truth, I suspect we will all come to like it far more than we think now. ’Tis just so sudden.” She looked at him questioningly. “But I’ve not asked what you think of it.”
He stirred uncomfortably. “Never mind that . . .”
“Are you pleased, then?”
He set his jaw. “Thanks to Carlyle, I can take care of you and the girls as you deserve. And I’m not sorry at all to resign my commission in the miserable army. So yes, I would say I am more pleased than not.”
Instantly she clasped his hand in hers. “Of course. We’ve not forgotten how you sacrificed for us all these years. And I am happy for you, truly I am . . .” She smiled, more determined than joyful. “Give me a few days to acclimate my mind to it and I will begin to see the advantages, as well.”
“The duchess hoped you might.”
“Did she?” Some of his mother’s pride returned. “What did she think of you, as the heir?”
He made a face. “Not much at all. She bestowed an income on me with a stern admonition to make myself worthy.”
Louisa frowned. “My son, not worthy! Of course you are. And a fair sight more capable than she had any right to expect, given their coldness to your father and grandfather.”
He laughed. “That’s it—amuse yourself thinking of a sober, parsimonious Scot inheriting the magnificence of Carlyle Castle.”
At that his mother laughed. “You, sober and parsimonious! You’ve not been away that long, laddie. I know you better than that.”
Still grinning, he squeezed her hand. “And that’s why you shouldn’t worry, Mother. You know me.”
Ilsa was joined by all three St. James girls on her morning ramble.
Bella and Winnie rushed to Robert with cries of delight, and he shamelessly wallowed in their fawning attention. Ilsa rolled her eyes at Agnes, who laughed.
“Has something befallen the shop?”
“Mama wanted to speak to Drew,” said Agnes. “Alone.”
“Rip into him, you mean,” called Bella, still stroking Robert’s neck.
Ilsa raised her brows in question, and Agnes grinned. “She’ll be giving him what-for about that house in England.”
“And then?” Ilsa knew enough nobility to know that a title—any title, but particularly a dukedom—had a mighty pull. She would wager it took Mrs. St. James no more than a few weeks to warm to the idea.
“And then we’ll go live in it,” exclaimed Winnie. “Drew said he would take us to London for a Season—can you imagine, Ilsa?”
“I cannot,” she said, smiling even as her heart suffered a pang.
“Winnie just fancies a new wardrobe.”
Winnie made a face at her older sister. “Aye, and the entertainments in London, and the society, and most of all a chance to meet people I’ve not known all my life!”
Ilsa laughed. “You’re braver than I, my dear. I would fear making a terrible fool of myself there.”
“You’re not a fool, Ilsa,” declared Winnie. “Never!”
“I have my moments,” she murmured.
“You know a Season would require a proper chaperone and sponsor,” Agnes told her sister. “And you think Mama scolds you for being too boisterous. Imagine a proper lady in charge of you!”
Bella looked up. “Aye, we would need a sponsor, but Winnie and I have a plan for that.” She left Robert’s side and hurried over, drawing a slim book 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.