“That is unconscionable!” Isla exclaimed. “He is throwing a husband-hunting ball?”
“Nothing to that extent,” Hugh murmured and leaped away when Isla slammed her foot into his.
“How dare you, Hugh MacCallan!”
“It’s not me!” he cried out. “’Twas Gregor’s idea!”
“But you knew all this time and did not think to warn us,” Honoria accused, her hands settling on her hips.
“Duncan thought it best not to, said you might run off.”
“And he would have been right in his assumption,” Isla snapped. “You think I’d agree to choose a husband from a ballroom of men after you sent away the man I favored? I shall not stand for it!”
“I did not send Patrick away.”
“You did not stop them either,” Honoria muttered. And then another matter suddenly became clear—the reason Hugh had sent word to Adair. “That is why you send word to them. You are afraid I might become too attached to Lash.”
“We want you to be happy,” Hugh murmured. “But we want you close. If you married a man within the surrounding families, you’d never be far.”
“You are all horrible,” Isla said, casting Hugh a disapproving look. “Patrick was close.”
Hugh sent them a long-suffering look.
“And what about us?” Honoria demanded. “Do we not get a choice in the matter?”
“Of course you do,” Hugh said. “If none of the gentlemen appeal to you, then we will not force the matter. Adair merely wished to provide an opportunity for you to mingle with gentlemen of your stature.”
“And when are these prospects due to arrive?” Isla queried.
“At month’s end,” Hugh confirmed.
That gave them just over a fortnight.
“And we will not be forced to make a choice?” Isla prompted.
Hugh shook his head.
“You best not be lying to us, Hugh,” Isla echoed. “Or there will be hell to pay.”
“Aye,” Honoria snapped, marching from the chamber. “Or there will be hell to pay.”
