Chapter 9
When Honoria entered the dining room for breakfast the following morning, she was greeted by none other than Hugh. Taken aback, she lifted a single brow at his presence. He never awakened this early and by his sour countenance, she could tell he wished he hadn’t. His eyes were bloodshot—a sign that whisky had dominated his evening. Just as well, for it meant he would be too tired to pester her about her life’s choices.
“What a lovely surprise, brother.”
He shot her a menacing look.
Honoria suppressed a grin and helped herself to a plate of oats. She was in no mood to draw swords with him this morning. How would he react if he knew Lash had kissed her? It would certainly imply that any “interest” on her part was mutual.
Excitement thrummed through her. Since every attempt at banishing improper fantasies had been futile, she may as well entertain them.
“Where is Isla?” Hugh asked. “Does she not rise before the break of dawn?”
Honoria took a seat across from her brother, shrugging. Isla spent mornings out by the stables, having formed a friendship with the head groom, Mr. Ross. She was not about to tell Hughthat. Not after what happened the last time. Though she ought to warn Isla to be more careful—if Honoria had noticed the shy glances, it was only a matter of time before their brothers did.
“I’m concerned for her,” Hugh said.
“And here I thought you were up in arms over our guest,” Honoria remarked.
“I am concerned about both,” Hugh snapped.
Honoria wrinkled her nose. “Give our sister some credit, Isla is strong. And while you are at it, why not give me some of that benefit, as well?”
“She is seventeen years old.”
“Only for a few days more,” Honoria pointed out. “Age aside, she has more sense than half the men in this household. Keeping us locked away on the moors of Scotland will not work for much longer.”
“This is hardly the moors of Scotland.”
“It may as well be. ‘Why do men get to have all the fun?’ I ask myself. Perhaps Isla and I should start a whisky distillery of our own—it would certainly be more gratifying than wasting away in a castle.”
His russet eyes bulged. “You are not supposed to know about that.”
Honoria shrugged. “Sound carries across the stone. We have overheard all of you talk about your smuggling and dealings.” She raked him with a look. “Which is why expecting us to live above reproach is beyond maddening.”
“That iswhywe require you to behave above reproach,” Hugh countered, looking uncomfortable.
“Keeping the family name respectable, right?” Honoria mocked.
Hugh dragged his hands over his face. “Why did you not say anything? Adair is going to lose his mind once he learns you knew all along.”
“I wager he won’t.” Honoria stirred her tea and stared at her brother from beneath her lashes. “He’ll be unmasked as the worst sort of hypocrite.”
“Lass . . .” Hugh groaned. “I wish you hadn’t told me.”
“Aye, but wishes don’t grow on rainbows in this castle, do they?” Honoria drawled in a syrupy voice. “Be that as it may, it is absurd to keep us sheltered for the rest of our lives.”
“Not the rest of your life.”
“Och, you mean until the ball where you collected the most tedious men in creation to rub off on us?”
“They are Highlanders,” Hugh said as if that meant everything.
“How unexceptionally familiar.”
Hugh raised a brow. “I take that to mean you have a preference?”
“Of course I have a preference! And let me assure you, picking a husband from a list of men my brothers thought to invite does not count as picking my own husband. Do you imagine me with a stick-in-the-mud man who reads the paper all day?”
