“As are ye.”
“Cecelia!” Her mother’s shrill voice bludgeoned Liam’s eardrums. He and Cecelia looked at once toward the lady.
Cecelia let out a long sigh. “Mama.”
“It’s time to depart,” Lady Thornberry said. “I have a megrim.”
Disappointment besieged Liam when Cecelia nodded, though he could tell it was reluctantly so by the look she gave him.
“Go along and say your farewells to our hosts, Cecelia,” her mother added. “I will follow.”
Cecelia frowned but moved to do as she was bid. “Good night, Lord MacLeod. Perhaps we shall see each other again soon.”
“I think not,” her mother answered before he could. The woman was a giant splinter in his thumb; however, she was Cecelia’s mother so he held his tongue.
The moment Cecelia was gone, her mother turned to him. “Lord MacLeod, might I be blunt?”
“By all means,” he replied, feeling sure that even if he had said no, she would have done as she pleased anyway.
“My daughter is not for you. Please turn your attention elsewhere.”
He suspected Cecelia’s mother was saying this because she thought him lacking in funds, and she had apparently not yet been enlightened. He could tell her so now, but he wanted a bit more time to get to know Cecelia without the trappings that came with his status being known.
Lady Thornberry gave him an expectant stare, and he knew she wished him to consent. That he could not do. Instead, he said, “How do ye know yer daughter and I would not suit? We’ve only just met. I daresay, neither of us even knows it.”
“I know it,” she snapped, “and Cecelia will do as I say. She owes it to me.” With that, Lady Thornberry left him and disappeared into the thick crowd.
Suddenly, Aila was standing by his side. “I could not help but overhear,” she said, giving him a concerned look.
“Ye mean ye were lurking and listening when ye ought not have been?”
Aila scowled. “That is a matter of perspective, brother dear. I am happy and in love, and I want to see ye the same.” She plucked her hands on her hips, which meant she was about to give one of her lectures, which was highly amusing since he was laird. “Ye could make things much easier for yerself with Cecelia’s mother by telling her that ye are wealthy.”
“I could,” he replied evenly, “but I prefer to know for certain that Cecelia likesme, despite her thinking I have nothing to offer other than myself.”
Aila grinned. “Just as Father did to Mother!”
Liam nodded. “And Grandfather did to Grandmother.”
She quirked her mouth. “How far back do ye think the tradition goes?”
He shrugged. “I’m uncertain.”
“Ye’d not be the first laird to take an English bride. Remember the story of Lady Marion, and how our ancestor Iain married her to help save the king?”
“I remember,” he said, chuckling, “but no one has said anything about me taking an English bride. I just met Cecelia.”
“I know,” Aila replied, but he could see the dreamy look in her eyes. It was the same one she got whenever she talked about Aldridge. “But I see something between the two of ye. Some spark I’ve never seen with ye and any lass before.”
He felt it, too, but he didn’t say so. He knew better than to encourage his sister. She had a tendency to mettle when she should not, and her meddling had a habit of bringing confusion and chaos instead of clarification and order.
“Will ye call upon her?” she asked.
“I’d like to, but I don’t think her mother will welcome it.”
“I’ve an idea for that,” Aila said, motioning to someone. Liam turned to find Aldridge headed toward them.
The marquess stopped in front of them, nodded congenially to Liam, and then smiled at Aila with obvious adoration. “I’ve been looking for you.”
