Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“Did I try arguing with the two people who hate me? Absolutely not,” she replied, snorting as if I’d asked her the most stupid question ever.
In her defence, it was a stupid question.
Nobody told my grandparents ‘No.’ Especially not my mother.
Their relationship was tempestuous at best, nuclear war at worst.
It generally hovered somewhere in the middle of Roman Empire-esque.
“Fair enough,” I replied. “Seriously. Do you not have any friends whose daughters I can steal for a week?”
“If your sister was getting married in Greece? Absolutely. But no offense, Will, nobody wants to go to the Scottish Highlands in bloody February. Except your sister.”
I grimaced. She was right. My sister’s desire for a snowy wedding—which wasn’t a given, even in the middle of nowhere where the Glenroch estate was—meant our final week of February and first of March would be spent in the cold of northern Scotland.
None of us were happy about it, but my parents were just glad that my grandfather was finally letting my mother in the house.
“Freya is getting married on March first,” I pointed out.
“That’s just February twenty-ninth in disguise.”
I sighed.
I wasn’t going to argue.
“I’ll figure something out,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Or I’ll call Grandma and see if she can talk Grandpa out of it.”
“Good luck with that.” She turned around and then paused, looking back at me over her shoulder. “Consider Emily Darlington.”
I frowned. “Lord Hampton’s niece?”
“Yes. She’s not strictly the aristocracy, but she’s got a prestigious enough bloodline that your grandfather might not have a stroke if you brought her. She’s single, and I believe she had an interest in you a couple of years ago.”
She did?
That was news to me.
“Oh,” I replied. “Are you sure? She never mentioned it.”
“You were dating Sylvia at that point.”
That’d be why she didn’t mention it.
I couldn’t say I’d ever been particularly interested in Emily. Not that she was unattractive or a horrible person. She was perfectly lovely, and I was happy to have a conversation with her if our paths happened to cross, but I simply couldn’t remember ever being interested in her as more than a friend.
Which, unfortunately, made her a less than desirable option to be my plus one. I didn’t want to give her any wrong ideas, and it didn’t matter if I told her straight up it was purely as friends.
I would be taking her away for a long weekend to Scotland to my sister’s wedding.
No woman would believe it was just friends.
“Right. I’ll think about it.”
“Oh, William,” Mum said, turning to me. “Do try to find someone who your grandfather will deem suitable for you. He’s getting on a bit, and I fear you bringing home a commoner like your father will finish him off.” She stopped, tilted her head to the side, and looked at the bookcase contemplatively. “Then again…”
“Mother!” I just about fought back a laugh. “I’ll give Emily some consideration, all right? I’m not promising anything, though, and I will talk to him if not. Worst case scenario, I’ll humour him for the weekend with Caitlin, even if it might kill me.”
She pressed her lips together as if she was going to say something, but she turned away at the last moment and walked out of the living room.
I sighed and dropped my head back against the sofa cushions, throwing my arm over my eyes. I wasn’t going to go after her—she was going through her own emotions having to deal with the upcoming visit to Glenroch Castle, and I knew she was struggling.
I couldn’t blame her.
After all, she was the reason the Glenroch line had almost broken beyond repair.
Well, she wasn’t. My grandfather and his archaic feelings were, but her presence was the trigger.
The Dukedom of Glenroch—the one my family had held for hundreds of years—was one of the oldest in the entire United Kingdom, never mind Scotland. My grandfather, the current duke, was set in his ways, and I wasn’t surprised at all to find that he’d chosen someone he felt was suitable for me to marry.
Clearly, my father telling him to stuff it and marrying my mum instead hadn’t taught the old curmudgeon a thing.
He’d wanted my father to marry someone of a bloodline he deemed suitable, even going so far as to arrange a marriage, but the way my father tells it, they both scuppered that plan and married the people they wanted to.
It fractured their relationship almost to a point of no return, and although Grandpa denies it, I wonder if he would have disowned my dad if he’d had a second son instead of two daughters after him.
Especially since my sister was born first.
I truly believe that the only time my grandfather ever really liked my mother was the day I was born.
I wasn’t sure we’d have any relationship with them at all if not for my grandmother.