Page 13 of The Duke's Daring Bride

Alistair’s brows had risen.

Mother had told them he’d be choosing a bride? Damnation, perhaps he should have pulled out his notebook and had a real argument with her.

She’s right though. Ye do need a bride.

But the thought of Mother announcing it, especially when he didn’t have any interest in wooing one of the silly ladies who attended social gatherings, galled him.

“Now look what you have done,” hissed Amelia. “He does not want to take us. We should have been more subtle.”

“That is not it at all,” Amanda huffed in return. “He is shocked because clearly he did not know about Mother’s declaration of marriage. Do you think she forgot to mention it to him first?”

As they bickered, Alistair’s surprise turned into a frown.

Since when was Amanda interested in balls? Actually, for that matter, since when did either sister care so much about social events? As far as he knew, they spent their days reading, gossiping, spending his money, and teaching Hamish new tricks. When they were in the country they fell out of trees and scraped their knees, or whatever it was lasses did.

Alistair’s gaze flicked to the lace in Amanda’s hair. He thought she didn’t want to marry?

He twitched another brow in question.

Luckily they’d become skilled at guessing his meaning. Amelia sighed. “We have no interest in securing husbands, Alistair, but the people we could meet…”

“We have made it our personal mission to meet the Earl of Bonkinbone’s daughters, for instance,” Amanda put in. “The younger one is married to Viscount Cumnock, but he has been ill since shortly after the wedding—”

“And the older one is now married to a duke, but there are some deliciously scandalous rumors circulating about them.”

Alistair shook his head. He had no interest in Society’s rumors, and hadn’t realized his sisters did, either. Did Mother encourage this sort of thing?

Of course she does. She’s the one who started the rumor about ye marrying, aye?

But he did have a special license. He could marry anyone he wanted, as soon as he wanted.

Ye’d be a fool, then.

Well, aye.

A wife of his station would be someone raised by those who’d mocked him in school, who’d humiliated him until he’d grown strong enough to defend himself with his fists. She’d see him as lesser because of his lack of voice.

No, he couldn’t imagine marrying anyone he might meet in Society.

“Amelia!” Amanda was glaring at her sister. “You know he has no interest in that sort of thing!”

“I was just trying to fill in the silence,” Amelia protested.

“Jabber jabber jabber,” squawked Hamish. “Shut yer gobholes.”

Alistair’s lips twitched.

“Oh, shut up, bird,” snapped Amanda. “Alistair does not mind if we talk.”

“You do not, do you?” Amelia asked, blinking innocently.

To be honest, Alistair had grown used to their chatter. After his illness, he’d been sequestered—alone—for many years. Then, when Uncle Ian thought him well enough, Mother had sent him off to school. He was used to others talking around him—for him—and when he’d returned home, his sisters were just…always there.

Always, always talking.

So his lips curled ruefully and he shook his head. No, he didn’t mind their jabber, as Hamish said.

“So, Alistair? When you go out into Society, may we join you?” Amelia’s eyes lit with excitement. “We promise not to do anything scandalous!”

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