Page 47 of Duke It Out
“You’re still in one piece, then.” Kate grins as she climbs into the back seat.
“Excuse me,” says Janey, laughing. “There’s nothing wrong with my driving.”
“I’m not saying there is. I’m merely wondering if Edie’s checked the risk assessment forms.”
“You can walk, madam, if you prefer. Or catch the bus,” Janey adds, putting the car into gear and crunching back out of the stable yard.
“The bus comes twice a week.”
Janey shrugs nonchalantly. “You’d better put up with my driving then.”
“Does it really come twice a week?” I turn to look at Kate.
“Yep. First thing in the morning, back at six. I remember my granny catching it to go Christmas shopping. It was a big event, the Christmas trip to Inverness.”
“You must find this all a bit weird, coming from down south,” Janey remarks.
“Well, I grew up in a village outside Edinburgh, so it was hardly the metropolis. But it’s been a long time since I lived in Scotland, and the only time I’ve ever been to the Highlands before was a caravan holiday when I was twelve. But I already love it here.”
I look out of the window for a moment, spotting a herd of shaggy-haired Highland cows in the field by the road. I swear my heart expands every time I see something like that. Living up here isn’t something I’d ever really thought about, but the strange thing is, it feels like home.
“Have you heard of that astrological thing that says there are three places in the world where you feel you really belong?” Kate sits forward, elbows on her knees, her chin cupped in her hands as she peers through the gap between the front seats.
I frown. “No?”
“I love you,” Janey says, laughing. “But your hippy side is completely bananas.”
We stop on the main road to Inverness after an hour, picking up coffee and pastries from a cute converted horse trailer.
“Do you know what you’re wearing?”
Janey wipes crumbs from her mouth and shakes herhead. “To the ball? No idea. Whichever dress I didn’t wear last year.”
That’s why we’re heading to the city of Inverness, the famous Loch Morven ball is looming on the horizon and I – funnily enough – didn’t bring a ball dress in my case when I packed for a writing job. That, and the minor details that is the fact that I don’t own a ball dress, which at the age of thirty seemed perfectly reasonable until now.
“It’s always more fun shopping for someone else than it is standing in front of a mirror looking like a twit,” says Kate cheerfully.
“Thanks.” I give her my best side eye, and she snorts a laugh.
“When’s Rory back?” Kate adds, and I try to look disinterested, fiddling with the lid of my take-out cup.
“Next week, I think. Thought it was too good to be true having him here for an extended period of time. As soon as Theo said he’d gone to New York, I guessed he’d gone back into work mode.”
“He’s probably desperate to avoid the ball in case Fenella Soames turns up.”
“Who?” I say, trying to sound casual.
Kate groans. “Let’s say she fancies herself as the duchess-in-waiting.”
My stomach contracts.
“Oh no, Rory is definitely here for the ball.” Janey overtakes a campervan which is bumbling along at forty miles an hour. “He couldn’t exactly miss it, being the duke.”
“Shit, yeah,” says Kate. “I forget sometimes. Imagine having all that stuff to deal with.”
“I don’t envy him.” Janey glances in the rearview mirror,meeting Kate’s eyes. “I mean the castle and everything is lovely, but the responsibility?” She puffs out a breath.
“I’m sure Fenella would be more than happy to give him a hand,” Kate says.
