Page 108 of Duke It Out
“Och,” says Janey soothingly. “I’m sure there’ll be another scandal soon enough.”
“Probably caused by Jamie,” Kate says carelessly, adjusting the posy of wildflowers pinned to her dress.
“I don’t care,” I say, pushing my hair back over my shoulders. It’s hanging loose, more wildflowers pinned in my red waves. Even the prospect of public humiliation can’t dent my mood today.
Through the window of what was once the duchess’s dressing room I can see the activity on the lawns below. White chairs are arranged in semi circles facing down towards the loch. Wildflowers and greenery picked fresh from the estate this morning, their bright colours capturing exactly the mood we wanted – not staid and formal, but relaxed and joyful. Children are darting around, already sticky from the candy-floss cart we both agreed had to make another appearance. Through the trees I catch a glimpse of the striped canopy of the carousel.
“There,” says Janey, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Perfect, even by my impossibly high standards.”
The door opens, and Annabel sweeps in, dressed in a soft gold dress and high sandals, her honey blonde hair pinned back in a chignon. She looks incredibly glamorous, like she’s about to accept a lifetime achievement award at the Oscars.
“Oh darling,” she says, eyes immediately filling with tears. “You look absolutely beautiful. You all do.” She air-kisses all three of us and looks me up and down.
I smooth down the plain silk gown. Despite Annabel’s best efforts to convince me that this was my one and only opportunity to “Go for it, my angel, you need something befitting a duchess,” I knew there was no way I could carry off a gigantic swishy meringue with a veil.
Annabel dabs carefully at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I have something for you. Yoursomething borrowed, although I think we’ll call it more of a permanent loan or a return to its rightful owner.”
She reaches into her clutch and pulls out a small velvet box. “Rory’s mother lent me this for a ball donkey’s years ago.”
Inside the box is a slim silver bracelet set with pale stones that catch the light as she fastens it around my wrist.
“I think she’d be delighted to see you wear it,” Annabel says softly.
“I can’t—” I say touching the cool stones, suddenly overwhelmed.
“You absolutely can,” Annabel interrupts. “There’s been far too much about his father over the last few decades, and not a word about my dear friend.”
Janey’s wiping her eyes and even Kate’s having a discreet sniff when a knock at the door pulls us back to our senses.
Finn pokes his head around the door, surprisingly formal in full Highland dress. Even his scruff of beard has been tamed, leaving only the unkept waves of dark hair falling over his face as a reminder that he’s here on his own terms.
“If we don’t get this show on the road,” he says gruffly, “Jamie’s going to get started on the whisky and rewrite his best man’s speech, and God knows what that will lead to.”
I take a deep breath. “I hate to think.”
Kate slips out to take her place, and Janey and Annabel follow, each giving me a final kiss on the cheek.
“Luckiest man in Scotland,” Janey whispers, “and if he ever forgets it, I’ll personally remove his kneecaps.”
Then it’s just me and Finn in the empty room. He offers his arm in a surprisingly gentlemanly fashion.
“Thanks for this,” I say, taking it. “I know this sort of thing is your idea of hell.”
He shrugs. “Jamie would have been distracted halfway down the aisle.” As we make our way down the grand staircase, he adds, “I was right about you. I had my suspicions from the start.”
I shoot him a look of alarm, and he disarms me with a rare grin.
“You’re the first person who saw him for who he really is. Not the duke, not the castle – just my uptight, overthinking brother who needs someone to tell him he’s being a monumental idiot from time to time.”
We’ve reached the entrance hall. Through the open doors, I can see the guests gathered on the lawn and the glittering waters of Loch Morven beyond. And standing at the front in his dark kilt, looking handsome and distracted, is Rory.
“Besides,” Finn adds, as we pause at the threshold, “anyone who tells him to bugger off and walks out of his castle deserves to be family. We need a bit more of that around here.”
The music begins – a Highland folk melody, which is light and cheerful, unlike the first songs the band suggested at the rehearsal, which sounded like a requiem for someone’s dead cat and made everyone giggle.
Heads turn and I feel a momentary flutter of panic. There are so many people here. There are locals from the village – Ginny waves at me excitedly as I approach – but also a sprinkling of aristocrats who couldn’t quite believe that the Duke of Kinnaird was marrying a writer from Edinburgh whose most notable family connection was a grandmother who once won a haggis-hurling contest.
But then my eyes lock with Rory’s and everyone else seems to disappear.
