Page 128 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
“Morehandsome,” corrected Thorne with a smirk. “Why, if on her wedding day the bride is the most beautiful woman in the room, then I cannae see why it wouldnae work for the groom.”
Bull began to chuckle, and Fawkes scoffed good-naturedly. “It doesnae work that way, ye dobber. I’m far more attractive than ye.”
“Well, my Kitisthe most beautiful woman in the room.” He watched her across Stroken’s ballroom—the estate in the Highlands was even larger than the one in London—chatting with her mother and Ellie. “And I’ll no’ hear a word otherwise.”
His cousin hummed, then sighed. “I suppose, since itisher wedding day, I have to agree. But she’s prettier than ye are.”
“I ken for a fact she’s got prettier knees,” Bull offered.
Thorne swung on him. “When did ye see my wife’s knees?”
“Och, Thorne, ye’re forgetting our adventures intravesti? I was the one to design that orange frock she’s wearing, ye fool.”
Aye, that was right. At Thorne’s request, Kit was wearing the gown she’d worn in her first Society appearance, the evening she’d met her father for the first time. The evening they’d first danced.
Fawkes hummed. “He’s right, ye ken.” When Thorne looked at his cousin, it was to see the other man staring at his legs. “Yedohave ugly knees. Why do we all have to wear these kilts?”
“Becauseit’straditional,” Thorne snapped. “The ladies love them. I told ye that, aye? Was I wrong?”
Fawkes grinned. “Nay, Ellie is quite fond of me in a kilt.”
“And look at the way Georgia is hovering over Demon,” Bull pointed out. “She’s clearly loving him in his Hayle kilt.”
“Nay, she’s just trying to make certain he doesnae drop wee Rosie,” Fawkes countered. “Now, yer brother Rourke cuts a fine figure in his Lindsay colors, and Sophia kens it.”
Bull snorted, his gaze finding the couple in question, who were clearly exasperated by whatever the twelve-year-oldtwins—Hunter and Grace—were asking. As they watched, Sophia shooed them toward Griffin’s daughter Marcia and turned to her husband with a relieved smile.
Miracle of miracles, Rourke smiled back and offered his wife the arm not holding his silver-tipped cane.
“Perhaps,” Bull offered, “but with that scar up his leg, his knees are even uglier than Thorne’s. Ye ken who looks good in a Lindsay kilt?” He stuck out a leg. “Me.”
“I’m surprised ye’re no’ in the MacIver colors, like yer stepfather and brother,” Thorne teased.
“I have one, but decided to match Rourke tonight,” the lad breezed. “I had to help Rupert with his pleats. I think it bothers him it’s no’ something he can memorize out of a book.”
“I noticed yer sister Marcia is wearing MacIver colors.” Fawkes nodded across the way to where she was gesturing animatedly with the twins. “She’s proud of her new clan?”
“Nay,” snorted Bull. “She’s just irritated that Rupert and I chose to wear something without pockets, so we compromised with a bodice made from the tartan and a few hidden compartments.”
Thorne grinned ruefully as he clapped his young friend’s shoulder. “Ye are a talented lad, Bull.”
To his surprise, the young man flushed and glanced down at the glass he’d clasped with both hands. “Aye. That’s what…that’s what Her Highness says. The Princess.”
Says. Had Bull been in contact with Princess Louise since the horrible encounter in Thorne’s music room? Thorne squeezed the lad’s shoulder.
“I’m proud to ken ye, lad,” he said quietly. “Whatever yer future brings, I ken ye’ll makeallof us proud. If ye ever want to talk about what happened, or whatishappening, I hope ye’ll remember I’m yer friend.”
Fawkes cleared his throat. “And me.” When Bull glanced athim in surprise, Fawkes shrugged, cheeks darkening. “I mean, ye’re no’ all that bad, ye little shite.”
In a blink, Bull’s confident smirk was back. “I’m fairly wonderful, in fact.”
“And modest,” Thorne smirked. “Och, hello, Danielle.”
Fawkes lit up when his wife joined them, sliding her hand through his arm and squeezing up against him. “Congratulationscousin,” she teased Thorne. “You know we are now double cousins, with you marrying Kit?”
“I suppose we are.” Two sets of cousins marrying one another—well, their children would never be allowed to marry, that was for certain. “And I couldnae be happier to have you as part of my family.”
“Yes, well, I am no Gloria Pastorino,” Danielle teased, nodding across the room to where Kit and her mother had been joined by Fawkes’s mother. “I heard how tongue-tied you became when she first arrived in London.”
