Page 4 of What a Scot Wants
“My goodness, what is it?” she asked, lowering herself into the leather chair and peering at her mother, whose face remained pinched. “What has happened? You look upset.”
Her mother, standing by the hearth, her hands clasped nervously together in front of her skirt, was first to speak. “No, dear, not upset. Quite the opposite, in fact. The Maclarens are in town. Lady Dunrannoch is an old friend, and well, it’s about the duke’s engagement, you see. The Maclaren family’s solicitor has reached out to let us know that it has been put into effect. We wondered if it ever would be, but honestly, I’d assumed…well, he’s also a Highlander laird, and I’ve never heard of any laird choosingnotto wed…”
Imogen attempted to follow her mother’s breathy, rambling sentences.Maclaren?The name was well-known. They were a wealthy, influential family, and the duke was rumored to be a strict, ruthless sort of man. But she could hardly see what their arrival in Edinburgh or his engagement had to do with her, so she relaxed somewhat.
“What your mother is trying to say,” Imogen’s father cut in, though Imogen herself had already closed one ear to her mother’s chirping and slipped into her own thoughts about Haven and its dangerously slim funds, “is that a decision must be made. We want only for your happiness, but we must take into account your security as well. You will forever be taken care of so long as I am alive, my dear, but my title and holdings are all entailed. Once I am gone, you will be dependent upon whichever one of my cousins is still alive to inherit.”
Imogen closed her eyes. She didn’t want to imagine what would happen after her parents were gone. She couldn’t imagine a world without them. Her inheritance, properly managed, would be more than enough for her and Haven.
Suddenly, the rest of what her father had said sank in.
“Wait. Whatdecisionneeds to be made?”
“Your engagement, dear.” Her mother’s brows drew together. “Haven’t you been listening to a word we’ve been saying?”
She blinked, her lungs shriveling and her ears beginning to pound like a distant tide. “Pardon, Mama…did you saymyengagement?”
“Yes,yourbetrothal agreement, Imogen. To the Duke of Dunrannoch, Laird of Maclaren.”
No, no, no.That couldn’t possibly be right. Her brain refused to cooperate to form a coherent response. A protest. Anything at all. Nothing would come. Her body went cold with fear and dread. The first, and last, time she’d been engaged had been a disaster.
Silas Calder had been one thing on the surface and something quite different beneath it. Even now, her parents didn’t know the depth of his deception, and she hoped they would never find out. Silas was out of their lives for good. The last she’d heard from her friend Shane McClintock was that he’d been run off to Italy. She hoped she and her family would never lay eyes on the man again.
But now, even the thought of marrying another made her feel ill.
Her mother finally moved from the hearth, toward her. “I know you’ve been against marriage ever since Silas—”
“Do not say that name!” Imogen was on her feet before she knew what she was doing. The blood rushed from her head to her ankles, and she felt dizzy. But the brewing anger stayed firmly in place.
“Ever since you broke off the engagement because you didn’t suit,” her mother forged ahead. “But Imogen, your father and I have discussed it at length, and we have a duty to see you protected and secure.”
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need to wed to be secure.”
“We know you are capable, dear,” her father said, “but when the late duke approached me with his proposal a few years ago, I couldn’t see the error in it. The alliance would benefit both of our families, considering his son’s own reluctance to wed, and your mother and I would not have to worry about your future if you remained on the solitary path you seemed to favor. After the debacle with Silas, we’d hoped you’d accept one of the other suitors who called on you, but…”
He didn’t finish, though his chiding tone was enough. Imogen’s staunch refusal to court any of the men who’d called on her had been tolerated, but as she’d slipped into her late twenties, she was well aware her parents had become anxious. How could she explain that the thought of marriage to anyone made her physically sick. Then she would have to tell them about Silas, andthatshe could not do. The devil had hurt enough people. It would kill her father to know what the man he’d trusted like a son had done.
Imogen had thought this was all water under the bridge—an independent and happy future in her grasp—only to be faced withthiscalamity.
An arranged marriage! She couldn’t fathom the current Duke of Dunrannoch, given his reputation, would want this any more than she.
Imogen grasped at that. “Why on earth would the duke accept such an agreement?”
“Because if he doesn’t, he stands to lose his family business. A whisky distillery,” her father said, standing up from the sofa.
For the second time that day, Imogen felt the burn of tears behind her eyes. She felt deceived. Misled. By the two people whom she trusted the most. She suddenly felt like a stranger in the room, as if she didn’t know the man and woman standing before her at all.
“His Grace has agreed,” her mother offered, her voice purposefully light and optimistic.
“Of course he has,” Imogen said, her throat tight with a notion of what sort of man this Maclaren laird was. “That Highland boor would probably marry a tree stump if it meant he wouldn’t lose his precious whisky stills.”
Her mother reached for her, and Imogen flinched away, ignoring the hurt on her face. “We just want you to be happy, darling.”
“Iamhappy,” she said. “I don’t need a man for that to be the case.”
“He’s a duke. You’ll want for nothing,” her father said.
“And if I refuse?” she asked, her jaw firming.
