Page 10 of The Scot is Hers
Nay, nay, nay! It was one thing to have to read that simple edict over and over in a letter that he could toss into flames, but for his mother to be standing her before him declaring she’d brought civilization to his remote and quite comfortable castle in the Highlands was enough to make his brain explode.
Alec groaned, watching as carriage after carriage pulled into the long drive, gliding over the wet gravel. Grooms leapt down from their sodden perches to hold up wide umbrellas so the occupants were not soaked. With a grimace, he turned to face his mother. There was no sense in hiding his disappointment. She knew how he’d react, which is why she’d kept this sneaky proposition a secret.
“Mother, I’m going to take a very long walk off a short cliff and haunt ye in my death.”
Lady Errol scoffed. “Oh, do no’ be so dramatic. I’ve allowed ye three years to hole up here and pout. Now it is time to stop. Ye’re a grown man. An Earl. There are duties ye must attend, such as preserving your line and leaving a legacy.”
“I have attended my responsibilities,” he said, not hiding his exasperation when he cast her a glance. “The single duty ye deem important is the one I am no’ required by law to commit to.” As required, he’d gone to the House of Lords and performed as his title dictated. He’d helped the tenants on his land, making sure that they got the repairs they required, the justice they deemed crucial, and stepped in to mend broken fences when necessary. He’d even attended to his mother, sending her gifts and flowers on special occasions and writing her once a week to keep her abreast of all that he was doing.
There was only one duty he’d shirked in his mother’s eyes, and that was finding a wife. But that was not a duty he deemed worthy of undertaking. Alec would not be the first man to leave that task to others. He was not the last of his line. He’d plenty of cousins who would be glad to be the Earl of Errol and live in his grand castle. By the time that his life was at an end, his mother would have also passed on and need not worry about being cast out. For if he had his way, he did plan to live a long life—that was, if his mother would only stop making him wish he were jumping off a cliff.
Over the past few years, he’d also not been as alone as she might think. He’d had regular visits from his friends and even commandeered one of the ballrooms in the castle as a gymnasium. Lorne, Malcolm and Euan had all joined him several times for private boxing tournaments. But for some reason, his mother preferred to think of him out here brooding in the darkness, prowling the empty halls, like some gothic beast from a novel. Alec was not some “beast,” even if the scar on his face and his temperament sometimes caused him to resemble one.
“That is a choice ye’ll come to regret, and as your mother, I must make certain ye regret nothing. So I am here, and your guests are here, and ye’re going to have a fabulous night, as well as form an attachment to one of the young ladies who’ve come to meet ye.” His mother’s tone brooked no argument. If he were a younger man, he might have snapped to attention. But he wasn’t a younger man, and so instead, his irritation only grew at being treated like a child.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he fixed her with a glare of his own. “Tell the guests to leave.”
The countess actually looked surprised. “Alec—”
“I did no’ invite them here, and I’ll no’ be choosing a bride from the lot of lasses ye probably bribed to attend.” What price did his mother have to pay?
Lady Errol straightened her spine and stared him down the way she had when he was a lad. “Get changed, my dear. The guests will all be shown to their rooms, and we shall reconvene in the drawing room for tea in due time. I’ve even taken the liberty of inviting your friends so ye might attend the party this go around.”
As she said it, his gaze caught the crest on the Duke of Sutherland’s carriage as it arrived before the castle. The bastard had not even written him a warning of what his mother had planned. Some friend he was.
Lorne Gordon, the Duke of Sutherland, stepped from the carriage with his wife, Jaime. Alec had stood witness to his best friend’s exchange of vows the year before. Lorne’s duchess was not like the other society nitwits. Alec liked her. Lorne had fallen in love with her. Every time he saw his friend, he sent up a prayer of thanks that Lorne was still alive. Seeing that bloke wander into the club in town after being missing and presumed dead had been one of the happiest moments of Alec’s life. He’d thought Lorne perished on the battlefield.
“Ye’ve a couple of hours until tea, son,” the countess kept on when Alec didn’t respond. “Enough time to find the strength to attend your guests.”
“None of the rooms are prepared,” Alec said, incredulous.
His mother smiled smugly. “They are. I wrote your housekeeper a few weeks ago to tell her of my plans.”
Alec gritted his teeth. So much for loyal servants. “I will fire her for no’ telling me.”
Lady Errol scoffed, her hands on her hips. “Ye will no’ fire her for trying to please ye.”
“I am no’ pleased. And perhaps since it was your idea, I shall fire ye.”
“Ye can no’ fire your mother.” She rolled her eyes. “I told her it was a surprise. For your birthday. Now deal with it.”
“My birthday?” Alec groaned.
“Aye. Tomorrow ye’ll be thirty. All the more reason ye should tie the knot. As I mentioned, several eligible maidens will quite fit in with your brooding mood, along with all the other things that make a good match.”
He was too shocked to be offended or tell her how much he didn’t want to do this. His mother had no boundaries. If it weren’t for the guests downstairs, he might toss her out.
“Well, I must freshen up,” she said, a nod in his direction as if the conversation was over and his future decided. “Ye can thank me later.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
She shrugged. “’Tis time, Alec. If your father were alive, he would have insisted on it long before now. I shirk my duties and promises to him by allowing ye to continue the way ye have.”
As much of a meddler as his mother was, he couldn’t fault her for wanting to do right by her late husband, his father. She was nothing if not dutiful, even in death. The reminder of his father’s passing had a wave of sadness coming over him. They’d been close, he and Alec. And while Alec had been away at war, his father had succumbed to an affliction of the heart. He’d heard the news days before he’d lost his friend in battle—days before he’d faced off with a man that he hoped to run into so he could gut him for getting in the way—Sir Joshua Keith.
His mother walked toward the library door but paused with her palm on the handle, turning to face him with a little frown puckering her brow. “Also, I think ye’re being quite selfish, my lord. Has it not occurred to ye that I might like to pass on hostess duties to a much younger lady? I am tired, Alec. And I do no’ wish to continue at this pace. I want to spend the rest of my days in as much leisure as ye’ve had here. Is that too much to ask?”
Alec frowned. The accusation she was making was unfair. “No one has said ye must continue being a hostess, Mama, least of all me. Ye can stop at any time.”
