Chapter 2 #2
“Don’t try to give me compliments,” she muttered as Aunt Catherine took the place Arran had just vacated.
“I take it in terms of favorite McQuoids, I’ve fallen in the ranks,” Arran said.
He’d always been her favorite. Cassia had been her friend, but Arran had regaled Linnie with things he’d done and seen, and he’d brought Captain Jeremy Tremaine into her life.
Refusing to let Linnie to her anger, Arran nudged his elbow into her arm.
Still, she didn’t deign to look at him. “Oleander and Andromena have outplaced your number one spot. You now fall at the very back, behind Campbell.”
“Hey,” said brother mumbled. “I heard that.”
They ignored him.
“Now, I’d like to discuss the real reason for today’s meeting,” Aunt Catherine was saying.
“Hmm,” Linnie remarked, intently watching the countess as she began to speak about the Christmastide festivities. “Here I’d believed betraying one’s friend was the order of the day.”
Arran flinched. “It’s complicated, Linnie.”
“Ah, yes, certainly too complicated for a lady to try to understand.”
“With the Christmastide Season here, we gather as a family, and this year . . .” The countess spoke as regally as a queen to her subjects.
“This year we’ll be joined by Linnie’s betrothed,” Linnie’s mama cried out joyfully. “Isn’t this just wonderful?”
Wait . . . ? Linnie puzzled her brow. “Whose betrothed?”
“Yours, my dear,” Mama said exasperatedly. “Do pay attention.”
Aunt Catherine buried her face in her hands.
“My betrothed?” Linnie squawked. “Is this a joke?” It had to be. Except her mother didn’t make jests.
“Not at all. Lord Culross is a dear man, Linnie-Lou.” Linnie’s mother looked to her brother-in-law for support. “Isn’t that right?”
“Very much so.”
Linnie’s head swam. “Who is Lord Culross?”
Her mother sighed. “The Earl of Culross. Keep up, Linnie. He is a dear friend of Arran’s.”
Linnie whipped her gaze over to Arran.
Lifting his palms, he gave a sheepish shake of his head. “I don’t know anything about marriage or a betrothal.”
Why did she find herself not believing him? “But you do know a Lord Culross.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’d better hope you do not,” she warned and made a slashing motion across her throat.
“She simply cannot marry Lord Culross!” Cassia cried. Linnie quite agreed. “Legend has it each McQuoid-Smith lass will not only find herself married to a great and powerful duke, but she will also discover a grand love to last the ages, such that it will be recorded in books.”
Linnie did not, however, agree for that reason.
Dallin snorted. “Since when did that become a McQuoid-Smith legend?”
Fleur rolled her eyes. “Only since Myrtle became the Duchess of Aragon and Cassia became the future Duchess of Roxburghe.”
Given that all those stupendous events had transpired within the past several years, Linnie didn’t necessarily—or even at all—believe that timing qualified the new lore as legend. But with her female family in full support of her, neither did she intend to contradict a single one of them.
Andromena snickered. “I’m sure the fact our cousins are daughters of an earl—not the children of a mere ‘mister’ like Linnie, Meghan, and I—didn’t hurt them, either.”
Just as Linnie’s inferior station didn’t help.
Lord Winfield and the Duke of Aragon sat up. They spoke, their indignant responses slightly staggered.
“I say—”
“Now, see here—”
The countess reclaimed control. “If we may return to the business at hand.”
As one, every person’s focus slid Linnie’s way.
The business being her . . . For the first time that morning, Linnie sank into her seat and tried to make herself as small as possible.
“We’ve drifted away from the original topic of the Christmastide festivities,” Aunt Catherine said. “Before we return to the matter, I will take a moment to point out we each share similar hopes, aspirations, and goals for Linnie’s state.”
“What state is that, Mother?” Arran called over with such feigned confusion that even Linnie almost believed him.
Aunt Catherine glared at her son.
Linnie’s mother, however, never failed to disappoint. “My Linnie is not married.”
Linnie’s cheeks burnt.
A frosty, blunt query cut through the room. “Has it ever occurred to anyone the lady might not want to be married?”
This time, all eyes went from Linnie to Cassia’s husband, the Marquess of Winfield, as Linnie found herself briefly spared . . . all too briefly.
“Certainly not, dear husband,” Cassia said. “Why, I am closer than anyone with Linnie, and as such, I have heard her no fewer than a thousand times talking about her dreams for a future sweetheart and husband.”
Oh, hell and tarnation.
Linnie forced a laugh. “Cassia.” Smiling, she gave her former best friend a pointed look. “As you recall, those were discussions we had as children years ago.”
“Yes, that is true.” Several creases marred Cassia’s pretty brow. “We did.”
Relief filled her breast.
A flighty but loving Cassia troubled at her lower lip and appeared to search her memory.
Oh, hell.
Her cousin’s eyes brightened. “But I’m sure we had a discussion as recent as this week, did we not?”
Double hell.
Linnie closed her eyes. Please let the leather folds of this sofa open up and suck me in. Anything to avoid this further humiliation.
When she opened her eyes, she found a sea of pitying gazes pointed her way.
The countess clapped her hands. “Now.” Aunt Catherine asserted control of the exchange once again. “I know this family is known for histrionics.”
Collectively, everyone turned to Cassia and Myrtle.
“Hey, now.” Cassia bristled. “Why is everyone looking at us?”
Aside from the obvious reasons, Linnie only did so since that way everyone wasn’t staring at her.
“That was uncalled for,” Myrtle muttered as both sisters came together in shared annoyance.
Cassia directed a special frown at Linnie.
Any other time, cousinly loyalty won out. Alas, with Cassia having outed Linnie before the entire McQuoid-Smith brood, it was every woman for herself.
Aunt Catherine cleared her throat. “We are wandering from the subject, again. At no point has anyone made any mention of a union between Linnie and Lord Culross.”
“Aunt Leslie did,” Linnie’s youngest cousin, Quillon, pointed out.
“That is good,” Cassia said to the countess’s announcement. “As I have heard Lord Culross is shamefully arrogant, overbearing, pompous—”
“Those all mean the same thing, cousin,” Campbell called over.
Cassia stuck her tongue out.
Campbell followed suit.
And, hell, Linnie might just find herself escaping everyone’s attention, after all.
Arran frowned. “I’ll have each of you know I’ve sailed with Culross. He is the best of chaps. I ask you to reserve judgement of the gentleman until you meet him. There isn’t a better fellow out there, on the seas or on land.”
It hit her. My God. Arran had replaced Jeremy with this stranger whom they all secretly wished to marry Linnie off to. Fury snaked through her.
“I believe that is what you once said about Captain Tremaine.” Linnie couldn’t bite her tongue hard enough to keep that condemnation from slipping out.
The room went completely silent—the worst, most damning, unfamiliar, and uncomfortable of all states when it came to the McQuoid-Smiths.
Even the earl ducked out from around his paper to give frowning disapproval at Linnie’s statement.
Her mother’s nervous laugh pierced the tense, protracted quiet. “Linnie, dearest,” her mother chided, “you should not say such things.”
How easily they’d expect Linnie to treat some stranger with deference.
“What is it I’ve said, exactly, Mama?” she rejoined. “I merely—and accurately—pointed out that not so very long ago, Arran’s loyalty belonged to Captain Jeremy.”
From the corner of her eye, she caught the look Cassia and Myrtle exchanged.
A gasp escaped her mother. “Linnie!”
Linnie didn’t let up. “All of us have known him since the nursery, and of a sudden, because of one fight, he’s now our mortal enemy and we’re to just replace him with Arran’s latest seaside venture?”
Beside her, she felt Arran tense.
Linnie’s uncle called over, “It is not our business to know, Linnie-Lou.”
Perhaps the earl’s opinion would have had more strength behind it were he not still busy reading whatever limited gossip there was to be had in his latest edition of The London Times.
They could all rot with their misplaced indignation. “We all know Jeremy is kindhearted—”
“Was,” Arran tersely corrected.
“—and loyal,” Linnie continued like she hadn’t heard him. “Generous of spirit, affable.” Charming. Dashing. “A good, decent man.” For all those reasons and more, the captain would always hold a corner of her heart.
More than a corner . . . that voice in her head all too aptly pointed out.
How easily our family has forgotten Jeremy. And how very much I miss him.
She’d not, however, be swayed. The alliance her family sought to build between Linnie and Lord Culross—all to advance Cousin Arran’s maritime partnership—would be the very greatest betrayal of Jeremy.
Her mother smiled like the matter had been settled to everyone’s satisfaction. “Yes, uh, now that we’ve heard from Linnie . . .”
She gritted her teeth. Now that we’ve heard from Linnie? As in, the one person whose future everyone currently discussed?
“May I suggest,” Mama ventured in her always trilling voice, “we show Lord Culross the same grace and kindness we did Captain Jeremy and welcome the earl into our family?”
“Don’t you mean welcome him as Linnie’s betrothed-to-be?” Cassia drawled.
A chastising chorus went up with the same ease as Christmastide carols among the McQuoid-Smiths.
“Cassia!”
“Cassia!”
“Cassia!”
Linnie whipped her gaze over Cassia’s way.
Her cousin winked.
Linnie managed her first smile since the topic of this particular—and latest—McQuoid-Smith meeting had become clear.
Reinvigorated by that first meaningful show of support from Cassia and her husband, Linnie tipped her head ever so slightly to acknowledge that loyalty.