Scottish Brides (Gretna Greene) by Julia Quinn

Author:Julia Quinn [Quinn, Julia]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-12-24T00:38:46.185000+00:00

"Yes, on both counts."

"Why are you chasing after her? What did she do?"

"Ran off to London."

"By herself?" Margaret asked, clearly aghast with horror.

Angus looked over at her with a bemused expression. "Might I remind you that you ran off to Scotland by yourself?"

"Well, yes," she sputtered, "but it's entirely different. London is ... London."

"As it happens, she's not entirely by herself. She stole my carriage and three of my best servants, one of whom is a former pugilist, which is the only reason I'm not terrified out of my skull right now."

"But what does she plan to do?"

"Throw herself upon the mercy of my great-aunt." He shrugged. "Anne wants a Season."

"And is there a reason she cannot have one?"

Angus's expression grew stern. "I told her she could have one next year. We have been renovating our home, and I'm far too busy to drop everything and head to London."

"Ah."

His hands went to his hips. "What do you mean, ah?"

She moved her hands in a gesture that was somehow self-deprecating and all-knowing, all at once. "Just that it seems to me that you are putting your needs before hers."

"I am doing no such thing! There is no reason she cannot wait a year. You, yourself, agreed that eighteen-year-olds know nothing."

"You're probably right," she concurred, "but it's different for men and for women."

His face moved a fraction of an inch closer to hers. "Would you care to explain how?"

"I suppose it's true that eighteen-year-old girls know nothing. But eighteen-year-old boys know less than nothing."

To her great surprise, Angus started to laugh, falling back upon the bed and shaking the mattress with his chuckles. "Oh, I should be insulted," he gasped, "but I fear you're right."

"I know I'm right!" she retorted, a smile sneaking across her face.

"Oh, dear Lord," he sighed. "What a night. What a sorry, miserable, wonderful night."

Margaret's head snapped up at his words. What did he mean by that? "Yes, I know," she said-just a touch hesitantly, since she wasn't quite sure what she was agreeing with. "It's a muck. What are we to do?"

"Join forces, I suppose, and look for both of our errant siblings at once. And as for tonight, I can sleep on the floor."

A tension that Margaret hadn't even realized she was carrying slid right out of her. "Thank you," she said with great feeling. "I appreciate your generosity."

He sat up. "And you, my dear Margaret, are going to have to enjoy the life of an actress. At least for a day."

An actress? Didn't they run about half-dressed and take lovers? Margaret caught her breath, feeling her cheeks-and a rather lot of other bits-grow warm. "What do you mean?" she asked, horrified by how breathy she sounded.

"Merely that if you want to eat tonight-and I'm fairly certain there will be more than haggis on the menu, so you may breathe easier in that respect-then you will have to pretend to be Lady Angus Greene."

She frowned.

"And," he added with a roll of his eyes, "you're going to have to pretend that the position is not quite so disagreeable.

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