School For Heiresses 3- Beware A Scot's Revenge Read Free

any of them.” She’d promised her mother never to marry any man who didn’t rouse her senses, whatever that meant. When Mama had elicited the promise, she hadn’t said it was because of Papa, butVenetia often wondered…
    “So have you any particular men in mind?” her aunt asked.
    She blew out a long breath. “No, but I hope to find someone inScotland , away from the fortune hunters and dull-witted English lords. I want a Scottish laird with a venerable old name, who lives and breathes theHighlands —”
    “Like the fellows in those ballads you love to collect, I suppose.”
    Her aunt’s contempt was plain. “Why not?”Venetia said defensively. “Why shouldn’t I have a Duncan Graeme or a Highland Laddie who’ll carry me off to his manor in theHighlands to live in connubial bliss?”
    “Because you’re about as Scottish as the Queen of England, my dear.”
    “That’s not true!” she said, thoroughly insulted.
    “You’ve got too many fine manners and too much English deportment for a country that thinks a good evening’s entertainment is a jar of whisky and a rough brawl. You wouldn’t last one day with a ‘Highland Laddie’ before you wanted to hit him over the head with the jar.”
    That might be the case, but she didn’t feel any more comfortable inEngland . When she lost her temper, people called her “that Scottish termagant.” Too much reserve, and they said she was a “haughty Scot.”
    And when Papa fell into his heavy brogue, she always had to interpret it for others. As if he were foreign, for pity’s sake!
    Then there was the insidiouly superior manner of the English toward their “lesser” Scottish subjects, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html which even Aunt Maggie had adopted after her years married to an Englishman. She scowled at her aunt, who didn’t even notice.
    “You’re certainly wearing the right costume for catching your ballad hero husband.” Aunt Maggie lifted her white silk mask to surveyVenetia ’s gown of simple worsted. “Highlanders practically worship Flora MacDonald.”
    “As well they should. She saved Bonnie Prince Charlie.”
    “Yes, yes, but it’s a pity she had to dress like a farmer’s daughter.”
    “She was a farmer’s daughter.”Venetia adjusted her own silk mask. “And I had quite a difficult time finding the right gown, so don’t make fun.” Fortunately she and Flora both had black hair and fair skin, so they resembled each other.
    “At least the color is good. You look well in burgundy.”
    “So do you.”Venetia bit back a smile. “Who are you supposed to be again?”
    “Don’t be impertinent. You should be glad I bothered to wear a mask. If not for that old fool, the colonel, twisting my arm, I wouldn’t even be here.”
    Colonel Hugh Seton was one of the hosts of the ball and, unlessVenetia missed her guess, quite enamored of Aunt Maggie, given how he’d tracked them down at their inn after their arrival. “He’s rather forceful, isn’t he?”
    “Forceful?” Her aunt snorted. “He’s mad. Why would the Celtic Society put a blustery cavalry officer in charge of a ball? Heaven only knows what nightmare of bad taste awaits us—he probably had them perch saddles on the chairs.” She scowled atVenetia , who was laughing. “What, pray tell, is so amusing?”
    “You!”Venetia choked out between peals of laughter. “I thought you liked him, given how you chatted about my old school yesterday. You told him his daughter is lovely.”
    “She is, but it’s no thanks to him. Charlotte Harris is responsible for that .” Aunt Maggie shook her head. “The fellow patted my bottom as we were leaving, for heaven’s sake!” The color in her cheeks showed she wasn’t as affronted as she pretended. “He illustrates perfectly what I mean about Highland Laddies. The impudent devil acts as if he’s his daughter’s age—”
    Her aunt broke off as they reached the top, then whispered to