The Bridegroom Wore Plaid Read Free

aren’t the one being paraded before every title with pockets to let, Cousin.” Genie turned her head to look out the other window. “I appreciate that you’ve abandoned your rose gardens to chaperone Hester and me, but is the duty really so onerous when all you’ll be doing is walking in Lord Balfour’s woods and dancing with his brothers?”
    “Not… onerous, though you know I do not dance.”
    “You did.” That from Julia, the traitor. “When you came out you danced quite often, Gussie.”
    “Nearly a decade ago, when there was no choice but to dance.”
    A little silence fell, while Augusta felt a despair of her own. This was her lot in life now, to kill confidences from her younger cousins, to leave little clouds of awkwardness and disapproval in her conversational wake. But really, for Julia to bring up Augusta’s come-out…
    “Did you fancy Lord Balfour, Genie?” Hester put the question quietly. Because Augusta was sitting beside Genie, she saw the girl’s mouth tighten.
    “Cousin Augusta doesn’t dance,” Genie said. “I do not seek marriage to a stranger sporting a title. I’m sure Lord Balfour is a very amiable gentleman, but I’m not here to become his countess.”
    Her tone consigned all amiable gentlemen to the jungles of darkest Peru.
    “Papa mightn’t agree with you.” Hester’s tone bore no malice. “We’re both for titles, Genie. You’ve heard him lecturing Mama about it incessantly.”
    “Then you marry the Scottish earl.”
    Hester, with characteristic good cheer, appeared to consider the notion. “He’s handsome, if tall.”
    “And substantial,” Julia added. “Don’t forget that. I like his eyes.”
    “Maybe you should marry him, Aunt,” Hester suggested, lips curving. “I hadn’t noticed his eyes.”
    “They’re kind,” Julia said. “I find that very attractive on a man.”
    Oh, for pity’s sake. The man’s eyes were green . A startling, emerald green, probably made more striking by his somewhat dark complexion and the thick fringe of dark lashes around them. They were also tired, those eyes. They had a weariness that contrasted subtly with his flashing white teeth, easy grin, and comfortable manners.
    “The one with brown hair struck me as serious,” Julia said, egging on her charges. “Maybe he’d be a better match for you, Genie. If he’s the spare, he’ll at least have a courtesy title.”
    “Connor has the brown hair,” Hester supplied. “He has the best nose. Gilgallon looks like he laughs more, and I like his blond hair, but his mouth is stubborn. I’d put my money on him as the spare.”
    Lord Balfour’s mouth wasn’t stubborn. Augusta frowned, picturing him grinning as he’d swung up on his horse and patted the beast soundly on the neck. His mouth was wide, the lips a trifle full, and on the left side, he had a dimple that flashed when he smiled. With thick, dark hair ruffled by the breeze, he made an attractive picture.
    Julia untied her bonnet and set it in her lap. “What constitutes a good nose, Hester?”
    “Proud,” Hester said. “Connor has a proud nose, a conqueror’s nose. Not a narrow little whining thing like Richard Comstock-Simms has.”
    “My sister has taken up reading noses,” Genie said, her smile back in place now that impending marriage was no longer the subject. “You can make pots of money predicting men’s futures by assessing their noses.”
    “We already have pots of money,” Hester retorted. “Which is why Lord Balfour will offer for you. I wouldn’t mind having a Scottish brother-in-law, Genie.”
    “Why not a Scottish husband?” Julia asked, deflecting the temper flaring in Genie’s eyes.
    “Because Mama will not allow me to marry until Genie is at least engaged. Besides, Genie has had three Seasons, and I’ve had only one.”
    Augusta let their combination of banter and bickering wash over her, while she considered Ian MacGregor’s nose.
    There was nothing subtle about his nose. Proud