The Man She Should Have Married

Panic was prickling beneath her ribs.

She didn’t feel like celebrating.

But she was a guest, and she could almost hear her mother’s smooth, polished voice telling her that a guest should always be ‘pleasant and accommodating.’ Tilting her glass, she let Tom refill it with champagne, his undisguised happiness making her smile properly.

‘Tom, you look magnificent. You know, being an Elgin, I shouldn’t really admit this, but the Drummond tartan has always been one of my favourites.’

It was true. The red and green weave was so gutsy and vibrant, so defiantly and unapologetically proud of its clan roots.

In contrast, the Elgin tartan of brown and cream seemed inhibited—timid, almost.

But perhaps, like dogs and their owners, a tartan reflected the character of the person wearing it. Farlan would certainly think so, she thought dully.

Obviously pleased, Tom gave a mock bow. ‘It is a fine tartan, and it looks particularly attractive on my beautiful wife.’

Tom pulled Diane closer, planting a kiss on her lips as he did so.

Such easy, open displays of affection were rare in this house. In fact, Nia couldn’t remember the last time anyone had held her close or kissed her.

She felt her face start to tingle.

That was a lie.

She could remember exactly when she had been held, and how she had been kissed. More importantly, she could remember who had been doing the holding and the kissing.

Only she couldn’t think about that now.

It would hurt too much to have the past and the present in the same headspace, and so, pushing the memory back into the darkest, most remote corner of her brain, she said quickly, ‘I agree. You look amazing, Diane.’

Diane laughed. ‘I do feel rather regal.’ Her face softened. ‘But you, my dear, are quite, quite lovely.’

Glancing down at her sleek one-shouldered black dress, Nia felt a blush creep up over her skin.

Compliments were also in scarce supply in her daily life.

She knew that she was a good boss, and her staff liked her, but it was her job to offer praise and encouragement, not theirs.

And although her parents loved her, they both had that tendency common in the spoiled and wealthy to expect perfection and focus on the tiniest of flaws.

Without any siblings to divert their focus, being Lady Antonia Elgin was both a privilege and a burden. It had been lovely growing up surrounded by Old Masters, and being able to ride across the estate on her pony, but there were so many expectations and responsibilities to shoulder.

She felt her throat tighten. It was only after she’d met Farlan that it had involved making sacrifices too. He was the one person who had made her feel she was special, and she had let him go. Actually, she had pushed him away.

The glass felt suddenly slippery in her hand, and she tightened her grip. ‘Thank you, I haven’t got dressed up in a while so it’s a real treat.’

Basically, her social life consisted of an occasional lunch with girlfriends and those events in the social calendar that were absolutely unavoidable.

‘Well, it was worth the wait,’ Diane said gently. ‘And what a beautiful brooch.’ She stared admiringly at the striking thistle-shaped diamond and amethyst brooch that was holding Nia’s sash in place. ‘Is it a family heirloom?’

Nia nodded. It was one of the few pieces she hadn’t been forced to sell.

‘It was my great-grandmother’s. My mother gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday.’

Once upon a time her beauty had pleased her mother. Now, though, her delicate features and soft brown eyes seemed mostly to remind the Countess of Brechin of her daughter’s failure to find a suitable husband.

Diane sighed. ‘It’s perfect. You’re perfect—’ She glanced over Nia’s shoulder, her eyes lighting up. ‘Don’t you think so, Farlan?’

Nia felt her whole body turn to stone. The familiar details of the drawing room spun around her as if she were on a fairground ride.