Typical Men

E ncouraged by the duke's appearance at the breakfast table the next day, Niven assumed the musical recital had given his patron a new lease on life. Color was back in his cheeks and he was breathing more easily.

The Three Trees hadn't yet arrived, so Niven deemed this as good an opportunity as any to seek the duke's permission to court Willow.

Withenshawe opened the conversation. "That was quite a performance you gave last night. I'd say it merits a day off."

Niven felt he merited more than a day off work, but he had to keep his emotions in check. "Playing music comes naturally to me, Yer Grace. I…"

"And the dancing! Marvelous. Never thought I'd see Rowan in a kilt. He'll have a hard time living that down with his cronies."

"Lady Daisy's influence, I think," Niven replied. "A man in love doesna care what his friends think. Yer son enjoyed himself."

"He did, and I believe you're correct. I foresee an engagement. I understand Lady Daisy is your cousin?"

"Aye, my Aunty Maureen eloped wi' Lord Freddie Hawkins who unexpectedly inherited a dukedom."

"Yes. I knew Freddie in passing. Grand chap. And his wife turned out to be a respected duchess, though she wasn't of noble birth."

Emboldened by the tack the conversation was taking, Niven filled his lungs and crossed his fingers. "Aye and history is repeating itself with Kenneth's duchess, Catriona."

His confidence flagged when the duke's indulgent smile fled.

"That's as maybe, young Niven, and I know you're fond of my daughter. For a nobleman to marry a commoner is one thing. Willow would be shunned by society if she married you, and that I cannot permit. So, before you ask, no, you do not have my permission to court her."

Seething, Niven rose abruptly. "I'm nay simply fond o' Lady Willow, I love her and she loves me."

"Love isn't enough, Niven."

He should have simply bowed his way out of the breakfast nook but, instead, he lost his temper. "But yer noble family doesna object to enjoying the healthy profits from sales o' our whisky, though the members o' the King family are just commoners ."

Trembling with anger after hissing the last word, he stormed out, angrily certain he'd burned every last bridge built on years of hard work. He sneered at the duke's sons when they passed him on their way to breakfast.

Willow was on her way to the breakfast nook when Niven emerged. As soon as she saw him scowl at her brothers, she knew her father had rebuffed his overtures.

"I'm too common for ye," he growled.

No longer afraid of being caught in a compromising position, she took hold of his hands. "I can't believe he said that. I know he thinks highly of you."

"Just nay highly enough," he countered.

There was understandable anger in his grip, so she deemed it better to wait until he was thinking more rationally before they started making plans. "We'll find a way to be together," she promised. "Right now, I hear Rowan's voice and I suspect he's carrying on about the way you just looked at him. I'm tired of his harping on."

He held on to her hand when she tried to leave. "I lost my temper with yer Da. Dinna do aught to make it worse."

"I won't," she lied.

A footman unfurled Rowan's napkin after he took his place at the table. "What's up Niven's arse?" he wondered out loud after the scowling Scot hurried by without a greeting. "I thought he'd be happy with the way things went last evening."

"He is," his father replied. "We all are. I slept better than I have for weeks."

"Good to see you at breakfast, Papa," Ash said.

"So, what's wrong with Niven?" Thorne asked.

"He's upset with me. I told he'd never have my permission to court Willow."

Rowan bristled. "The nerve of the fellow. Who does he think he is to even consider such a circumstance?"

His father clenched his jaw. "He's an honest, loyal man I admire very much. He loves your sister. In different circumstances, he'd be the ideal husband for her."

"Well, surely you've made it clear it's not on?" Rowan declared.

"Yes, I'm afraid I hurt his pride, but he's not likely to do anything rash."

Ash shook his head. "But Willow might persuade him otherwise. I'm sure I heard the word elopement whispered yesterday."

Rowan stood abruptly. "I'll have word with my sister about that."

"About what?" Willow asked as she entered the breakfast nook.

Having bumped into Niven in the foyer and been told the bad news, Willow was in a fighting mood. If Rowan thought he was going to lecture her…

"Er…" her older brother replied.

"Sit," she commanded. "I'm tired of your bullying."

"Now, Willow," her father began.

She loved her sire and had never questioned his authority, so it was with great trepidation that she asked, "Papa, is it true that you have refused Niven permission to court me?"

"Yes, my dear, but I think we should discuss this when we're all calmer."

"You mustn't realize that we love each other, otherwise you wouldn't deny me my happiness."

"As I say, we'll discuss this another time. Important news has arrived from Wellington. There's talk of the Berkshire regiment being sent to Canada, so I asked the duke if you boys could be seconded to a regiment slated to fight Napoleon. You might not be thrilled by his choice, but anything's better than Canada, do you not think? There's more glory to be had fighting Napoleon."

Like eager schoolboys promised a treat, the Three Trees all began talking at once. They thanked their papa profusely for saving them from an uncivilized country like Canada. What new regiment had Wellington chosen? When and where were they to report for duty?

Willow gaped at this typical display of male selfishness, lifted her skirts and fled the room. There was nothing for it now but to elope with Niven.