Page 22 of A Dash of Scot
“Arse?” She nodded. “He was that way with me as well.”
Dougal wished there were a way he could comfort her. “Ah, I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“Nay, ’tis no’, but that doesna mean I dinna feel sorry all the same. Ye dinna deserve it.”
She shook her head. “I just don’t understand. I’m assuming you know now what Edward has decided.”
Dougal nodded, his lips turned down. “He told me. I dinna understand why he decided, but I do know my sister is relentless.”
“She hates us and is clearly behind Edward’s decision. We’re just lucky he’s letting Mama keep the dower house when Mary wanted him to—” She cut herself off, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth with a deep inhale. Then she let it out slowly. “Sorry, I’ve said too much.”
“I dinna think ’tis hate.”
Poppy gave him a look that said, “You obviously are missing a few marbles in the head.”
“Mary is never satisfied with Mary. Most of her actions, words and thoughts all stem from deep insecurities. Anything she does to harm ye is only reflected back on her.”
“So, you’re saying we make her feel less than?” Poppy cocked her head, looking perplexed and thoughtful.
“Aye. Ye are all beautiful, charming women. This was your mother’s house years ago. She used to run the household. Likely, some of the servants are still listening to her. And even if that’s all in Mary’s head, it still lives there, eating away at her.”
“That was a lifetime ago for Mama. And Anise and I have never lived in this house. That is silly.”
“Still, she feels your mother’s mark on it.” Dougal shrugged. “Mary was never good at sharing and certainly no’ good at having anyone’s leavings.”
“I think she wants our dowries.”
“How so?” He wrinkled his brow.
“If we are not married by a certain age, the dowries revert to the heirs.” She lowered her gaze, staring at his horse’s hooves. “I shouldn’t be telling you all this. And even if the heirs are not in Edward’s line since we don’t share a father, Mary’s scheming to figure out a way, as he’s the executor, to charge us rent from those assets.”
Dougal’s chest tightened, and though he tried hard not to show any outward effect at Mary’s games, the vein in his neck throbbed. “I’ll not say a word.”
“My mother is devasted, and Anise…” Poppy sighed. “She feels as if she’s being sentenced to death.”
“Social death.”
Poppy looked up at him, her expression saying she was surprised he understood. “It is very much like that.”
“Edward says the dower house is in Skerray.”
Poppy nodded, holding her shawl closer to ward off a brisk wind sweeping the street.
“I dinna think it is as bleak as ye think.”
“No?”
Dougal shook his head. “Nay, my lady. I’ve got a residence nearby myself.”
She looked up at him then, surprised, and something stirred in Dougal’s chest. Was that a little spark of hope in her eyes?
“I often go there in the off seasons, and the neighbors are all pleasant. There’s a village as well for shopping and even a little creamery.”
“Truly?”
“Aye. ’Tis no’ Edinburgh, but ’tis no’ as bleak as ye may think. Though, dinna say anything to Mary about that. Sounds as though she wishes to put ye all into the woods and leave ye there.”
