Page 43 of A Dash of Scot
“Oh, come on, man, ye’re no’ the only one with his ear to the ground. I heard he was somehow involved or that he and Lucia had a short betrothal abroad before he broke it off.”
Dougal tried to hide his surprise that Austen knew so much. “I forgot ye practice fisticuffs with Malcolm Gordon.”
Malcolm Gordon offered his private detective services to his good friends, which Dougal was lucky enough to count himself.
Austen grunted. “To be fair, it was no’ as if he just told me. He asked me when I last saw Campbell and how I’d met him, all that nonsense. I put two and two together when he seemed interested in what I knew of Miss Steventon.”
“Clever. But the truth is, I have no idea how the hell he’s involved, though I do have my suspicions, and they are all less than honorable. I did ask my solicitor and Malcolm to try and find out as much as possible.”
“Campbell was always a scrappy fellow. And a good liar.”
“Aye. Remember how jealous he was at Eton and Oxford?” Dougal shook his head. “Doubtful that the man will simply admit that he’s held a vendetta against me after plotting out his revenge for a decade and with it coming to a head days before my birthday. That would be mad.”
Austen speared a sausage. “He did always strike me as being a little mad, though. Never trusted him. No’ even with the simplest things.”
“Fair enough.” Dougal scooped a large bite of egg onto his fork, devouring his breakfast the same way he always had as a youthful lad full of energy and afraid his schoolmates might come along and take his portion. “I didna either. And I still dinna, and I have no idea what the bloody hell is going on.”
“I’ve made a decision.”
“Aye?”
“We’ll drop in this afternoon. And after breakfast, we’re going to do manly things that make us feel better.” Austen said this with a chuckle that Dougal matched.
They spent the morning hunting and riding, and by the time they’d scarfed down a luncheon of sandwiches, Dougal’s skin was practically itching to get to the cottage and spill his guts to Poppy. Beg for her on his knees if he must.
“Let’s go,” Colonel suggested. “Ye’re driving me batty with your hand clenching, and your pacing.”
“Aye, likewise. Let’s get it over with before both of us lose our minds. I will at least know I have no chance and put myself out of my quandary and misery.”
“And I shall find out whether that rogue Sir John has made a fool of me and a victim of another woman I care about.” There was a heaviness to both their statements that they tried to hide with jovial laughter.
The ride to the small dower cottage was pleasant enough, though Dougal barely noticed, as he practiced what he would say over and over again to Poppy when he knocked on her door. He tried a few lines on Austen, who told him he was well and truly fecked if he didn’t get it right.
They had just emerged from a bend in the road with the cottage ahead when a bonneted twosome came into view.
It took Dougal a moment to register who was in front of him, though Colonel Austen thankfully had more sense and urged his horse to stop, and Dougal’s horse did the same.
Poppy and Anise.
They were smiling and laughing about something, both practically glowing in the Highland air. He couldn’t help but see that Poppy belonged here—that she looked healthier here in the Highlands than the city. Yet when Poppy’s gaze met his, there was an infinite sadness that hit him in the gut as though she had taken an axe to his midsection.
She might have looked happy and healthy, but what that look told him was that she was still mad as hell.
“Ladies,” Colonel Austen said, sweeping off his hat. “What a fortuitous moment for us to have come upon ye like this.”
“Colonel?” Anise said, her mouth forming an adorable O of astonishment. “Why, what are you doing so far from the city?” She smiled, but Dougal couldn’t help but also sense some distance in her greeting.
Sir John had to be in town. Dougal glanced at Poppy as if to confirm, but her mouth was set in a straight, formidable line. Her expression told him she was not going to give him an inch. For the briefest second, he thought about turning around and going home. Returning to Edinburgh. If he were a lesser man, he might have bowed his head in defeat. But he also knew Edinburgh brought Lucia Steventon and a future far bleaker than getting kicked in the ballocks by Poppy Featherstone. He hadn’t set out on this journey thinking it was going to be easy. And in the end if she rejected him, at least he’d given his best effort.
Poppy, even angry and glowering, was the most gorgeous creature Dougal had ever seen. And he longed to see her smile, to see her laughing, to have her give him a witty retort that would keep them bantering for hours.
“Lord Reay.” Her voice was as cool as her gaze, and her body language was not at all welcoming. Her rigid spine told him to run the hell away. “What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly.
Honesty—that was what his aunt had said he should use, and it was all that Poppy deserved, so he was honest if not forthcoming. “We came to pay a call.”
She wasn’t moved. “Why?”
Now, this time, his tongue stiffened. What could he say? He wanted to be honest, but the truth was perhaps too much to toss at her. His truth was something that should probably be eased onto her. A slow reveal. Lord, but he really ought to have planned this better.
