Page 21 of A Dash of Scot
“Do what?” Now it was Dougal’s turn to scowl. He felt as if he were being accused of something, though he couldn’t say what.
“Take them out. You’re under no obligation to do so. Why did you?”
Dougal could hardly say it was because Mary was a tyrant. As deep as Edward was drowning in his cups, he was liable to punch him in the face if he did. “Why not?”
“Mary thinks you’re getting too close.” Edward wagged his finger, though the whisky was starting to take effect, and it looked a little more like a wiggle.
Perhaps if he played dumb long enough, Edward would simply pass out. “Too close to what?”
“My sisters.”
Dougal shrugged. “I thought I was being polite.” It was more than he could say for their brother, who was distancing himself from the family he’d been given charge of.
“Perhaps their well-being is none of your business?” Edward set down his empty whisky cup a little harder than he should have, drawing the attention of a few club members nearby.
Dougal paused a moment, considering. Edward was likely right, except that he did care, and it felt like he might be the only one who did right now.
“Another!” Edward bellowed to the footman, who wasn’t moving quickly enough with the crystal decanter.
“Perhaps ye’ve had enough,” Dougal suggested, giving a hand signal for the footman to wait.
Edward leaned forward, perfecting a Mary bearing of the teeth. “Stay out of my business and away from my family.”
Dougal set down his whisky and leaned forward. “Ye forget, Edward, that Mary is my family.”
The scoff from Edward sounded more like a snort he might choke on. “She’s no longer your responsibility.”
“Verra true.” Dougal stood. “And I can see ye’re doing a brilliant job of taking care of your responsibilities.”
“A man ought not to judge another man.” Edward’s words were slurred, and Dougal felt only disgust for his brother-in-law.
He refrained from saying, “I see no man here,” and instead said, “A man ought no’ to give cause for judgment.”
He walked away from Edward, the idiot cursing behind him, and then he found Austen, who was deep in a game of billiards. He wished his friend well and then walked toward the exit, needing fresh air.
He slipped the host a pound note at the front of the club. “Dinna let that one back on his horse.” He indicated to where Edward was bellowing for more whisky. “He’s liable to break his neck.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Dougal rode the long way home, still feeling as though he was in the dark. Aye, he understood the melancholy now from dinner. The three ladies were being banished and displaced, their lives and dreams upended. Hardly seemed fair.
Rather than ride to his house, he stopped in front of Edward and Mary’s residence. All the windows were lit up, but by now, they would have finished dinner—which he was still starving from having missed.
A lone face appeared in the window of an upper story.
Poppy.
Their eyes met behind the glass. She stared down at him, not bothering to shut the curtains or wave. And then she disappeared. He really ought to leave. Perhaps Edward was right that it was none of his business, but something inside him compelled him to stay. He wanted to help.
Not that there was much he could do. They were Edward’s responsibility. They would go to Skerray, and there, they would begin a new life.
But still, their brother was being unnecessarily cruel, and it stank of Mary’s vindictiveness. Maybe a talk with his sister might help. But not at this hour. Mary was best in the mornings before she’d had a chance to energize herself by sucking the joy from everyone throughout the entire day.
Dougal started to ride off when the front door of the house opened, and Poppy, wrapped in a shawl, sauntered out toward the gate. She looked ethereal, mysterious and beautiful in the glow of the streetlamps. He couldn’t seem to stop staring, nor could he form words.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be at the club with my brother?”
Dougal chuckled. “I’d rather not watch while he drinks himself under. Besides, he was being a bit of a…” How could he put it delicately?
