Page 23 of A Dash of Scot
“Aye, I think she might if given the chance.”
“Dinna give up hope. Your life is going to change, but no’ for the worse. Just different.”
Poppy smiled. It was a sad curve of her pretty pink lips, but also a little hopeful. “Thank you for telling me.” She opened her mouth again, looking as though she might say something else, but a loud tapping on glass interrupted them both.
Dougal looked up at the house and saw his sister knocking against the window on an upper level, her face stern as ever. If she tapped any harder, she might very well shatter the window, raining shards down on them both. How long had she been standing there? Had she heard anything that they’d said? Saints, but he hoped not, or there would be bloody hell to pay.
“The dragon sweeps in,” he murmured. “She never played nice as a child. And I’m afraid no’ much has changed since then.”
Poppy laughed. The sound was a stark difference from how she’d sounded when she first came outside. “I’d best go before she storms out here and incinerates us both.”
“Good idea. Though do be careful inside. I’d no’ be surprised if she lit ye up once ye closed the door.”
Poppy shuddered, and though it was meant to be exaggerated and playful, he sensed a small part of it was real. Not because she was scared of Mary but because anyone dealing with his sister had no other recourse but a physical one to let out the frustration of every encounter.
Dougal watched her retreat, hoping at least he had lightened the bleak outlook she had and ignoring why he wanted to.
Poppy closed the door behind her, but Mary remained in the window, staring at him without moving a muscle.
Bloody hell. He was going to pay for this, he could tell.
7
As soon as the door closed behind Poppy, Mary marched across the foyer floor, heels clicking against the marble in ominous tap-tap-tap-taps. Her steps were so loud and hard that Poppy wouldn’t have been surprised if her sister-in-law’s heels left impressions in the hard stone, little divots as reminders of her ire.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mary’s tone was full of bitter accusations.
Poppy closed her eyes, drawing in a breath, trying to find her center so that when she turned around, she could look halfway pleasant rather than as put out as she felt.
“Poppy Featherstone, I’m speaking to you.”
Oh, angels above, please help me have patience. Poppy turned around, a smile forced onto her mouth. “A word with a friend.”
“Friend?” Mary’s pinched features looked ready to crack, and she rocked back on her heels as if Poppy’s very words had pushed her off balance. “Dougal is no friend of yours. He’s my brother.”
“And you are my sister-in-law. Married to my brother. Stands to reason we are all close, does it not?” So close, Poppy could feel the singe of Mary’s fire.
“Stay away from Dougal.” Mary straightened, the anger in her features changing to a smug satisfaction. “He’s attached. No use wasting your time there.”
Attached? Mary might as well have kicked her shoe right into Poppy’s face. But years of dealing with her sister-in-law and the ton had taught her to hide her feelings properly. Poppy didn’t even flinch; the surprise of that revelation only affected her on the inside. Dougal was attached. Was that why he’d left town so abruptly last season?
Then why had he kissed her? Anger started to diffuse the surprise. He’d…used her.
“That’s right,” Mary continued as if Poppy had reacted and asked for confirmation. “Lucia Steventon. They’ve been betrothed for several years.”
Several? So, not last season? How was it that the engagement had never been announced? Poppy felt her face drain of color, the blood from her head quickly whizzing down her other limbs.
“Lucia’s been abroad,” Mary continued, digging the knife in deeper, the smirk on her face saying she knew how much she was hurting Poppy with every word. “Her father was an attaché in Spain. Their wedding is sure to come before the end of the season.”
Poppy managed a smile feeling as brittle as the porcelain she hadn’t taken her tea in, and kept her voice light as she replied, “How lovely.”
It was absolutely imperative that she not let Mary know how much this news crushed her. Though considering her current light-headedness and obvious pallor, she was certain her sister-in-law already knew.
When Dougal had shared that he had a house near the dower cottage in the Highlands, it felt as if he’d let her know there was a chance they might be together, or at the very least that she wouldn’t be alone. That she, her sister and mother would have the company of a good friend.
But an engagement meant something different. It meant not just Dougal as a neighbor but his wife. Lucia Steventon, whom Poppy had never heard of nor seen before. Poppy’s heart cracked behind her ribs, and her lungs burned for the need to suck in air. The longer she stood here, the more likely she wouldn’t be able to escape.
“It is very lovely. Lucia is a wonderful lady and quite accomplished.” Mary continued blathering on as if she wanted to add rusted edges to the metaphorical knife she’d stabbed through Poppy’s heart.
