Page 27 of A Dash of Scot
“I do apologize for not sending a card,” he said. “I wanted to come and”—
he glanced at Poppy, locking his gaze on hers—“apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused.”
Colonel Austen eyed him oddly, and Sir John too. At least those two had no idea why he was being shunned. Though, honestly, he’d liked to have known himself, and if they were aware, they might all discuss it in the open.
“What inconvenience is that?” Poppy cocked her head as if she dared him to put voice to her ire, the very reason she suddenly despised him.
They’d been making progress, he thought…
Dougal swallowed. He wasn’t normally one to feel nervous in any situation, but heaven help him. Poppy made him feel unsettled, uncontrolled, and out of his depth. “Might I ask for your company on a walk about the garden, Miss Featherstone?” He directed his question at Poppy.
Poppy glanced toward Anise as if seeking confirmation, then back at Dougal. “I’m sorry, I think I’d rather not catch a chill, sir. You’re welcome to join us here or perhaps come calling later this afternoon, after luncheon, though I doubt the chill will be gone. Oh, gracious me, I forgot we won’t be here this afternoon.” She let out a laugh that he saw through for what it was. She mocked him. “And likely neither should you, Lord Reay.” Her steely gaze met his, and there was a turn to her lips that was partly cruel and partly wounded. She was lashing out. “Perhaps your fiancée would much rather you take her for a walk about?”
Dougal’s mouth went dry. It appeared he’d stepped in it twice. Not only was he responsible for them leaving early, but Mary had clearly shared Lucia’s imminent arrival, though she hadn’t shared all of the information—like how he didn’t consider himself to be betrothed. Everything made sense now. Her anger, her hurt, Lady Cullen’s coldness, Anise agreeing she shouldn’t walk with him in the garden. They believed him to be some rogue.
And my God, hadn’t he proven himself to be exactly that?
Still, Dougal pressed on. He wasn’t going to let her go without explaining what the situation was. There were always two sides to every story, and didn’t he deserve a chance to share his? “Might we have a word in confidence?”
Poppy rolled her eyes, and Colonel Austen shifted uncomfortably in his chair while Sir John looked as if he wanted this theatre entertainment to go on for a while longer, perhaps with refreshments brought in.
For as much as she put on a show, Poppy’s curiosity appeared to get the better of her. And he was grateful.
She stood and marched over to him. The gentle sway of her hips was taken over by her irritation. “We can speak in the corner here, but I will not leave this room with you, and under no circumstances will I be alone with you again. It wouldn’t be proper. And I’ll not have any more rumors tossed around society about me.” She trooped toward the corner, beckoning with a flick of her hand for him to follow.
While he would have rather spoken to her privately, he would take whatever he got from Poppy, even the corner of the drawing room with all eyes on them.
She folded her arms across her chest but thankfully did not tap her foot as he might have expected. “What is it that you wish to say, Lord Reay?”
Anger radiated from her in waves, and he felt guilty for so many reasons. The repeated use of his titled name put distance between them, as if erasing the friendship they’d had…the kiss they’d shared. The way he’d wanted her so badly that his insides ached, and then fear had made him run away. Afraid he’d not be able to give her all she deserved.
Dougal cleared his throat, adjusting the cravat that suddenly felt too tight at his neck. “I am no’ betrothed, no’ really.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “And I’m not going to the country, not really. My heart will always remain in Edinburgh.” Sarcasm dripped from her words in streams like the wax of a hundred candles on a single chandelier.
“I’d like to explain if ye’ll allow me.”
She waved her hand, impatient.
“’Twas an adolescent proposal.” There, he’d said it. He breathed out a sigh of relief.
But Poppy’s expression didn’t change. “Did you ask her to marry you?”
“Aye,” he drawled out, not sure where she was going with her questions.
Poppy, too, drawled out her words as if she hoped he’d pick up on whatever she was thinking. “And did she say yes?”
“Aye.” Dougal shook his head. “But we were young.”
Poppy let out a sharp laugh. A quick succession of ha-ha. “I don’t think the age matters much if the two of you have consented to marry.”
“But I do no’ wish to marry her. I’ve never had any intentions of marrying her.” How could he make her understand?
“Sounds as if you have a problem then, Lord Reay. And as much as I thought we were friends, we are not. And I have my own problems, namely the fact that my brother has betrayed me and we are being forced to move to the Highlands in the middle of the season, and I will have to help my sister transition to a desolate life that she doesn’t want. Two spinsters and their widowed mother. It all sounds so trite, and yet it is my new life.”
The bitter ache of her words cut through his solar plexus. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, to tell her that he would not let that happen, that she and Anise were too young and beautiful to be spinsters, that even her mother could find happiness. But he could tell by the way she looked at him that anything he said would go in one ear and be tossed in the trash from the other.
“My lady, please allow me to try and make this right.” He was mucking this up royally.
