Page 44 of A Dash of Scot
“We were in the area.” This was true, and he prayed she didn’t ask how he happened to be in the area at this precise moment and why he wasn’t in Edinburgh, which was several days’ ride away. Happening to be in the area was, in truth, quite preposterous.
“Ah, like Sir John. How coincidental that this remote village in the very far north of Scotland happens to be a place people end up in.” She cocked her head to the side and offered a smile that was anything but friendly. Then she asked an even worse question. “Where is Miss Steventon? Does she happen to also be in Skerray?”
Colonel Austen cleared his throat, clearly feeling secondhand embarrassment on Dougal’s behalf. This was not the first time he’d felt uncomfortable where Dougal and Poppy were concerned. The poor fellow might stop coming on excursions with Dougal if he had to keep witnessing it all. Then again, what were friends for if not to have each other’s back? In the battles of war and life, right?
“She is not, I suspect at home with her father.” Dougal kept his tone neutral, hoping that would be the end of it, but he could immediately tell it wasn’t enough. Saints, but he was mucking this up.
Poppy stuck her nose a little higher in the air. “Oughtn’t a man to know where his betrothed is?”
Dougal shrugged, trying for nonchalant, and then he let the truth out for real this time. “I wouldna know the rules for betrothed men, as I am no’ one myself.”
She rolled her eyes, turned around and marched back toward the cottage. He thought he might have liked it better if she’d told him to fek off.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that, Lord Reay,” Anise said with an expression that said he’d failed miserably.
He nodded, frowning and wishing he’d taken more time to ask his aunt the exact words he should say. “Any advice?”
Anise looked surprised he’d asked, then she licked her lips, going up on her toes and rocking back on her heels, clearly excited. “Poppy needs to feel like she’s important. Not because she thinks she deserves it but because of exactly the opposite. Come along, you two. Mama will be glad for some company. And Lord Reay has his work cut out for him.”
Anise, too, turned and headed back toward the cottage, the two horsemen following behind.
By the time they arrived at the small cottage, handing their reins to a groom, Poppy was nowhere to be found. But Lady Cullen was beside herself with excitement and ushered them into her drawing room, having already asked tea to be prepared for them.
Dougal glanced up at the ceiling as if he might be able to see through it and ascertain where Poppy was hiding. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to come down willingly to speak to him, which was disappointing. How was he to make her feel important if he couldn’t find her?
“I’ve asked for tea, but perhaps you are hungry? Should I have her make some sandwiches? She makes the best little sandwiches. Delicious. We are quite spoiled.”
Anise raised her brows and glanced sideways at her mother as if wondering where that had come from and where the mysterious and delicious sandwiches her mother claimed to have were.
“Nay, my lady, we’re fine,” Dougal said. With them removed to the dower house and having a small income to subsist on, the last thing he was going to do was take their food. “In fact, I’ve brought ye something that will go well with our tea.” He handed her a tin of shortbread biscuits his cook had made for them.
“Oh, you are too kind, Lord Reay. Thank you.” She opened the tin and breathed in, her eyes closing as if she hadn’t smelled something so delicious in a while.
Anise reached over her mother and plucked one out, biting into it and making a sound of enjoyment. “These are to die for. Mama, have one.”
Lady Cullen, too, took a biscuit and delighted in the flavor. Definitely a point in Dougal’s favor. He brought good biscuits. He would remember that and bring a tin of biscuits every time.
There was a pause in the room, Lady Cullen and Anise sitting side by side staring, and Colonel Austen looking as if he were about to break out into poetry while he watched the youngest Featherstone.
Dougal glanced back to the door, hoping Poppy was going to walk through. But the door remained closed, and not a sound in the house, not even a creak, gave a hint of where she was hidden. The faintest whisper of her floral perfume was the only sign that she was in residence. Or had been.
“She won’t be coming back down,” Lady Cullen said, taking note of Dougal’s attention. “Headache. So much dancing last night in town. What a wonderful event it was.”
There was a twinkle in Lady Cullen’s eye that practically said she was lying and hoped he knew it.
15
Poppy stood as still as she could at the top of the stairs, attempting to listen in on the conversation below; however, they weren’t talking loud enough. Rather frustrating for those trying to eavesdrop. The other possibility was that she was losing her hearing and was in need of a listening horn, which she didn’t have on hand and wasn’t likely to find.
Elizabeth came out of Mama’s bedroom, having been in there to tidy. She smiled at Poppy and opened her mouth to address her, but Poppy quickly put her finger to her lips. The last thing she needed was for her snooping to be found out by anyone. The house was small. Small enough that at the base of the twelve stairs was the door to the drawing room, and a few feet inside there was Dougal Mackay. She was well and truly only fifteen feet from him.
And it would be mortifying for anyone to realize she was up here snooping.
Especially Dougal, whom she’d given the cut direct on purpose, hoping he would leave, but like a thistle, he’d stuck himself to her metaphorical skirt and come inside.
Elizabeth scooted around her, down the stairs and out of sight. Fortunately, she didn’t say anything or give Poppy a look that made her feel sillier than she felt already.
My goodness, the way he’d looked at her when he’d stopped his horse so abruptly. As if he were surprised to see her outside of her own home. As if he hadn’t been headed there to see her. And his nonsense about happening to be in the area. There’d been anguish in his gaze when she’d rejected him, and part of her had yearned to stop the hurt.
