Page 47 of A Dash of Scot
Austen nodded, looking slightly crestfallen. “Anise talked of nothing but Sir John the entire time we searched for Poppy.”
Dougal grimaced. That must have been painful for his friend, who had most certainly found himself in love with the youngest Featherstone. “Saints, but she doesna realize what an arse he is.”
“She will.” Dougal’s tone alluded to a confidence he didn’t feel. What he was coming to understand in the past few weeks was that he didn’t understand women at all.
“How so?”
Dougal cleared his throat, trying to reason it out himself. Then, he recalled a detail that Austen might not yet know. “The lad’s gone off to France.”
“He has?” Austen turned to face him, little lines of hope creasing the corners of his eyes.
Dougal was glad he could bring his friend some solace here. “Facing criminal charges. It’ll be in the papers tonight, I’m certain.”
Dougal wondered, did the ladies even get a newspaper?
Not that he’d sat with them for days on end, but the times he had, he didn’t recall them reading anything other than books.
“We’ll need to make certain they see it.” Colonel Austen was standing straighter, then suddenly slumped. “It will break her heart.”
Dougal understood his friend’s dilemma. For his own bad news had broken Poppy’s heart. “But ye’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”
“I will. And ye?”
“Unfortunately, Lucia has no’ committed any crimes that I know of, besides wearing a brooch that allegedly contains a lock of my hair I’m no’ certain how she obtained.” Dougal still found that piece of information disturbing.
“Shame and also odd.” Austen grinned.
“Aye, it would make this easier if Lucia had committed a crime, but alas, I do believe she is at the mercy of Campbell and has been compromised, which is no’ her fault. I’ve told Poppy I’m no’ betrothed, and I’ve told her I want to be here with her, but she’s tossed me off at both declarations. I admit they were no’ perhaps the most eloquent.”
“Ye need to speak with her again.”
“Aye.” Dougal’s gaze strayed back toward the window where the three women had sat down, none the wiser that the two men stood outside their window talking about them.
“Alone,” Austen said.
“Aye.” Dougal drew out the word. How the hell was he supposed to do that?
As if reading his thoughts, Austen said, “I will provide a distraction.”
“Will ye now?” Dougal grinned at his friend.
“Aye. And perhaps we’ll also discover a newspaper while we’re about.”
“Two birds, one stone?”
“Something like that.” Colonel Austen left his side and let himself into the cottage, and Dougal watched him approach the ladies through the window.
Not to be left behind, Dougal hurried inside the cottage as well in time to hear Austen say, “Miss Anise, I have yet to try the creamery I saw in the village last night as we passed through. Have ye tried it yet?”
Anise blinked at him, her face a mystery as to what she was thinking. “A creamery?”
“Would ye care to join me? Ye and Lady Cullen?” Austen bowed slightly to the baroness.
“Aye, that would be delightful,” Lady Cullen said, glancing at Poppy, who had not been included in the invitation.
Poppy glanced toward Dougal, her eyes slightly widening as her clever mind put together what was happening.
“Lord Reay asked to take a walk by the seaside, and I think I shall oblige him .” Poppy surprised him by voicing the mistruth. Though she wasn’t wrong, he did want to walk alone with her by the seaside; he just hadn’t been able to ask her yet.
