Page 7 of A Dash of Scot
It wasn’t charitable of Dougal to ponder his sister and her countenance in this way, but she’d been the same since they were children. She was bossy, selfish and prone to only caring about what other people might think in any given situation, then manipulating that situation to be in her favor and somehow still being mad about it.
Mary was forever a victim in all situations. Even if said situation was of her own making.
Of course, she’d agreed that the Featherstone lasses could live with her and Edward because not agreeing would make her out to be a bad person. Society would have looked down on her for being inhospitable and cold. Uncharitable. She couldn’t have that. But that didn’t mean she was going to make their time in her house pleasant. The opposite, Dougal guessed, so that they would leave on their own, and she could then prattle on about how she’d offered up her home and charity, and they’d not been grateful.
Which was quite sad, given that the Featherstone women were at their lowest. The loss of a parent had devasted his friends; even his own parents had been torn when they lost their mothers and fathers. He was lucky still to have his kicking up their heels, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t empathize. What the Featherstones needed was kindness and distraction. And he aimed to provide that if he could.
Dougal had felt the need to make up for his sister’s behavior throughout their lives. This situation was no different.
As soon as he’d heard that the mourning women had moved in, he’d come down from his country estate in the Highlands to see if he might bring some cheer. Or, at the very least, act as a buffer between his sister and the Featherstones. Lord knew they were going to need it.
“We appreciate it. How long will you be in Edinburgh?” Miss Featherstone asked.
“A week or two,” he drawled out, “Depending on the business I have to attend to.”
“And what business is that?” She shifted, tucking the wool blanket closer to her waist. Her gaze was curious but hedging on unobtrusive from the way she explored the sidewalks next to their moving curricle.
“Family business.” He didn’t expect her to be interested in his business of horse flesh. Most women weren’t. But he also didn’t want to get into the fact that he wasn’t actually in town on business.
“I see.” She pursed her lips, and he sensed she was mildly offended by his lack of explanation.
Damn it. But it wasn’t as if he could say he’d come there deliberately to see her.
“Well, I hope you’re able to find success in your short time here, my lord. I used to help my father with his business, and it was satisfying. I know it’s not really acceptable, but I’ve always had a good mind for maths, and Papa challenged me often with his ledgers.”
Dougal chuckled. “If I ever find myself in a bind on the ledgers, I know who to ask for advice.”
She glanced at him, a small smile on her lips. “You seem successful. I doubt you’ll ever need my help.”
“One never knows.”
“That is true. One never does.” At that, her face fell, and she quickly looked out the window again, and he realized he’d stepped in it, the conversation inadvertently touching on the quickness of her father’s illness and death.
As they entered the park, a lone rider trotted beside them, a welcome distraction. “Ah, my good friend, Colonel Austen. Might I introduce you to Miss Poppy Featherstone and Miss Anise, the late Baron Cullen’s daughters?”
Colonel Austen tipped his hat. “Ladies, you are the sun on this gloomy morning. And may I offer you my condolences on the loss of your father?”
“Thank you,” Anise said, with a bat of her lashes and a subtle blush to her cheeks.
“We appreciate your thoughts,” Poppy added, though she seemed far more subdued than her sister.
“Allow me to be of service should you need it,” Colonel offered.
The two women nodded and practically whispered their thanks; their voices were so low. Dougal felt like his chest might split open.
Colonel Austen’s gaze lingered on the down-turned face of Anise, an interest in his eyes that Dougal hadn’t seen in years. Abruptly, he shook his head and turned his attention to Dougal. “How long are you in town?”
“A couple of weeks. Come by for dinner. I’ll see that Mary adds a place for you at the table. Your company would be much appreciated.”
Colonel Austen, who’d known Mary for as long as he’d known Dougal, given they were boyhood friends, chuckled. “I’d be delighted. How is tonight? I leave for the Highlands tomorrow morning.”
Austen and Dougal had fought together in the military and, prior to that, gone to Oxford together and Eton as lads. The only two Highlanders in their class, they’d had each other’s backs during many a schoolyard fight. English aristocrats, having grown up believing the Scots were rubbish, had no problem pouncing on the two of them when their tutors weren’t looking. And Dougal, as tough and well-built as he was, would have come away with a lot more bruises had it not been for his good friend helping him live to see another day.
“Then we’ll be glad to have you with us before you head out of town.” Dougal certainly would be, and he thought the Featherstones would be too. It meant that Mary would most likely be on her best behavior for the meal, which he wasn’t certain had happened before his arrival.
“And you think that your sister will allow it?” Austen hedged. “There was that time last year that she practically dragged me out by my ear.”
The two sisters looked up sharply, a smile on Poppy’s lips.
