Chapter 9

9

P oppy held herself together until she entered her bedchamber and went through to the dressing room. Then she shut the door, sank to the floor behind a few dresses that had yet to be gathered, and the dam of tears burst.

Long, rushing floods of salty water dripped down her face. She pressed her hands to her mouth, trying to muffle the sobs escaping her throat as her shoulders racked, rattling the wall behind her.

For so long, she'd believed that a life with Dougal was just a flirtation away. That she just needed to prove herself worthy of him somehow. That he'd been called away from London on some important business and if she were just patient enough, he would come back, all apologies.

But a year had gone by with hardly a word about him.

And when he'd arrived in Edinburgh, she'd had even begun to hope once more that they could rekindle the romance they'd started the year before. He was attentive, concerned and flirtatious. They'd seemed to pick up right where they left off. And her heart, which she'd tried to harden against him, had opened up and allowed him to infiltrate her defenses once more.

And now, all of that was dashed. There was another woman, a lady who had already staked her claim. Whom he'd asked to marry him. More fool her.

Mary was cruel, and yet somehow, Dougal's cruelty hurt worse. A fiancée all this time? Every flirtation, the kiss, all of it was a game. Perhaps even a joke he'd laughed about with friends at the club. Though, to be fair to Colonel Austen, she didn't see him behaving in that way.

At least Mary wore her meanness on her sleeve. Dougal kept his locked up tight, a shadow that slithered up behind you and stabbed you in the back.

A soft knock sounded at the dressing room door.

Poppy squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, hoping whoever was on the other side would go away. She didn't ever let anyone see her in a state like this. And she certainly wasn't going to start now. Pulling her handkerchief from her sleeve, she swiped frantically at her tears and her dripping nose. She couldn't remain hidden all day, and she wouldn't let anyone see her looking so ridiculous.

Broken heart or not, she had to stand tall.

"Poppy?" Anise's tone was full of concern. "Sir John and the colonel have gone. They say they'll visit us in the Highlands once we've settled."

Poppy swiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks that refused to cease falling despite her orders. She pushed herself to her feet. At least it was only Anise on the other side of the door. Her sister wasn't one to judge, even if she was a bit headstrong and silly sometimes.

Poppy flung open the door and stared at Anise, daring her to mention that her face was likely blotchy from sobbing, her eyes red and swollen. Her dripping nose making it seem as if her face had become a waterfall.

Anise stared at her, mouth open, not hiding the horror of what she saw. Thankfully, however, she didn't say anything. Just grabbed Poppy, wrapping her in her arms and squeezing her tight. They were close but did not often hug. At first, Poppy stiffened, putting her hands up to push her sister off. But rather than push, she pulled, hugging her just as tight. Needing the feeling of closeness, of being held, more than she'd realized.

Needing to know that someone was on her side. That maybe everything would be all right even if it felt as if her life was an utter disaster.

Even after their father died, they'd hugged but not clung like this.

"Papa is gone, and our lives are changing," Anise whispered, her voice tight with emotion. "Again. But that doesn't mean our lives are over, Poppy. We'll make the best of it. We'll be all right. I promise."

Poppy had said something very similar just last night.

"We will rebuild. We'll be the belles of the Highlands, and Mary can take her snooty self and shove it up her arse."

Poppy laughed, sniffling from her running nose. "And Edward too."

"He's no brother of mine," Anise declared. "Except when I want that dowry."

"If Mary hasn't figured out a way to confiscate it first."

"Ugh, I hate her." Anise pulled back a moment, frowning, her eyes searching Poppy's.

"I hate her too. With a passion that might rival the gods at war."

"Who are we hating?" their mother asked as she breezed into the room and popped the dressing room door open further.

"Oh, Mama, wild guess?" Poppy said, finally letting go of her sister.

"No need to be wild about it. Half of Edinburgh is already talking about her and what she's done, and the other half will be by the end of the day." Mama clucked her tongue as if she'd already had a letter to confirm the information.

"Are they?" Anise asked, rubbing her hands together.

Their mother nodded, waving a handful of notes. "Oh, yes, dear ones. My friends are making sure Mary's actions make the rounds. They said as much in their farewells and promises to visit, along with their cleverly disguised insults to Mary and her vindictiveness."

Anise grabbed their mother's hand and dragged her toward the chaise longue, tugging her down to sit. "Give us one juicy insult, Mama, so we can walk out of the house with our heads held high."

Poppy clicked the lock on their bedroom door so no one could interrupt.

"All right, my dears, I'd be happy to oblige. But not out here. We need the protection of one more door." Mama hurried them into the dressing room and shut that door too. Poppy and Anise waited, breath held. "Lady Sutherland says, ‘I'll be sure to send all of my invitations with the name Featherstone and Cullen to your residence in the Highlands and lament about you not being able to come on account of it being so far and shall wipe the name Leven from my book.'"

"My goodness." Poppy's mouth fell open. "Lady Sutherland is like a queen around here. And she is all but saying Mary will be shunned from society."

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" their mother nodded, her face serious but her eyes dancing.

"One more, Mama?"

"I'll not fill your heads with idle gossip, but do know that most of my correspondence reads like such. And I think we will not want for company in the country, as many have suggested ending their seasons early to come north."

Poppy watched her sister's shoulders sag with relief. And while knowing that at least they weren't being tossed to the ends of the earth for quiet nonexistence, she was still devastated for other reasons.

"What did Dougal have to say?" Anise asked, not pulling any punches.

Poppy shrugged, not wanting to discuss it, still feeling the pain of it all so deeply inside, like a festering wound that would not heal.

"Don't shrug, dear. It's not good for your posture." Mama tapped her shoulders.

Poppy managed to roll her eyes without her mother seeing. "Nothing he can say will change the facts. Nor our departure. He offered to speak to Mary on our behalf to convince her otherwise, but we all know how that would turn out."

"I meant about the engagement. Is it true?" Anise's eyes locked on hers, and Poppy couldn't look away.

"It is true. He claims to have been young and impulsive and that he had no intention of following through on his proposal, and yet here the lady comes from abroad to walk down the aisle. Everyone seemed to know about it but me." Poppy groaned. "I'm such a fool. I should have forgotten about him the moment he left London last year."

"Shame he can't break it off." Anise pursed her lips. "The folly of youth should not have to be paid for. Unless, of course, it's a crime. And I think a youthful proposal is not a crime. And how unfair that it is you being punished for it."

Poppy sighed and shrugged, which got her another tap on the shoulders by her mother. "He won't back out of the proposal as that would be dishonorable, even if his heart is not in it. Dougal is honorable." To a degree .

"To a fault," Anise muttered and shook her head. "He would give up on what you two had for some ancient person in his life?"

"It appears so." Mama stroked a finger over Poppy's arm.

If he were truly an honorable man, he wouldn't have flirted with her—kissed her—when he was already engaged to someone else. Perhaps this forced move was a blessing in disguise. Dougal had broken her heart, but if their relationship had progressed any further, she would have been crushed body and soul to find out that he'd committed himself to another.

Even thinking about it made her lightheaded.

And all of a sudden, escaping to the Highlands felt like the most perfect thing they should do. To get away from the humiliation of thinking herself in love with a man already claimed by another. For escaping a sister-in-law who hated her, and a brother who was indifferent.

"We shall find you both husbands in the Highlands. And for you, Poppy dear, one who is not already engaged," her mother said matter-of-factly. Poppy ignored that her mother implied she'd tried to marry a man already spoken for, for she knew that wasn't what her mother meant. "There are plenty of men in the north—and what they lack, I'm certain my friends will bring around when they visit. I do recall the quaint village there. It's a nice ride or walk from the house. They've even got a milliner on their main street."

"A milliner? Oh, how posh," Anise teased with a little laugh.

Poppy drew in a deep breath and grasped her mother's hands, gaze imploring. "Mama, might we ask that the carriage be prepared earlier so we might leave now? I don't want to be here anymore. And I certainly don't want to see Edward or Mary at the dining table at luncheon."

Anise made a disgusted sound. "The very idea of facing them makes me lose my appetite. I'd rather we get started on our adventure."

"Of course. I'd prefer it as well. I'll have the maids rush to finish up the packing. Seems they are nearly done." She fingered the few dresses left in the closet that needed to be wrapped in tissue.

"Nearly, and I've got a mind to help." Poppy turned around and plucked the other gowns left hanging and took them out to the room onto the bed. "Might as well move this along."

Anise followed suit by taking up the few other personal items they had left about the room and tucking them into a trunk while Mama went off to ask about getting a packed meal.

"Things will be better," Anise said, nodding as if she needed to affirm this for herself as she closed the lid of the trunk and clicked the lock in place.

"Yes. They must be. Anything is better than what we've had to endure here." Poppy hoped they would all find healing in the fresh air because, right now, it felt as if she had an elephant sitting on her chest. "And we'll begin anew."

Anise nodded, moving toward the window to look outside. "The country will be restorative."

"Until winter."

She laughed. "Let's not contemplate snow and ice and misery yet, especially not when the sun is shining today. Besides, sometimes winter can be beautiful too."

"I'll remind you of that when you're shivering before the fire and unable to go for your walks for days at a time."

"I'll probably need the reminder, though right now, the idea of being surrounded by a blanket of white with a hot cup of tea does sound romantic and heavenly."

"Until Mama asks you to get more wood for the fire."

"More wood? Why would I do that?" Anise asked.

"We're not likely to have many servants," Poppy mused. "We've got the house and our tiny incomes."

"I hadn't thought of that. Do you remember what the dower house looks like?" Anise wrinkled her nose, a finger pressed to her chin. "I admit to not having the faintest idea."

Poppy tried to think back to when she'd been a girl and they'd visited it one summer. "I think it's rather small. A couple of bedrooms, two or three. A dining room, a drawing room. Kitchen. Servants' quarters."

"So, if there are only two bedrooms, we shall be sharing again?" Anise plucked a painting from the wall, opened the trunk, and stuffed it inside.

"But we shall have plenty of countryside to explore if that's the case. And what are you doing? Don't you think Mary will inspect this entire room?"

Anise grinned. "Oh, my, I can't wait. Either she'll ride down the road on horseback or send a scathing letter to Mama about our thievery. Either way, I shall have a pretty portrait of Edinburgh Castle to hang over the hearth in the drawing room."

"You're wicked, Anise," Poppy teased.

"Mary likes to kick us when we're down. We've got to be able to pay her back somehow."

"It's true. We do."

Poppy and Anise finished packing their rooms, and then, when it was time to depart, they did so without a backward glance.

The three women climbed into the carriage. No Edward or Mary to wish them well. However, their little boy waved from where he stood beside his governess.

Mama smiled at them inside the carriage. "We'll make it through, my dears. It is the strength of one named Featherstone. Our demeanors may come off light as a feather, but when one gets the heart of it, we are solid as stone."

"But not stony in countenance," Anise added.

"Nor flighty like a feather," Poppy grinned.

"Exactly. We are a conundrum to those who don't understand us, yet they cannot help but admire us." Lady Cullen waved goodbye to no one in particular. "Goodbye, sweet city, for now. This is not the last society has seen or heard from us."

Anise grabbed Poppy's hand. Her fingers were chilled, likely from nerves, just as Poppy's were. They were all making a great show of it. But the truth was, Poppy was scared of what was to come, as much as she was relieved to have the darkness of her sister-in-law's moods behind her.

Poppy grinned at her mother and sister, grateful for their company. They had each other, and that was a treasure in itself. While there was so very much changing in their worlds, at least there were a few things that remained the same.