Chapter 14

14

"T hanks for inviting me along," Colonel Austen said as they sat at the breakfast table the following morning after arriving at Castle Varrich.

After traveling for days, subsisting on a few things he'd packed that wouldn't spoil on the road and several tavern meals when they'd stopped to rest the horses, Dougal was ready for a nice home-cooked breakfast. His plate was piled high with eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, beans and thick slices of toast covered in melting butter. Austen's plate looked the same.

"I didna think I was the only one to have something at stake here," Dougal said after swallowing a bite of eggs.

Austen smiled as he dumped three cubes of sugar into his tea. "Ye could tell?"

"Half of Edinburgh could tell," Dougal snorted. "The only reason the other half didna notice is because they are children and were no' in attendance."

Colonel Austen chuckled as he stuffed bacon into his mouth. "All the same, I'm grateful for your hospitality and your cook. My god, I've no' had a meal this good in forever."

"There is nothing like a Highland breakfast. Shall we ride over to the cottage after breakfast?" The cottage, as they'd come to refer to it, housed both the ladies they were very interested in speaking with.

Colonel Austen had developed a soft spot for Anise, which was somewhat surprising given he'd hardened his heart after what had happened to his first fiancée. The poor woman died of what he'd thought had been scarlet fever, but as it turned out, was syphilis—given to her by a rogue of both their acquaintances. A handsome face had duped Austen's fiancée after being plied with a copious amount of whisky. She claimed to have hardly remembered the event, and when she woke in the morning, he was there, and then he was gone. And shortly after, she was ill, but by the time she'd called for a doctor, the disease had weakened her immune system causing her to get another infection causing all sorts of other issues until she…expired.

There one minute, gone the next.

Austen had never recovered. And until Austen had met Anise, Dougal wasn't certain he was going to ever come out of his understandable melancholy.

Colonel Austen shook his head, looking out the window. Dougal could sense he had some apprehension about their morning plans by the way Austen gripped his fork, knuckles turning white.

Austen cleared his throat. "The ladies may have been at the dance hall last night, and we should probably let them sleep a little longer."

Dougal nodded, understanding that this could be the case and that Austen needed a little time to work himself up to the task and the fear that he might be rejected. Anise had seemed to favor the attention of Sir John, which Dougal found not just irritating but infuriating. If only they knew the depravity of that man. Yet, the colonel, his good friend, had begged him years ago not to say anything about Sir John, and so Dougal had thus far kept his mouth shut. However, he swore that if it looked as if Anise was succumbing to Sir John's charms, he'd have no choice but to share what he knew for the young lass's safety.

"Aye," Dougal said. "Sweet Mary used to sleep all day after a dance."

Austen stopped strangling his fork, letting it fall to the side of his plate. "Perhaps a calling card left with the servants before luncheon would be a good idea? Then they can let us know if they would appreciate our dropping by."

My god, but the man was positively losing his edge. Dougal cocked a challenging brow. "Or we stop by mid-afternoon? Bring them biscuits to go with their tea?"

Austen blew out a heavy sigh that lifted the hair from his forehead. "Why is it so hard to figure out?"

"It really is no', my friend."

But the truth was Dougal was nervous too. He was afraid that if he left a calling card, Poppy would put it in the fire. He could picture her scrunching up her nose in distaste when she read his name and launching the card into the flames as if it were a plague coming to ravage.

But on the other hand, if he dropped by unannounced, Poppy might slam the door in his face or instruct her servants to do that. Or not come out of her room as she'd done to Mary during teatime. The woman was unpredictable. It was part of the reason he liked her, this unpredictable behavior and the very intelligent and independent streak she had. One could never guess what they would get with Poppy. Blast it all, this, everything, was all so confounding.

One perfectly clear thing was that Dougal had to convince Poppy that he'd not tried to deceive her on purpose. That he admired her. That Lucia was not in his life, and not because he was not honorable, but the opposite. That he'd never agreed to wed her, and she had come back to torment him. Although, that last part was a little dramatic. He'd leave that out.

But after he got done telling her how he felt and what he wanted, he needed to see if she'd be willing to marry him. And in his mind, that was yet another opportunity for her to slam the door in his face. Saints, but he was fecked.

The odds were not currently in his favor. And if he were in Poppy's delicate silk slippers, he'd likely smash the door on any matrimonial ideas as well and then have him tossed out on his idiotic arse.

"How the hell has Campbell gotten involved in all this?" Colonel Austen asked, rather shockingly out of the blue.

"Campbell?"

"Oh, come on, man, ye're no' the only one with his ear to the ground. I heard he was somehow involved or that he and Lucia had a short betrothal abroad before he broke it off."

Dougal tried to hide his surprise that Austen knew so much. "I forgot ye practice fisticuffs with Malcolm Gordon."

Malcolm Gordon offered his private detective services to his good friends, which Dougal was lucky enough to count himself.

Austen grunted. "To be fair, it was no' as if he just told me. He asked me when I last saw Campbell and how I'd met him, all that nonsense. I put two and two together when he seemed interested in what I knew of Miss Steventon."

"Clever. But the truth is, I have no idea how the hell he's involved, though I do have my suspicions, and they are all less than honorable. I did ask my solicitor and Malcolm to try and find out as much as possible."

"Campbell was always a scrappy fellow. And a good liar."

"Aye. Remember how jealous he was at Eton and Oxford?" Dougal shook his head. "Doubtful that the man will simply admit that he's held a vendetta against me after plotting out his revenge for a decade and with it coming to a head days before my birthday. That would be mad."

Austen speared a sausage. "He did always strike me as being a little mad, though. Never trusted him. No' even with the simplest things."

"Fair enough." Dougal scooped a large bite of egg onto his fork, devouring his breakfast the same way he always had as a youthful lad full of energy and afraid his schoolmates might come along and take his portion. "I didna either. And I still dinna, and I have no idea what the bloody hell is going on."

"I've made a decision."

"Aye?"

"We'll drop in this afternoon. And after breakfast, we're going to do manly things that make us feel better." Austen said this with a chuckle that Dougal matched.

They spent the morning hunting and riding, and by the time they'd scarfed down a luncheon of sandwiches, Dougal's skin was practically itching to get to the cottage and spill his guts to Poppy. Beg for her on his knees if he must.

"Let's go," Colonel suggested. "Ye're driving me batty with your hand clenching, and your pacing."

"Aye, likewise. Let's get it over with before both of us lose our minds. I will at least know I have no chance and put myself out of my quandary and misery."

"And I shall find out whether that rogue Sir John has made a fool of me and a victim of another woman I care about." There was a heaviness to both their statements that they tried to hide with jovial laughter.

The ride to the small dower cottage was pleasant enough, though Dougal barely noticed, as he practiced what he would say over and over again to Poppy when he knocked on her door. He tried a few lines on Austen, who told him he was well and truly fecked if he didn't get it right.

They had just emerged from a bend in the road with the cottage ahead when a bonneted twosome came into view.

It took Dougal a moment to register who was in front of him, though Colonel Austen thankfully had more sense and urged his horse to stop, and Dougal's horse did the same.

Poppy and Anise.

They were smiling and laughing about something, both practically glowing in the Highland air. He couldn't help but see that Poppy belonged here—that she looked healthier here in the Highlands than the city. Yet when Poppy's gaze met his, there was an infinite sadness that hit him in the gut as though she had taken an axe to his midsection.

She might have looked happy and healthy, but what that look told him was that she was still mad as hell.

"Ladies," Colonel Austen said, sweeping off his hat. "What a fortuitous moment for us to have come upon ye like this."

"Colonel?" Anise said, her mouth forming an adorable O of astonishment. "Why, what are you doing so far from the city?" She smiled, but Dougal couldn't help but also sense some distance in her greeting.

Sir John had to be in town. Dougal glanced at Poppy as if to confirm, but her mouth was set in a straight, formidable line. Her expression told him she was not going to give him an inch. For the briefest second, he thought about turning around and going home. Returning to Edinburgh. If he were a lesser man, he might have bowed his head in defeat. But he also knew Edinburgh brought Lucia Steventon and a future far bleaker than getting kicked in the ballocks by Poppy Featherstone. He hadn't set out on this journey thinking it was going to be easy. And in the end if she rejected him, at least he'd given his best effort.

Poppy, even angry and glowering, was the most gorgeous creature Dougal had ever seen. And he longed to see her smile, to see her laughing, to have her give him a witty retort that would keep them bantering for hours.

"Lord Reay." Her voice was as cool as her gaze, and her body language was not at all welcoming. Her rigid spine told him to run the hell away. "What are you doing here?" she asked bluntly.

Honesty—that was what his aunt had said he should use, and it was all that Poppy deserved, so he was honest if not forthcoming. "We came to pay a call."

She wasn't moved. "Why?"

Now, this time, his tongue stiffened. What could he say? He wanted to be honest, but the truth was perhaps too much to toss at her. His truth was something that should probably be eased onto her. A slow reveal. Lord, but he really ought to have planned this better.

"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.