Chapter 6

6

T he dining room at Edward's house had air thicker than the clam chowder served at dinner.

Dougal looked from somber face to somber face—the Featherstone women, the pinched expression that made Mary look as if she had aspirations of becoming a prune. Edward's face was even worse. Looked as if the chap had taken a blow to the ballocks and was still feeling the residual ache.

Colonel Austen sat beside Dougal, the Featherstone ladies across the table from them, and Mary and Edward at their respective head positions. Dougal and Austen had attempted to make good conversation, but Mary seemed bent on either shutting them down or putting a firm damper on anything jovial. She was not pleased that Austen was attending dinner. And not because setting an extra place was hard or because there wasn't enough food. No, she was displeased because she was Mary, and Mary didn't like anything that wasn't her idea.

After his and Austen's initial starts to the conversation, Lady Cullen, too, had tried to engage them all with talks of an opera playing at Covent Garden, but Mary's snipe was so shrill as to practically crack the wine glass she was holding. Subsequently, not a word was uttered.

The clink of silverware on china echoed melancholily in the vast room. Even the footmen, who stood ready with drinks and dishes to be served, looked uncomfortable in the strange atmosphere. One poor chap nearly spilled the chowder on Mary when she made an aggressive hand gesture toward Austen at his talk of a horse race he'd been to last week.

If only Dougal could somehow record Mary's antics for her to see. Surely, she wouldn't want to be depicted in the light in which she currently cast herself. An artist's rendering might show her as a great, snarling beast. A demon who had come crawling from the earth.

Dougal took a sip of his wine and cleared his throat, needing to break the silence, no matter how painful his sister's retaliation was. "The chowder is superb."

Mary swiveled her head in his direction, her pinched visage looking almost surprised now to see him sitting there. What world had she been living in? He wondered, and would even pay money, to see what things went on in his sister's head. If only to better figure out how to behave around her.

"Of course it is. We would only have the best cooking, using the best ingredients."

"A delight to know ye are so lucky." He tried smiling, but Mary bared her teeth at him and then set her spoon down, signaling for the footman to take her bowl, which was probably a good idea, before she threw it at Dougal.

"How was tea?" Dougal tried again in hopes of parting the gloom.

Mary opened her mouth to speak, but Edward's voice cut across the table. "I'm going to my club. Mackay, Colonel Austen, care to join me?"

Dougal practically choked on his tongue. Edward would cut off Mary? That was a new development…

"But we've only been served the first course," Mary said, her figure held so tightly Dougal was worried she might shatter.

"I've not got an appetite, my dear." Edward pushed back his chair, making it clear he had no interest whatsoever in arguing with her and would not have his mind changed.

How shocking.

And as much as he would have loved to escape his sister and enjoy an evening on the town, the last thing that Dougal wanted to do was leave the dining room to go to the club with Edward. They'd never been friends, and considering the three Featherstone women looked as if someone had kicked their puppies, he would much rather get to the bottom of that situation. He did not want to leave them tonight and know they would be unhappy, and at the mercy of Mary's poor temper.

However, Edward stared at him in a way that said he wasn't welcome to stay in his home, and Dougal could practically hear his sister seething. If he dared to look at her, he might see that her steaming ears were causing the wallpaper to bubble. Not wanting to create a scene he might not be able to come back from, he, too, pushed back his chair and stood.

Colonel Austen placed his folded napkin on the table and rose, his eyes on the youngest Featherstone, mirroring the same regret Dougal felt at being dismissed. The way Poppy was staring at him now practically shouted, "Traitor!"

And saints, did he feel that. Alas, there was naught he could do about it. There was always tomorrow; he'd come and call and find out what was going on unless he could needle it out of Edward tonight.

Dougal bowed to the ladies present. "Until we meet again, I bid ye all a good night."

"Thank you, Lord Reay," the Lady Cullen said softly.

Anise smiled weakly, out of character for the normally vibrant lass.

But most disturbing was the coldness in Poppy's eyes as she met his. "Goodnight, my lord."

And then she returned her attention to her chowder, which, though she'd spooned plenty, had yet to be eaten. She swirled the creamy base but did not take a bite.

"Lady Cullen, Miss Featherstone, Miss Anise, I have truly enjoyed making your acquaintance." Colonel Austen bowed, regret etched in the corners of his mouth.

More guilt added to Dougal's shoulders. He knew his friend had been eager to join them and was obviously interested in Anise, which perhaps didn't seem like such a startling occurrence to an outsider, but Dougal knew how much it took for the colonel to open up, especially concerning a woman.

Anise pouted. "Do visit us again, Colonel Austen."

"Yes, do," Lady Cullen agreed.

"We would be delighted to see you again, Colonel." Poppy's tone was at least sincere with Austen, whereas it hadn't been with Dougal.

Edward had already darted out of the dining room, perhaps afraid his wife would grip him in her talons and not let him escape.

Austen and Dougal followed him out front, where the groomsmen had already brought around their horses for them to mount. Edward sat on his, looking as uncomfortable as he had at the table. Dougal wanted to feel bad for him, but he also thought Edward had made his bed and was going to have to sleep in it for the duration of his days on Earth.

As they rode through the city to New Club in St. Andrew's Square, Edward didn't say a word. Dougal and Austen exchanged glances, both at a loss as to what to say to the man. Dougal respected his brother-in-law's obvious need for a ride in quiet, but there was no way he would sit in the club and watch him stew.

They dismounted and entered the dimly lit club, passing their hats and coats to a footman. Dougal nodded to Lorne, Duke of Sutherland, where he was having a drink with his mates, Euan, Alec and Malcolm. Those Scots were fierce in the pugilist ring, and Dougal grinned as he recalled last summer when he'd challenged all four of them on the mat. Bloody hell, but that had been a lot of fun.

Edward led them to a darkened corner, away from most patrons. Either because he didn't want their conversations to be overheard or he felt like being antisocial. Dougal couldn't be sure which, but it didn't matter because the moment they took their seats, each ordering a whisky, Dougal jumped into conversation.

"What the hell is going on, Edward?"

Edward blanched and looked up sharply. "Pardon?"

"The melancholy at dinner was more suited for a funeral than a meal."

Austen squirmed a little in his chair and took a long sip of his whisky, signaling for another.

Edward grimaced. "I don't know what you're referring to."

"I'm no' some idiot ye can lie to, man. Even the carpet knew there was something wrong. And let's face it, ye've never defied Mary before."

Austen coughed, nearly choking on his whisky. "If ye'll excuse me, mates, I need to have a chat with someone." And then he was up and gone, flying away as if the enemy was on his heels.

Edward watched the colonel's back, his cheeks red, the flush creeping from his neck. "Poppy and I had a disagreement."

"One that changed the moods of everyone present?" Besides Mary, of course. Dougal wasn't brave enough to say that, not to the viper's husband, even if he was her brother.

"Aye."

"Care to share?"

"Not really." Edward avoided looking at him, draining his whisky in one long swallow.

"Will ye share?"

Edward tapped his cup for another. Then he scrubbed a hand down his face, looking more tired at that moment than Dougal had ever seen him.

"Fine. I can see you're not going to let this go."

"I'm no'."

"Mary is not pleased with my mother and sisters' presence in the house." The eye roll produced by Edward rivaled Mary's. Perhaps they did deserve each other.

"Ah." Dougal was already aware of that. "And what does Mary wish ye to do about it?"

Edward scoffed. "What she wants and what I'm willing to do are two different things."

Dougal waited as patiently as he could for Edward to continue, but the man seemed to be battling his inner demons, words failing him.

"And, so, what have ye decided then?"

"I've suggested to Poppy, nay, I've told Poppy, that they are to retire to the dowager house in the Highlands that my father left to my mother. They are not going to be destitute on my watch."

The last statement had Dougal wondering if that was what Mary had wished. Saints, but was there no end to her selfish and cruel behavior?

"And did Poppy agree?" Dougal could understand Poppy's desire to argue against her brother's decision. Once they moved to the Highlands, there wouldn't be as much fanfare for Anise's coming out, which he knew from the conversation at the creamery that Anise was looking forward to most. But perhaps Edward would not be so cruel and allow them to remain until the end of the season.

"Of course not, but she's got no choice." Edward chugged his next dram and avoided eye contact.

"Is there more to it than that?"

Edward held his cup up, wriggling it to the server, while Dougal still hadn't finished his first. A better friend he might have told to slow down, but Edward was married to Mary, and she was never an easy person to be associated with. Perhaps it would be easier for him to swallow his sour circumstances if there was a heady sloshing of whisky to dull his senses.

"Poppy believes being consigned to the country before the end of the season is akin to spinsterhood for her and Anise."

Dougal paused. So, Edward was aware of that, and still willing to do it. Quite harsh. "So, the plan is to send them before the end of the season?"

Edward rolled his eyes again. "Not you as well. There's nothing wrong with them going now. Plenty of men in the north who need wives. Plenty of dances to meet them too."

Dougal frowned. It was true that men all over the country married, but for ladies, the place to find a match was during the marriage mart. Sending them to the country would make it ten times harder. Aye, he had been to plenty of country dances, but they weren't as populated nor held as often. In the city, there could be a dozen parties a night. In the country, there were maybe a dozen per season.

Still, the Featherstone lassies were beautiful, charming and talented. If anyone could find a husband, it would be the two of them.

And for some reason, which he didn't want to identify, the idea of Poppy looking for a match made his skin tighten. To think she'd have to try and do so in the Highlands without a proper protector…

"Ye'd send them alone?" Dougal asked.

"The dowager house has staff. They'll hardly be alone." Edward waved away Dougal's concern.

"Where exactly is the dowager house? I dinna recall Mary ever mentioning it."

"Why would she? It's nothing to do with her." Edward scowled and cocked his head, looking at Dougal with great concern. "It's in Skerray. Why are you asking me so many questions?"

Dougal was dumbfounded for a moment. Skerray was near the tip of the highest point of Scotland and only a few hours' walk from his Castle Varrich. He narrowed his eyes, for a moment wondering if this was some trick, but then recalled that the house belonged to Lady Cullen, left to her by her husband as her dower property and that the late Lord Leven had links to that northernmost part of the country had been partly why Mary and Edward were matched in the first place. Mutual invested properties.

"Curiosity. Considering the two younger ladies had different designs on their season when I took them for iced cream earlier today." Dougal shrugged, pretending as if it wasn't any matter to him.

Edward scowled, clearly not believing him. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Now it was Dougal's turn to scowl. He felt as if he were being accused of something, though he couldn't say what.

"Take them out. You're under no obligation to do so. Why did you?"

Dougal could hardly say it was because Mary was a tyrant. As deep as Edward was drowning in his cups, he was liable to punch him in the face if he did. "Why not?"

"Mary thinks you're getting too close." Edward wagged his finger, though the whisky was starting to take effect, and it looked a little more like a wiggle.

Perhaps if he played dumb long enough, Edward would simply pass out. "Too close to what?"

"My sisters."

Dougal shrugged. "I thought I was being polite." It was more than he could say for their brother, who was distancing himself from the family he'd been given charge of.

"Perhaps their well-being is none of your business?" Edward set down his empty whisky cup a little harder than he should have, drawing the attention of a few club members nearby.

Dougal paused a moment, considering. Edward was likely right, except that he did care, and it felt like he might be the only one who did right now.

"Another!" Edward bellowed to the footman, who wasn't moving quickly enough with the crystal decanter.

"Perhaps ye've had enough," Dougal suggested, giving a hand signal for the footman to wait.

Edward leaned forward, perfecting a Mary bearing of the teeth. "Stay out of my business and away from my family."

Dougal set down his whisky and leaned forward. "Ye forget, Edward, that Mary is my family."

The scoff from Edward sounded more like a snort he might choke on. "She's no longer your responsibility."

"Verra true." Dougal stood. "And I can see ye're doing a brilliant job of taking care of your responsibilities."

"A man ought not to judge another man." Edward's words were slurred, and Dougal felt only disgust for his brother-in-law.

He refrained from saying, "I see no man here," and instead said, "A man ought no' to give cause for judgment."

He walked away from Edward, the idiot cursing behind him, and then he found Austen, who was deep in a game of billiards. He wished his friend well and then walked toward the exit, needing fresh air.

He slipped the host a pound note at the front of the club. "Dinna let that one back on his horse." He indicated to where Edward was bellowing for more whisky. "He's liable to break his neck."

"Aye, my lord."

Dougal rode the long way home, still feeling as though he was in the dark. Aye, he understood the melancholy now from dinner. The three ladies were being banished and displaced, their lives and dreams upended. Hardly seemed fair.

Rather than ride to his house, he stopped in front of Edward and Mary's residence. All the windows were lit up, but by now, they would have finished dinner—which he was still starving from having missed.

A lone face appeared in the window of an upper story.

Poppy.

Their eyes met behind the glass. She stared down at him, not bothering to shut the curtains or wave. And then she disappeared. He really ought to leave. Perhaps Edward was right that it was none of his business, but something inside him compelled him to stay. He wanted to help.

Not that there was much he could do. They were Edward's responsibility. They would go to Skerray, and there, they would begin a new life.

But still, their brother was being unnecessarily cruel, and it stank of Mary's vindictiveness. Maybe a talk with his sister might help. But not at this hour. Mary was best in the mornings before she'd had a chance to energize herself by sucking the joy from everyone throughout the entire day.

Dougal started to ride off when the front door of the house opened, and Poppy, wrapped in a shawl, sauntered out toward the gate. She looked ethereal, mysterious and beautiful in the glow of the streetlamps. He couldn't seem to stop staring, nor could he form words.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be at the club with my brother?"

Dougal chuckled. "I'd rather not watch while he drinks himself under. Besides, he was being a bit of a…" How could he put it delicately?

"Arse?" She nodded. "He was that way with me as well."

Dougal wished there were a way he could comfort her. "Ah, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"Nay, 'tis no', but that doesna mean I dinna feel sorry all the same. Ye dinna deserve it."

She shook her head. "I just don't understand. I'm assuming you know now what Edward has decided."

Dougal nodded, his lips turned down. "He told me. I dinna understand why he decided, but I do know my sister is relentless."

"She hates us and is clearly behind Edward's decision. We're just lucky he's letting Mama keep the dower house when Mary wanted him to—" She cut herself off, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth with a deep inhale. Then she let it out slowly. "Sorry, I've said too much."

"I dinna think 'tis hate."

Poppy gave him a look that said, "You obviously are missing a few marbles in the head."

"Mary is never satisfied with Mary. Most of her actions, words and thoughts all stem from deep insecurities. Anything she does to harm ye is only reflected back on her."

"So, you're saying we make her feel less than?" Poppy cocked her head, looking perplexed and thoughtful.

"Aye. Ye are all beautiful, charming women. This was your mother's house years ago. She used to run the household. Likely, some of the servants are still listening to her. And even if that's all in Mary's head, it still lives there, eating away at her."

"That was a lifetime ago for Mama. And Anise and I have never lived in this house. That is silly."

"Still, she feels your mother's mark on it." Dougal shrugged. "Mary was never good at sharing and certainly no' good at having anyone's leavings."

"I think she wants our dowries."

"How so?" He wrinkled his brow.

"If we are not married by a certain age, the dowries revert to the heirs." She lowered her gaze, staring at his horse's hooves. "I shouldn't be telling you all this. And even if the heirs are not in Edward's line since we don't share a father, Mary's scheming to figure out a way, as he's the executor, to charge us rent from those assets."

Dougal's chest tightened, and though he tried hard not to show any outward effect at Mary's games, the vein in his neck throbbed. "I'll not say a word."

"My mother is devasted, and Anise…" Poppy sighed. "She feels as if she's being sentenced to death."

"Social death."

Poppy looked up at him, her expression saying she was surprised he understood. "It is very much like that."

"Edward says the dower house is in Skerray."

Poppy nodded, holding her shawl closer to ward off a brisk wind sweeping the street.

"I dinna think it is as bleak as ye think."

"No?"

Dougal shook his head. "Nay, my lady. I've got a residence nearby myself."

She looked up at him then, surprised, and something stirred in Dougal's chest. Was that a little spark of hope in her eyes?

"I often go there in the off seasons, and the neighbors are all pleasant. There's a village as well for shopping and even a little creamery."

"Truly?"

"Aye. 'Tis no' Edinburgh, but 'tis no' as bleak as ye may think. Though, dinna say anything to Mary about that. Sounds as though she wishes to put ye all into the woods and leave ye there."

"Aye, I think she might if given the chance."

"Dinna give up hope. Your life is going to change, but no' for the worse. Just different."

Poppy smiled. It was a sad curve of her pretty pink lips, but also a little hopeful. "Thank you for telling me." She opened her mouth again, looking as though she might say something else, but a loud tapping on glass interrupted them both.

Dougal looked up at the house and saw his sister knocking against the window on an upper level, her face stern as ever. If she tapped any harder, she might very well shatter the window, raining shards down on them both. How long had she been standing there? Had she heard anything that they'd said? Saints, but he hoped not, or there would be bloody hell to pay.

"The dragon sweeps in," he murmured. "She never played nice as a child. And I'm afraid no' much has changed since then."

Poppy laughed. The sound was a stark difference from how she'd sounded when she first came outside. "I'd best go before she storms out here and incinerates us both."

"Good idea. Though do be careful inside. I'd no' be surprised if she lit ye up once ye closed the door."

Poppy shuddered, and though it was meant to be exaggerated and playful, he sensed a small part of it was real. Not because she was scared of Mary but because anyone dealing with his sister had no other recourse but a physical one to let out the frustration of every encounter.

Dougal watched her retreat, hoping at least he had lightened the bleak outlook she had and ignoring why he wanted to.

Poppy closed the door behind her, but Mary remained in the window, staring at him without moving a muscle.

Bloody hell. He was going to pay for this, he could tell.