Chapter 7

7

A s soon as the door closed behind Poppy, Mary marched across the foyer floor, heels clicking against the marble in ominous tap-tap-tap-taps . Her steps were so loud and hard that Poppy wouldn't have been surprised if her sister-in-law's heels left impressions in the hard stone, little divots as reminders of her ire.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mary's tone was full of bitter accusations.

Poppy closed her eyes, drawing in a breath, trying to find her center so that when she turned around, she could look halfway pleasant rather than as put out as she felt.

"Poppy Featherstone, I'm speaking to you."

Oh, angels above, please help me have patience. Poppy turned around, a smile forced onto her mouth. "A word with a friend."

"Friend?" Mary's pinched features looked ready to crack, and she rocked back on her heels as if Poppy's very words had pushed her off balance. "Dougal is no friend of yours. He's my brother."

"And you are my sister-in-law. Married to my brother. Stands to reason we are all close, does it not?" So close, Poppy could feel the singe of Mary's fire.

"Stay away from Dougal." Mary straightened, the anger in her features changing to a smug satisfaction. "He's attached. No use wasting your time there."

Attached? Mary might as well have kicked her shoe right into Poppy's face. But years of dealing with her sister-in-law and the ton had taught her to hide her feelings properly. Poppy didn't even flinch; the surprise of that revelation only affected her on the inside. Dougal was attached . Was that why he'd left town so abruptly last season?

Then why had he kissed her? Anger started to diffuse the surprise. He'd…used her.

"That's right," Mary continued as if Poppy had reacted and asked for confirmation. "Lucia Steventon. They've been betrothed for several years."

Several? So, not last season? How was it that the engagement had never been announced? Poppy felt her face drain of color, the blood from her head quickly whizzing down her other limbs.

"Lucia's been abroad," Mary continued, digging the knife in deeper, the smirk on her face saying she knew how much she was hurting Poppy with every word. "Her father was an attaché in Spain. Their wedding is sure to come before the end of the season."

Poppy managed a smile feeling as brittle as the porcelain she hadn't taken her tea in, and kept her voice light as she replied, "How lovely."

It was absolutely imperative that she not let Mary know how much this news crushed her. Though considering her current light-headedness and obvious pallor, she was certain her sister-in-law already knew.

When Dougal had shared that he had a house near the dower cottage in the Highlands, it felt as if he'd let her know there was a chance they might be together, or at the very least that she wouldn't be alone. That she, her sister and mother would have the company of a good friend.

But an engagement meant something different. It meant not just Dougal as a neighbor but his wife. Lucia Steventon, whom Poppy had never heard of nor seen before. Poppy's heart cracked behind her ribs, and her lungs burned for the need to suck in air. The longer she stood here, the more likely she wouldn't be able to escape.

"It is very lovely. Lucia is a wonderful lady and quite accomplished." Mary continued blathering on as if she wanted to add rusted edges to the metaphorical knife she'd stabbed through Poppy's heart.

Poppy nodded, her smile now as frozen in place as her locked knees. "I'd be delighted to meet her, but as it turns out, I'll be away in the Highlands. Shame."

Mary smiled now, well pleased. Everything she wanted was coming true with absolutely no reason why. She was getting rid of the Featherstones and really sticking it to them. As if Poppy, Anise and their mother had offended Mary somehow, when all they'd ever been was kind. "That's right, you're leaving in the morning, aren't you?"

"Quite right." That was not right at all. Her brother hadn't given her an exact departure before, only that it would need to be soon and before the end of the season. She'd thought they might have a week to prepare, but now it appeared the time had been set for her by Mary. And considerably moved up. That was hardly…

"Shame, I was hoping to have another dinner with Colonel Austen. He seemed keen on Anise." Mary shrugged. "Oh well, perhaps when you all visit sometime next year."

Banished for at least a year from this house. Poppy swallowed back her anger and tears, which were clawing their way up her throat, begging to be hollered out.

"Perhaps," she said, though it came out sounding rather strangled.

"Good night, Poppy," Mary said her name like a sneer as if the two syllables were meant to sting.

Poppy didn't respond but gave Mary her back. There was no reason for her to be cordial to the woman now. Not when she'd practically tossed them on their arses into the streets. There were so many things Poppy wanted to say, none of them good. And she knew it was best to walk away before she said something she regretted.

"I said, ‘ Good night , Poppy.'" Mary's pitch increased, the disrespect one of the only weapons Poppy ever had to wield. Mary couldn't handle not being treated exactly as she should be.

Poppy continued up the stairs, pretending she hadn't heard her.

"Poppy!" The shriek was so loud Poppy swore the windows rattled.

Still, she ignored the wench and turned around the corner of the corridor at the top, out of sight. She'd not made it six inches out view before she sucked in a massive gulp of air. Mary threw an epic tantrum in the foyer, screaming for Edward before realizing he was not in residence. A few doors from the servant's quarters sounded, and then rushing footsteps. Likely the poor servants believed there was an emergency. Poor things, having to deal with Mary.

Poppy made it to her room at the same time Anise flung open their door, and their mother across the hallway opened hers. They both looked stricken and frightened.

"What's happened?" their mother asked, eyes flicking toward the stairs where the shrieks had pierced the air seconds ago.

"Mary has informed me we're leaving for the dower house tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" Anise's face crumpled. "I've not even had a chance to tell my friends."

"I will appeal to Edward." Mama's hand trembled where she held the door, her face paling just as Poppy's had. "He must give us time. We've not even begun to pack."

Poppy hugged her mother and pressed a kiss to her temple. "We will be all right, Mama. I think it best we not spend another minute in this house with that…"

"Bitch?" Anise offered.

"I think that's an offense to bitches everywhere," their mother said, surprising them both.

Poppy clapped a hand over her mouth, and Anise took a step back into their room, covering her mouth to keep her laugh from being heard by the very bitch in question.

"I love you, Mama," Poppy said.

"And I you, both of you. Now, get some sleep. It appears we've got a long adventure tomorrow."

The following morning, servants arrived with trunks and guilty expressions before they'd even risen, knocking on the doors just past dawn. Their maid whispered how sorry she was to be packing their things, and the footmen who carried the trunks looked forlorn as they disappeared with all the Featherstone belongings.

Poppy descended the stairs so quickly that she thought she might trip and fall in search of her brother. Thank goodness there was no sight yet of Mary. Rather than prowling the halls looking for people to bite, she must have decided to sleep in. Or stay out of their way now that she was getting what she wanted.

The dining room was empty. As was Edward's study. Not even the faint scent of his aftershave to suggest he'd been there recently.

"Where is Lord Leven?" she asked the butler, Grant, who'd been in her brother's service for as long as she could remember. He'd come to the townhouse when Edward had inherited it, and when they'd first been given residence after Papa died, Poppy had been glad for the familiarity and a possible ally.

The butler, too polite to say anything, conveyed quite a lot in his apologetic expression. "I believe he stayed overnight at his club, my lady." He glanced around, perhaps expecting Mary to burst through a wall. Perhaps she wasn't here at all. Maybe they would be lucky enough that she'd left from the house in search of her husband, and they wouldn't have to see her. "This came for ye, Miss Anise and Lady Cullen."

Grant held out a small white envelope, the kind that usually held a calling card. On the front, in a neat scroll, was written: Lady Cullen and the Misses Featherstone .

Her heart clenched to know this would be the last card they got in Edinburgh. Unless their circumstances changed, she highly doubted they would be returning. Poppy opened the envelope, praying at once that it was Dougal's card and, at the very same time, that it wasn't. On the one hand, she wanted him to come and explain his secret engagement, or at least why he'd failed to mention it. Especially right before he'd kissed her, so she might have had the choice not to press her lips to his… Though in the state she'd been, would she have had the nerve to deny him? She wanted to ask why he'd flirted shamelessly with her and given her hope that they might be a possible match when he'd already been tethered to another. But the name inside was not Dougal Mackay. Instead, it was Sir John Ross. The young gentlemen they'd met at the creamery.

The one she'd rather hoped might forget he'd wanted to call. Poppy let out a disappointed sigh.

"And this one."

The butler handed her another card, this one from Colonel Austen. While his card was welcome, it was Dougal's she had been hoping to see.

"Are there any others?" Though she tried not to seem sad about it, she was certain she sounded pitiful.

"I'm afraid no', miss." The butler shook his head, looking as disheartened as she felt.

She nodded, swallowing her disappointment, shoving away all her questions and frustration with Dougal, not wanting to think about whether she'd ever get the chance to voice them.

"Should I send a reply to your inquiries?"

Poppy nodded. "For this morning, please, if they can make it, so we might say goodbye before we are thrust into an uncertain future. I do believe Lady Leven will have our carriage around as soon as she wakes for us to depart. We've got a long journey."

Days, really. Maybe even a week on the road, even with their horse and carriage going full speed, which wouldn't be possible in the Highlands.

The butler, stoic at all times, flinched now. "I would go with ye if they'd allow it," he said softly. "Pardon my being so forward."

"I wish you could."

"I'll have Cook pack the lot of ye something extra fine for your journey."

"Thank you, Grant. I appreciate that, as I'm sure my mother and Anise will as well."

Poppy returned upstairs to where the servants were still packing their things. Anise was sobbing at her dressing table while Mama brushed her hair.

"We have two gentleman callers coming this morning before we depart," Poppy said. "So, dry your eyes. No need for them to see you puffy."

"Who is it?" Anise asked, the very picture of sadness as she stared up watery eyed at Poppy through the looking glass.

"Colonel Austen and Sir John."

Anise perked up at the latter name. She swiped at the tears with a handkerchief and managed a smile. "Oh, how wonderful. Perhaps we can ask them to visit us in the Highlands?"

"I don't think it would hurt to suggest they call if they are in the area, but we must do so carefully," their mother said, showing more energy than she had in months.

"I will follow your lead, Mama," Anise said.

Poppy sat down on the chaise longue, watching her mother and sister prepare for their visitors, feeling sorry for herself, for the one person she wanted to see wasn't coming and had apparently lied to her. Perhaps about more than one thing. He'd certainly toyed with her affections.

"What is it, Pop?" Anise asked, coming to sit beside her and pulling her hands onto her lap.

Poppy didn't know whether she should say it aloud. Doing so made it seem more real, which was the last thing she wanted. Giving credence to Mary's venom felt like a betrayal to her own self. But then again, if they were all going to be sad about one thing or another, they should know that there was no hope for her and the man she'd hoped to marry one day. "Dougal is engaged."

"Engaged?" Her mother turned around, her expression as shocked as Poppy felt. "To whom?"

"Lucia Steventon."

"Since when?" Anise gaped.

"I don't know." This part was true. Yes, Mary had said for several years, but who knew whether that was an exaggeration or not? The truth was she had no facts other than what her sister-in-law had spewed.

"I thought…" Anise trailed off, not voicing the hopes that Poppy had cherished until Mary incinerated them last night.

That there was a future somewhere over the crest of the next hill for her and Dougal. That they just needed more time together for him to get down on one knee and offer her a lifetime. But those were silly notions of a na?ve girl. A stupid, idiot debutante who'd let a flirtation get too carried away for her own good and ended up kissing a man she'd thought loved her.

There'd been no declarations. Nothing but champagne and heat and desire all wrapped up into one swirling, delicious disaster. And now she had the broken heart to prove what a fool she'd been.

"I thought so too." Poppy shrugged, hardening her heart, and forcing herself not to feel anything. No anger. No pain. Nothing at all.

Perhaps Dougal's prior attachment to Lucia was for the best. As she'd quickly found out, being in love or ruled over by a spouse could make a person into someone no one respected. And quite frankly, that sounded awful.

I am not Edward.

And she never would be.

No one will rule over me but myself.