9

Dawlish was carried up to bed and the doctor sent for. The poor physician had to slog two miles through the snow to attend him. He pronounced that the patient was suffering from a sprained ankle, that the fellow should keep it bandaged tightly for a couple of weeks, and that he should not walk about on it more than necessary. If the doctor felt any disgust at having to come out in such weather to attend so minor an injury, his feelings were certainly assuaged by the large fee that Lady Teale bestowed on him.

Dawlish himself was both relieved and disappointed. It would have given him some sort of satisfaction—after carrying on as he had—to have suffered a broken bone, but on the other hand, he was grateful that he didn’t have to spend the rest of the Christmas holiday in bed. He had been planning for several days to do something very special on Christmas Eve, and he would not have liked to do it from a bed of pain.

His plan was to make Caro Woolcott an offer. It was the first time in all his twenty-eight years that he’d felt tempted to offer for a lady. Never before had he found a girl so perfectly suited to his taste. No only was she lovely to look upon, but she shared all his interests and concerns. And, best of all, she seemed to return his regard. For, as he confided to his sister when she came to see him after the doctor’s departure, there was little point in a man’s making a girl an offer if she was likely to refuse him. “You do think, don’t you, Emmaline, that Caro will accept me?” he asked his sister hopefully.

Emmaline studied her brother with unwonted sympathy, for he looked a bit pathetic as he sat on his bedroom chaise with his bandaged leg resting on a pillow. “Caro’s said nothing to me on the subject,” she told him frankly, “but she has been in your pocket ever since we arrived. I suppose that’s as good a sign as any.”

“Yes, I think so, too,” Douglas smiled, leaning back against the chaise with his arms behind his head, suddenly the very model of confident manhood. “I shall put the question to her tomorrow evening. It’s quite the ideal time, don’t you agree? In that way, in later years, she and I shall always have a particular, personal feeling about Christmas Eve.”

Emmaline nodded, approving of the romantic notion. “I wish you all the best, Douglas,” she said. “Caro will be as fine a life’s mate as any man could hope for.”

With that, she left to dress for dinner. But as she passed Caroline’s bedroom, she had a sudden urge to reveal to her friend the exciting surprise in store for her. “Caro,” she chortled, popping her head in the door, “be sure to save your most fetching gown for tomorrow evening.”

“What did you say, Emmaline?” Caroline said in an abstracted voice. She spoke from the window seat, where she’d been sitting for the past hour. She’d been staring out into the darkness, thinking about the Scotsman, George David McAusland, Lord Dunvegan, who wanted only to be called Geordie. He’d called her dautie, a darling, but it was he who was dautie. She’d spent the hour at the window glumly reliving the very unsatisfactory conversation she’d had with him earlier, berating herself for having misjudged him, and for having been so poor-spirited in the manner in which she’d owned up to that misjudgment. She hadn’t even apologized, and an apology was the very least the fellow deserved after having practically saved her life that afternoon! Her mind was a tumultuous sea of confusion, in which feelings of shame and frustration tossed about with other, deeper emotions that she was afraid to identify. She’d been uncomfortably aware of those strange emotions even before the afternoon he’d kissed her, but the kiss has stirred them up to a troublesome pitch. She’d been trying to come to grips with those feelings when Emmaline made her abrupt interruption.

“I said,” Emmaline repeated gleefully, “that you must choose your most fetching gown to wear to dinner tomorrow.”

Caroline looked over at her in utter confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Emmaline, but don’t stand there half-in and half-out. Do come in.”

Emmaline whisked herself in and shut the door. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, my love,” she grinned, “but Douglas is planning a tremendous surprise for you on Christmas Eve. So you must be in your very best looks.”

“Douglas is planning a surprise for me? I don’t understand. What sort of surprise?”

“Surely you can guess. His intentions toward you are as plain as pikestaff. Even Lady Powell was hinting of it yesterday.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re babbling about,” Caroline said impatiently, passing her hand over her forehead and attempting to clear her mind. “What was Lady Powell hint—” But then she remembered. “Good God!” she exclaimed, turning pale. “You don’t mean—?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Emmaline said, her face glowing with excited anticipation. “You’re going to get an offer. A Christmas Eve offer!”

“Oh, Emmaline,” Caroline gasped, “no!”

Emmaline was taken aback. There was no mistaking that Caroline’s response was not a happy one. “No?” she asked, her high spirits instantly deflated. “What do you mean, no? Don’t you believe me? I’m not mistaken, Caro. Douglas does intend to offer. He told me so.”

“Emmaline, please!” Caroline jumped up from the window seat and ran across to her friend. “Don’t let him. He mustn’t!”

“But of course he must. Everyone expects it.”

“How can they expect it? They have no cause—”

“No cause? How can you say they have no cause? Why, you and Douglas have had your heads together constantly for the past four days!”

“But that was only … I never meant—! Honestly, Emmaline, how can you have believed I cared for him? Didn’t you always say he wasn’t my sort?”

Emmaline fixed Caroline with an angry eye. “Before this week, I didn’t believe he was your sort, but even I became convinced you were taken with him lately. If you’re now trying to tell me you won’t have him, that’s of course your privilege. It’s entirely your affair. I don’t want to hear it.”

“But, Emmaline,” Caroline pleaded, “shouldn’t you warn him? If he knows he’s misjudged … that I didn’t intend—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Emmaline repeated, turning to the door. “I shouldn’t have said a word to you.” But she turned back for a parting shot before leaving. “The truth is, Caro Woolcott, you’ve led my brother on in the most flagrant way. And if now you’ve changed your mind about him, you’ll have to get yourself out of this coil without any help from me!”

Caroline, left alone and shaken, clung to the bedpost for a moment, trying to sort out the muddle in her brain. Slowly she lowered herself to the bed and leaned her forehead against the bedpost in despair. This was all her fault, that much was suddenly quite clear. She’d used poor Douglas just to taunt Geordie, and now Douglas believed she cared for him. He would make his offer, and she would have to hurt him. As if that were not bad enough, Geordie would see her doing it, just as he’d seen her do it to Archie. Geordie already disliked her, but how much more would he dislike her when he saw her act the heartless jilt again?

She couldn’t bear the thought of it. How could she—and on Christmas Eve!—break one man’s heart and disgust another? It was too dreadful to contemplate. She wished with all her heart that she’d never come to this place. She should have stayed at home in London. Although she’d have been alone in London, she would have been safe from this sort of emotional turmoil. Safe at home was where she wanted to be, more than anything.

Why not? she asked herself, sitting up with a start. She could bribe a stablehand to borrow one of the carriages and a pair of horses, and they could leave at dawn. She could be in London by Christmas! In two days, she’d be safe, and she would have avoided all the pain and stress that remaining here would cause. It was a wonderful solution that would be better for everyone. Lady Teale and Bella might feel offended, but she would write and explain. Emmaline and Douglas would be grateful, for they’d quickly realize that she’d saved Douglas from the humiliation of having his suit refused. And as for Geordie, he would barely notice that she’d gone.

It was decided. She would go. All she had to do was to steal down to the stables and make arrangements. There was still half an hour before dinner was to be served—she could do it right now.

At that very moment, Geordie was paying a call on Douglas Dawlish in the opposite wing of the house. Already dressed in his evening clothes, the Scotsman had come, at his aunt’s request, to see if the incapacitated fellow needed some help in going down the stairs to the dining room. He found Douglas in a surprisingly good mood. “I’m glad to see that y’re takin’ yer mishanter in good spirits, Dawlish,” Geordie remarked.

“That’s because I realize my accident—my mishanter, as you call it—could’ve been worse,” Douglas said, taking Geordie’s arm. “At least I’ll be well enough on Christmas Eve to be able to go down to dinner and make my announcement.”

Geordie was supporting Douglas’s arm as the injured fellow limped to the door. “Announcement?” he asked.

“I’m sure everyone’s guessed by this time about Caro and me.”

“Caro and ye?” Geordie felt a sharp contraction in his stomach. It was so painful that he stumbled.

“Careful, old man,” Douglas warned, steadying himself by holding on to the doorjamb. “If you lose your balance, you’ll upset us both.”

“Sorry,” Geordie muttered, carefully leading him toward the stairs. “What is it ye were sayin’ about ye and Caro—Miss Woolcott?”

“Just that I’ve chosen Christmas Eve to announce our betrothal. It’s a most appropriate time, wouldn’t you say? So festive.”

Geordie couldn’t bring himself to utter more than a grunt. His shock was so great that he could barely take it in. Caroline and Dawlish, betrothed! The thought sickened him. How could she? The fellow was a maw-worm! Couldn’t she see it? But what did he expect? The first time he met her, the girl had described the sort of man she wanted. Hadn’t she said then that she disliked Corinthians and gamblers and only wanted a man who could read the Antigone in Greek? Well, she’d found one. He wished her happy.

By the time they reached the drawing room he was so tired of forcing himself to wish her happy that he was ready to strangle her. The girl was an idiot. Hadn’t she realized that he, Geordie, was in love with her? Hadn’t she sensed that all their encounters had been nothing but lovers’ quarrels? Where was her sense?

He deposited the odious Dawlish on an armchair and let Aunt Maud take over the chore of fussing over him. Geordie himself was done with the fellow. Even if Douglas Dawlish toppled over on his face, Geordie wouldn’t lift a finger to help him.

The smoldering Scotsman stalked across the room to where Aunt Maud’s butler was passing around the pre-prandial sherries. He took one from the tray and drained it in a gulp. Then he went to the window and stared out into the darkness. What was he doing here? he asked himself. This “holiday” was becoming nothing but torture. He ought to be home, in Kincardine, instead of being imprisoned here, where he’d have to endure Christmas watching Dawlish and Caroline with their heads together. And what misery he’d suffer on Christmas Eve, when he’d be forced to smile through the recital of that muckworm’s betrothal announcement. Dash it all, he told himself, he would refuse to listen to it. He wouldn’t. He didn’t have to stay there. He could just go home.

The idea was too tempting to push aside. Who would stop him if he just took his leave? Archie’s horses and carriage were ready in the stables for just such a purpose. He could take himself to Scotland first thing in the morning. Since his aunt’s matchmaking plan for him was not going to be fruitful, she would probably be willing to let him go. But her wishes really made no difference; he had no intention of asking her. Tomorrow, when she came down to breakfast, she would find him gone.

But if he was to leave at dawn, he’d have to go out to the stables at once, tonight, to make arrangements. There was still time to steal down there before dinner was announced. After all, one of the guests had still to make an appearance. Caroline. Caroline had not yet come down.