Chapter 17 #2
"I will speak to her on your behalf. As I said, I have an interest in putting the lighthouse through. When we are married, I hope to have a better influence with her. She can be quite stubborn in a delightful way."
Dougal frowned. "Married?"
"It is premature of me to speak openly, but a happy heart loosens the tongue. I have asked the lady to marry me, and her coquetry gives me hope that she means to accept."
Dougal stared at him. "Her coquetry... Sir, forgive my confusion. We are speaking of Lady Strathlin, of Strathlin Castle and Charlotte Square in Edinburgh?" A lady fond of swimming in large hats, fond of her privacy, and very fond of sinking lighthouse engineers, he felt tempted to add.
"Yes. Margaret—Lady Strathlin." Matheson nodded. "I would accept your congratulations now, but it is more seemly to wait until my darling makes the announcement herself. Therefore, I must ask you to say nothing of this to anyone."
Dougal felt a cold sensation seeping through him. Beautiful. Charming. Winsome. A naturalist. Barefoot. "Margaret... Lady Strathlin," he repeated softly.
"On the island she goes by Meg MacNeill. Perhaps you have met her by that name?"
Dear God. He had been a supreme fool.
* * *
Dreary rain and the voluminous folds of a dark blue cloak wrapped Meg in shadows inside the hired coach as it rolled through the streets of Edinburgh.
Swaying with the vehicle and listening to the steady clop of horse hooves, she glanced at Angela Shaw, seated across from her.
Then she peered again through the window at the rain-washed street.
"The driver is slowing," Angela said. "We are nearly there. Oh dear, was a hired coach truly necessary? If we should be seen this way, your reputation would be ruined, madam. And I'm just not certain this is safe."
"I'm here to protect you, ladies," Guy Hamilton said.
He sat in the shadows across from Meg and beside Angela, one booted foot propped on his knee.
His expression was grim and dubious, but he had agreed to accompany them—had insisted on it when he had accidentally discovered Meg and Angela trying to slip away from the Charlotte Square address for an evening rendezvous.
"One of my own carriages might be recognized," Meg said. "And I simply must speak with Dougal in private."
"Dougal, is it? So you do hold some affection for him. My intuition told me so," Angela said. "I saw it in your eyes, in your wistful expression and your blush whenever he was mentioned. Obviously something wonderful happened on the Isle of Caransay," she added in a soft murmur, her eyes sparkling.
Meg looked out at the glinting rain. "Yes—wonderful, but unexpected. And I have made a thorough mess of it. I want to try to fix it now, if it can be fixed at all."
"Dougal Stewart?" Guy muttered. "It's incredible, really."
"Meg, I hoped such a blessing would come into your life someday," Angela said. "Does Mr. Stewart return your affection?"
"He returned it to Meg MacNeill, but... I am not certain that he will share it with Lady Strathlin."
"If it is true love, your name and fortune will make no difference," Angela said. "Love finds a way, so it is said."
"In this case," Guy said, "love's way may be littered with lawyers and bankers. It is indeed a thorough mess. The man has a great deal of pride, my lady. It will take more than a simple explanation to win his affection after he learns the truth."
"I do wish we'd left you at home," Angela said.
"You cannot do without me, dear Mrs. Shaw," he quipped.
"I have to confess the truth to him," Meg said.
"I have to. I cannot live with this any longer.
It was never my choice for it to continue like this and become so very complicated.
" She felt dizzy, staring into the darkness and rain, as if she poised on the brink of a cliff.
She gripped the leather loop on the door.
"You surely must tell him in private, before he comes to the soiree and learns it in public," Guy agreed.
"I fear Sir Frederick may have already told him," Meg said.
"Matheson knows that Stewart thinks you are no more than a girl of the Isles?" Guy said.
Meg shrugged, for she was not sure.
"In all fairness, she is a girl of the Isles," Angela pointed out. "We should not forget that. Meg never truly lied to Mr. Stewart. She simply... omitted a few details."
"Thank you, Angela," Meg said.
Guy huffed. "I doubt Stewart will see it that way. What does Matheson know about all this?" he asked curtly.
"I wish I knew. He visited me on Caransay, and he saw that I wanted to be simply Meg MacNeill there. He could easily find out that Mr. Stewart never realized my identity. Sir Frederick might have told him already. They were to have a meeting today."
"Matheson will be too busy puffing his own feathers to waste time talking about anyone else," Guy remarked. "I wouldn't worry."
"I do worry. Guy, Angel, I must tell you. Everyone will know, sooner or later. I have... decided to marry Sir Frederick."
The silence, immediate and profound, did not last. "You what!" Guy exclaimed, while Angela gasped.
"I must. It's best for all concerned, I think."
"Best! It's plain foolish," Guy growled from the shadows.
"Why do this, dear? I do not understand," Angela said. "He was once a friend and supporter to you. I know that. But over time he has revealed himself to be a rather unsavory man. You cannot abide him. How can you accept him as a husband?"
"Because," Meg said, looking at Angela in the darkness. She could feel her heart pounding. "He knows about Iain."
"Oh, my God," Angela murmured.
"Who?" Guy asked.
"I will explain later," Meg said. Angela and Mrs. Berry, her closest confidantes, knew about Iain's existence, but Guy had never guessed.
Now, for some reason, she felt ready to let Guy learn about it.
She wanted to confide in her friends about Sir Frederick's evil threats, but she could not bring herself to explain Iain's existence to Guy directly.
She leaned to look out the window. "We are nearly there. "
"Who is Iain?" Guy asked. Angela waved her hand to hush him.
The coach slowed to a stop. "Calton Hill," the driver called. "Number Thirty-nine Calton Hill."
Meg felt the lurch as the driver climbed down. She looked at Angela and Guy. "Wait here. I will not be long. Once I tell Mr. Stewart the truth, he will not wish me to linger."
Angela reached out to squeeze Meg's gloved hand. "Courage," she whispered.
Glancing at her friend, Meg drew up the hood of her cloak and shifted to stand as the driver opened the door. Guy stepped out first, offering his hand in assistance to her.
"Tell me what is going on," he murmured.
"Angela will tell you. Go back and stay with her. Tell her that I want her to explain it all to you."
He nodded and walked her toward a stately stone house surrounded by an iron fence. Light warmed the wide bay windows of the first and second levels of the house. "Let me go in with you," Guy said. "Let me help you in this."
"I must do this myself. Go back to Angela. Do not leave her alone in the coach. Stay with her. Stay with her always, Guy," she added fervently.
"I intend to, if she will have me," he murmured.
"She will," she said. "Love finds a way. Even when hearts have been bitterly broken, they can heal."
He gazed down at her, then tipped his hat. "Sound advice, my lady," he said. He opened the gate for her and turned, leaving her standing in the darkness and mist.
She walked through the gate, her heart slamming, hands clenching inside her gloves. This was the house where Dougal was staying with family while he was in Edinburgh. She glanced at the brass address plaque and saw the name beneath the engraved number: Doctor Connor MacBain.
A doctor's household would be accustomed to unexpected visitors, and it was not yet late, although the rain made the darkness deeper.
She would have to endure the awkwardness of asking to see a gentleman alone, but she would do whatever she must in order to see Dougal.
She could not let him learn about her identity in public at her soiree.
She owed it to him, out of respect and love, to explain it herself in private.
Drawing a deep breath, she strode up the walk and climbed the steps. Wide flower beds edged the foundation of the spacious stone house. Bay windows on the first and second levels were hung with golden drapes, warm with light.
Reaching up to the small black bonnet she wore under her cloak's hood, Meg drew a swath of black netting over her face. Then she drew a deep breath and picked up the door knocker.
Moments later, a woman in a dark dress and white apron appeared, then stepped back immediately to bring Meg into the foyer. "Are you here for the doctor, miss? He has guests and is not seeing patients at this hour, but if 'tis an emergency, Dr. MacBain is always available."
The house was cozily warm and smelled fragrant with cleanliness and baking spice. Toward one side of the house, she heard the rattle of dishes, and elsewhere, the harmony of male and female voices mingled in conversation and laughter.
Clutching the hasp of her cloak with a gloved hand, Meg felt a keen yearning to be part of the warmth and comfort that was so redolent in this place. But she was an outsider. She was suddenly very glad for the protection of her veil.
"I have not come to see Dr. MacBain. I was told that Mr. Dougal Stewart is staying here. I... I have an urgent message for him, if he is here."
"Mr. Stewart, aye. Who is calling?" The housekeeper produced a silver salver to accept Meg's card.
Reaching into her glove where she always slid a calling card or two out of habit, Meg paused, reluctant to produce one. The name Lady Strathlin would cause a stir. "Please tell Mr. Stewart that Miss MacNeill is here to see him."