Chapter 6
At breakfast the following morning, Mya felt as though Lottie and Eleanora would be able to read on her face what she’d dreamed about.
Her cheeks felt constantly hot, burning with the memory of the dream.
It had faded, somewhat, since the early hours of the night, but she could remember enough.
She was certain that if she looked at them they would know she was hiding something, even if they couldn’t guess what it was.
Thank goodness Lord McGregor wasn’t around; she’d die of embarrassment for sure.
Lottie, of course, knew right away. Mya thought Eleanora had likely noticed something was off and simply hadn’t mentioned it.
Staring intently at her food and not meeting anyone’s eyes had likely not been the most subtle course of action, she had to admit to herself when Lottie got up from her own chair to drop lightly into the one beside Mya’s.
“If you are attempting to hide from us,” she said, “I believe you might be better served by not being in the same room.”
A nervous giggle rushed up Mya’s throat, too quickly to stifle.
There was a moment of startled silence from Lottie.
Slowly, not sure she even wanted to see the expression on the other woman’s face, Mya lifted her head to find Lottie looking at her with one eyebrow lifted, her expression otherwise carefully blank. “I…” Mya looked down at her food again.
“Whatever it is, you can tell us,” Lottie said. “We promise not to be scandalized.” A smile slipped into her voice. “That is, I promise not to be scandalized. Ella promises nothing. She is constantly scandalized.”
“Even if that had once been true,” Eleanora retorted from across the table, “living with you, Lottie, has utterly ruined my ability to be anything of the sort.” Her voice gentled.
“Mya, dear, if you wish to talk about it, you may. If not, simply tell Lottie to mind her own business. She will not actually make you give up any information you would rather keep to yourself.”
“That’s true,” Lottie said. “I will not.”
Mya pulled her lower lip between her teeth, sighing.
Of all the people in the world she might discuss the dream with, Lottie and Ella were hardly the worst options.
And perhaps they would be able to give her some aid in how to deal with it.
Preferably in such a way that she could avoid turning bright red any time she came within five feet of Lord McGregor.
“I had a dream,” she said, the words coming up much softer than she’d meant to say them. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I had a dream of a rather… intimate sort. I suppose I find it rather embarrassing, truth be told.”
Lottie leaned forward in her chair, eyes shining. “Is that all? I’m quite sure that you are not the only person who’s had such dreams. Do not worry yourself about it. And you are welcome to tell it to me—to us—in as much detail as you like.”
That reaction didn’t surprise Mya at all. Eleanora’s soft chuckle, however, did. Mya looked up at the other woman, wondering what it was she found so amusing.
“You need not be embarrassed about it,” Eleanora said. “I wouldn’t go announcing it to the world at large, but we two are not going to judge you for such things. As Lottie said, you are hardly the only person to have them.”
The words were somehow more reassuring coming from Eleanora. Lottie, Mya expected to be completely unconcerned about the issue, but Eleanora appeared to be rather conservative in comparison. It was a relief to know that she was not going to be judged.
“Who was it about?” Lottie asked.
Mya felt her cheeks go hot. “It was—” She swallowed.
“You do not have to say,” Eleanora remarked, shooting a warning look at Lottie.
She knew that she didn’t, but Lottie’s gaze was still fixed expectantly on her, and Mya found that she wanted to say the name aloud.
“It was about Lord McGregor,” she admitted, looking away and trying to ignore the fact that her entire face felt as though it was on fire.
“Oh…” Lottie sat back in her seat with a dejected air. “Well that was completely expected.”
Mya stared at her. And then she laughed. “Are you serious? That’s all the reaction I get? ‘Well that was expected’? I’m mortified, and you’re… disappointed?”
“I would have been much more interested if you had said the dream was about Doctor MacAslan,” Lottie said, eyes twinkling.
“You are a very odd specimen of human,” Mya answered, shaking her head.
The conversation might have gone on, if the maid had not entered just then with a quick little curtsy and an envelope in her hand. “The mail, missus,” she announced.
“Thank you, Mary,” Eleanora said, reaching out to take the envelope.
Lottie turned away from Mya at last to stare at the letter in Eleanora’s hand as the maid scurried out again. “What is it?”
“Give me a moment,” Eleanora said, rising from the table to take a letter opener from the desk in the corner of the room.
“And I will tell you.” When she had slit the heavy envelope open, she drew out a piece of paper and scanned the contents.
“It seems,” she said, her eyes moving left to right, “that we are invited to a party in eight days' time.”
“Whose party?” Lottie demanded, standing to move behind Eleanora and read over her shoulder.
“Mr. and Mrs. Auteberry. For their daughter.”
“Hmm. Not the people I would have picked, but a party is a party.” Lottie turned a smile on Mya. “You’ll be coming with us, of course.”
Mya didn't know how to argue with that. She was simply too grateful the conversation had been turned to another topic and she didn’t have to go into detail about her dream that had felt so real.
It felt more like a memory than a dream. She pushed the thought aside, preferring to listen to Lottie talk about dresses and what they would wear.
***
Preparing for a party, as it turned out, was a lot more work than Mya would have expected, especially since they were not the hosts. But there were apparently dresses to be made, and corsets to be fitted. Gloves and shoes, along with hats to buy.
The days flew past in a blur of activity.
At the same time, Mya’s shoulder healed as the good doctor had said it would.
She grew excited about the party and thankful that the doctor wasn’t looking for her family.
For some reason, it felt like everything she needed was close by.
That there wasn’t a family looking for her.
He questioned her again about her memories, but didn’t press her.
Mya had the thought that the doctor assumed she’d run away and was pretending not to remember.
She let him think that without a shred of guilt.
She was sure her memory would come back eventually.
Until then, she was going to enjoy the company of Lottie and Eleanor.
Lottie had found out most of the guest list, and spent some time each evening coaching Mya on who would be there.
Most of the names were easily forgotten, the details about their owners not important enough to truly keep Mya's interest. She didn't see any reason to know everything about everyone at all times.
Surely there were better, more relaxed, ways to handle socializing.
One guest, however, she did care about.
“Lord McGregor will be there, of course,” Lottie said two nights before the party.
Mya paused in the middle of examining her reflection in the mirror, one of the new hats perched on her head. “He will?” she asked, trying to pitch the question in such a tone that it did not sound as though she cared.
Lottie, of course, saw right through it. “There, and, as far as anyone knows, still single. Things may not stay that way for long, unless I completely miss my guess, so if you want a chance I say take it before it is gone.”
“Why would it not stay that way?”
“He is a very eligible bachelor,” Lottie said, lounging across the bed with her hair undone and her shoes off. “He has quite an adequate salary, and of course his own estate. And it’s hardly a stretch to call him handsome.”
“I'm not actually looking to marry him, you know,” Mya pointed out.
“No? What is it that you seek to do, then? Just get him in bed?”
Mya blushed instantly. She felt the heat in her cheeks and saw the color in her reflection in the mirror.
“I think that is rather frowned upon, actually. I thought I would simply leave him be.” Mya shrugged.
“Just because I had a dream about the man does not mean that I need to start hearing wedding bells.
I didn't like him when I first met him. I am not going to fawn all over him now.”
“It is Kayden you ought to be trying that disinterested act on, not me.”
Mya froze. “I-I beg your pardon? Did you say Kayden?”
“Yes,” Lottie said, completely unaware of what she had just done. “Kayden McGregor. I thought we had told you his first name.”
Mutely, Mya shook her head. What was she meant to say to that?
That she had known it without being told?
That would suggest that she had somehow known Lord Kayden McGregor before the accident, but that was impossible.
He hadn't told her, and he hadn't known who she was.
Yet, that wanton dream of hers had him calling his name. There had to be some other explanation.
Lottie remained a few minutes longer, trying to engage Mya in some other conversation about some of the attendees.
Most of it was gossip. When all she got were single-syllable answers and the occasional nod, she gave up with a sigh and left Mya to herself, heading out to find Ella or someone else she could talk to.
When the room was empty, Mya sank down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through her hair.
She had known his name, in the dream. Maybe, she thought, she had heard it somewhere.
From someone that she couldn't remember. Bits and pieces of her memory seemed to be coming back occasionally. Small things, like rolling hills of country side, a melody of a song she knew, things that were not helpful to who she was, but it was at least a start. Once in the carriage, there had been a view of the hillside that she swore she had seen before, except without the houses in it. Maybe it had been a painting or something, she wasn’t quite sure.
So she kept the thoughts to herself, not quite ready to share.
She thought of Kayden again. Perhaps that name had just been lurking in the back of her mind.
He was, as Lottie had said, quite rich. And his name was well known in the area.
If she had come from a town nearby, which seemed likely, she would have heard it.
The dream had simply supplied it when her conscious mind had not been aware enough of the information's existence for her to recall it outside of a dream.
That was it.
And yet, the explanation, no matter how much sense it made, did not satisfy the nervous knot in the pit of her stomach, or the question of why she felt as though she had known him when there was nothing to indicate that she had ever met him before the day in the market.