Chapter Four
Suddenly Agatha was gazing up at him in a way that made Donal feel very confused.
How did she change so suddenly from being very obviously annoyed with him to looking as if she truly was besotted with him?
She must be a very good actress. Donal reminded himself he was supposed to be in love with her too and quickly rearranged his features into something he hoped looked appropriate.
“Would you drink some punch with me?” he asked her, gesturing toward the bowl on the table beside them.
“Thank you, Lord Donal,” she said sweetly, “I would love some punch.”
“Perhaps we could ride tomorrow morning,” Donal went on. “Or stroll in the park? The weather promises to hold.”
“I do not ride, but I would like nothing better than to stroll with you in the park,” Agatha said fervently.
Donal blinked. “Overdoing it slightly,” he muttered.
“Shut up,” she said through clenched teeth.
That was the moment when Mary reached them.
She looked perplexed and maybe even upset, her dark eyes darting from Donal to Agatha and then back again.
“What are you doing here, Donal?” she demanded.
“I told you I was no’ coming back to Scotland until I was ready, and . . . and I may never be ready!”
Donal felt his heart sink down into his boots, but before he could begin to do something foolish, like beg her forgiveness, Agatha spoke up for him.
“I think you are under a misapprehension, Miss Davidson. Lord Donal is here tonight with me. My father is a friend of his brother.”
Mary’s gaze fixed on her as if trying to make sense of her words. “Donal is here with you?”
The insult was apparent, but Agatha continued to smile smugly. “That’s right. We are very well acquainted.” She sent Donal a flirtatious glance so that there could be no mistaking her meaning.
“It is true.” Donal wished he could cross his fingers in that childish way of negating a lie. “Rory is a friend of Lord Kilsyth who is Miss Kilsyth’s father. We are already firm friends,” he added, in case she was still in doubt.
“I have heard Rory speak of Lord Kilsyth,” Mary admitted. “But why are you here in London, Donal, if you are not following me? I don’t understand.”
“I am staying with Aunt Jennie,” he said, not quite answering her question. “I just felt like a change of scenery. Like you,” he added.
Mary stared, as if she was trying to see inside his head. She knew him well enough to understand that Donal was very unlikely to want to leave Bonnyrigg on a whim. He would need a crucial reason to do so. A change of scenery? Unlikely.
“Aunt Jennie is lonely,” he said hastily before she could challenge him. “She wrote to ask me to come and stay with her. And as there was nothing at home to keep me, it seemed like a bonny idea.”
There, that was better! Donal waited for Mary to respond—she was still looking doubtful. Just then a man appeared behind her with the sort of expression he often saw on the faces of privileged, indulged gentlemen.
He was older than Donal by about ten years and fashionably dressed, with his tawny-brown hair cut in the latest style. “I say, Miss Davidson,” he said petulantly. “We are missing our dance.”
Mary glanced back at him, but she did not appear to feel the need to hurry away just because he wanted her to. “Just a moment, Belvoir,” she said snappishly.
Belvoir appeared taken aback by this, and Donal choked on a laugh. His lady love could be testy when interrupted, and obviously Belvoir was not used to being asked to wait.
Mary continued her interrogation. “You are telling me that you came to stay with your aunt and that you are best friends with Miss Kilsyth? Why did I not know about her then? If you were such chums, I would have heard.”
Donal smiled, and this time it was a genuine one. “Why should you know about her, Mary? You told me no’ to contact you, and I was only obeying your wishes.”
Mary looked annoyed at being wrong footed.
Her gaze went again to Agatha, and whatever she saw there did not seem to impress her.
She put her pretty nose in the air. “Then I am very sorry I interrupted you and your friend,” she said.
“I dinna expect we will be seeing much of each other. We no longer move in the same circles.”
Donal looked at Agatha and she giggled in a way he was certain was not normal for her.
“Oh, but we shall!” she declared. “Lord Donal and I will be attending a great many events this season before we . . .” She giggled again.
“I must not say. It is a secret.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Donal in a truly alarming manner.
Mary stared at them stony faced before she gave a disbelieving laugh, tossing her head as she turned away with Belvoir in tow.
Donal shot Agatha a confused look. “What do you mean ‘it is a secret’?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Agatha retorted. “I just wanted her to worry that she may have lost you forever. Do you think she looked worried? She was probably expecting you to sit at home pining away and that if things didn’t turn out here in London the way she wanted them to, then she’d know she could go back to you. ”
For a moment, Donal’s spirits rose at the idea of Mary coming home to him. Only to sink again a moment later. Did he want to be second best? Was he content to be the man who won Mary by default?
He wasn’t. He wanted Mary back but not because she saw him as second best, and it hurt to think she believed he would always be there, waiting for her like a faithful dog.
Agatha had been watching him and no doubt saw those thoughts flitting across his face. She was wearing a little smirk.
“What now?” he asked her grumpily.
She waved a hand airily. “We carry on. You don’t want to give up yet, do you? Although I suppose you can—I can’t stop you if you want to scurry back to Bonnyrigg.”
Donal should have been insulted, and he was a little.
The image of him scampering off, of giving up without even trying, stung.
But Agatha didn’t know him if she thought he was about to do that.
Before he could assure her that was not going to happen, he noticed her expression had suddenly lost all of its animation until she looked positively bleak.
“What is it?” he said quickly.
“Richard,” she said softly.
Donal could see the dance floor through the door to the supper room, and he followed her gaze to a gentleman of medium height with brown hair who was wearing a garish waistcoat and dancing with a fair-haired woman.
As he watched the man seemed to misstep, and the woman grimaced, and then patted his arm and smiled.
“Did Richard just stand on her foot?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes.” Her voice was dull. “He is a terrible dancer. I always forgave him because I loved him.”
Donal felt a sharp pang of sympathy. He understood exactly what Agatha was feeling.
He also knew she was right when she said they couldn’t give up after one encounter with their lost loves.
They had to keep trying and hope that in the end they would both find their happily ever afters.
Because when he tried to imagine a life without Mary, he felt like a dying fish on a riverbank, flapping and gasping and longing for the cool water.
He wasn’t even sure what his life would look like if he couldn’t have Mary, and evidently Agatha felt the same about Richard.
Agatha had made an effort to shake off her despondency and now turned back to the supper room, “My father and Mrs. Robinson are seated over there,” she said. “Shall we join them?”
He squeezed her arm. “Aye.”
Lord Kilsyth and his companion were enjoying a glass of champagne and some chicken fricassee.
They smiled and chatted and were obviously enjoying themselves.
Mrs. Robinson was probably the same age as Aunt Jennie, with graying dark hair swept back to her crown, and intelligent dark eyes.
As Agatha and Donal arrived and sat down, Kilsyth gave his daughter a searching look, probably seeing beyond her determination to pretend to be enjoying herself. Donal tried not to sag in his chair.
“Dear me,” Mrs. Robinson said, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. “You seem down in the dumps, Lord Donal.”
Donal forced a smile and an apology.
“Lord Donal has just seen his beloved in the arms of that scoundrel Belvoir,” Agatha explained.
“Oh dear,” Lord Kilsyth looked concerned. “Someone should warn the silly girl about that gentleman.”
“I thought about it,” Agatha said, “but then she was horrible to us.”
“Hmm.” Mrs. Robinson rose to her feet. “I think I will have a word, Agatha. Then none of us can feel guilty if things don’t turn out well for her. Unless you want to do it, Lord Donal?”
Donal knew he probably should, but what was the point? “She won’t listen to me,” he said. “She’ll accuse me of trying to spoil things for her.”
Mrs. Robinson gave him a sympathetic nod.
“Then I will try.” They watched her leave the room in some surprise, apart from Agatha’s father who was smiling.
“Miriam has a mind of her own,” he explained, “and a very kind heart. I won’t reveal her story except to say she was hurt badly as a girl by a man who sounds a bit like Belvoir. ”
“Oh,” Agatha said softly.
“Have you seen Richard?” Kilsyth asked after a moment, once again watching his daughter’s face.
She nodded. “Briefly. He did not see me. He was too busy ogling that woman.”
Donal thought she was right, Sir Richard had been ogling his partner, as if she were everything he imagined a woman should be and more.
As if he couldn’t believe she was real. Donal suspected the fellow would eventually be disappointed, because who could be perfect, really?
There were always flaws, always cracks and dark corners, in everybody.
“Well,” Kilsyth said with forced cheerfulness, “it is early days. My advice, if you want it, is that you should both carry on. Then when Richard discovers he has made a terrible mistake, you will be on hand to forgive him.”
Agatha smiled wanly. “Let us hope he regains his senses soon.”
Looking between father and daughter made Donal wonder what his father Maxwell would think of his current situation.
Would he applaud his son’s efforts or tell him not to be such a fool and to come home?
After the way his brothers had behaved when they were in London, his father could hardly put Donal’s small misdemeanor in the same basket.
He had forgiven Callum and Rory, and their wives had been warmly welcomed into the MacKenzie clan.
It was just that Donal had always felt as if he was treated differently.
His family seemed to want to coddle him and to protect him, as if he couldn’t look after himself.
The very thought of him setting off to London in pursuit of Mary had alarmed them.
Not because they thought he might succeed but because they already saw him failing and returning home even more hurt than when he had left.
Mrs. Robinson returned and sat down. She raised her elegant eyebrows at Kilsyth. “She didn’t want to talk to me. She told me to mind my own business.”
“At least you tried, Miriam,” Kilsyth said, covering her hand with his.
Agatha seemed fascinated by their display of affection and perhaps not entirely happy about it. To distract her, Donal said, “Shall we dance again?”
He had to admit that they danced well together.
If they spent the next few weeks simply dancing, he wasn’t going to complain.
Although that was defeatist thinking, and remembering his family had made him more motivated to carry out their plan and return triumphant.
He just had to imagine the shocked admiration on their faces to inspire himself.
Agatha looked at him in surprise and then nodded. “Yes, let’s show them how much fun we are having.” And when they stood up, she beamed at him so brightly that he almost believed her.