Angus set down his cup. “No. I was already up.”
“It startled me near to death. I’ll ha’ him for dinner if he dinna watch his manners.”
“That would teach him.”
MacDermott picked up that sat envelope beside his plate. “Wha’ is this?”
“It’s from the Duchess of Roxburghe. An invitation to a dinner party, I believe. I saw her grace yesterday and she asked me to bring it to you.”
MacDermott opened the missive and scanned it quickly. “A dinner party, eh?” He pursed his lips and reread it. “She must be matchmakin’ again. ‘Tis the only explanation.” He refolded the note and put it back into the envelope, and then slipped it into the pocket of his robe. “If Margaret is breathin’, then she’s matchmakin’. She dinna stop.”
“I’m surprised her husband hasn’t anything to say to it.”
“Och, poor Roxburghe. The mon resigned himself to her high jinx years ago. The things one has to do for peace in one’s own house.”
Angus nodded absently. After a moment, he pushed his plate aside.
“No’ eatin’, are you?”
“I’m not hungry.” Angus raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not sleepy. I’m not anything right now.”
MacDermott noted that the lad’s hand seemed to shake. Och, wha’ is this? “You look a mite upset.”
His gaze flickered to MacDermott and then away, as if afraid of revealing too much. “By the by, Aunt Beatrice and I are taking Mother home tomorrow.”
MacDermott’s throat closed and he wondered how much ill news a man could take before breakfast.
Before he could gather his wits, Angus shook his head. “It’s not like that. Mother turned the corner late last night. There’s no more fever.”
“None?”
“Not a bit. Aunt Beatrice sent a note this morning. It’s as we’d hoped; Mother is responding to the treatment.”
MacDermott let out a whoosh of air. “Thank goodness! I was certain you were preparin’ me for the worst.”
“No, no. But Aunt Beatrice thinks Mother will fare better in the countryside, for it’s quieter there.”
“And the doctors?”
“They are surprised at her progress.” A ghost of a smile touched Angus’s mouth. “Mother likes to surprise people.”
“Tha’ she does. It’ll take some effort to get her and her things back to Scotland, for I know how she travels.”
“Yes, she has to have her own bed, plate, and sheets. Add to that more clothing than any one person should own, and the possessions of the dozens of servants she deems necessary for her comfort, and you can see why I’m glad Aunt Beatrice is here to help.”
“I remember when your mither moved to London. It looked as if a caravan of tinkers had arrived in town.”
“It’s going to be a long few days as we’ll have to travel at a snail’s pace with so many wagons and coaches.”
“Your mither will be moody, too. But dinna worry, laddie. I’ll go wit’ you, and do wha’ I can to keep her occupied during the journey. She does like a rubber of whist now and again; ‘twill pass the time.”
An odd smile flickered over the lad’s face. “A few days ago, I would have told you such an effort was unnecessary, that I could handle the arrangements myself.”
“But now?”
“Now, I think I’ll just say thank you.”
Despite the fact his stomach was growling, MacDermott beamed. “Och, wha’ are families for but to help one another o’er the bumps in life.”
Angus nodded and for the first time, MacDermott noted the circles under the lad’s eyes. “Is something else botherin’ ye, lad? Something other than your mither?”
“I discovered that I made an error many years ago and I have no idea how to fix it.”
“It sounds as if you’ve been bitten in the arse by regrets.”
“I hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but yes. There are things I wish I could redo.”
“Regrets help no one, lad. Best leave them oot of your mind.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is. Are you sorry for wha’ you ha’ done or wha’ you havena’ done? Whichever ‘tis, go oot and fix it.”
“Just like that. Just ‘fix it.’”
MacDermott shrugged. “Do you ha’ a better idea?”
Angus managed a humorless smile. “Sadly, in this instance, I’m dealing with more than my own feelings.”
“Och, a woman. I should ha’ known. Tha’ complicates things a wee bit, but no’ so much tha’ you should be losin’ sleep. I can tell you this: whate’er has happened, if you dinna act now, you’ll be sittin’ at another breakfast table in ten years or so, all alone and wishin’ you’d done somethin’.”
Angus rubbed his neck. “She says she has no desire to revisit the past. I don’t blame her; I was a fool.”
“Aye, but you ha’ to say wha’ is in your heart.”
“She doesn’t want to hear it.”
“Laddie, make her listen. Say it o’er and o’er. Or write it in a poem. Or yell it fra’ the back of a horse while wearin’ a suit of armor. They like tha’. Or stand upon your head and refuse to stop until she agrees to speak wit’ you. Or climb into her window and—Bloody hell, must I think of e’erythin’?”
Despite the sinking in his stomach, Angus laughed. “No. I understand what you’re saying.” It was possible his uncle was right. That’s the error I made before, giving up on Charlotte too soon. I won’t repeat that mistake. Ever.
“Do you mind me askin’ you somethin’?”
“Of course.”
“This lady . . . is it love?”
It had always been love, even after I left, but I was too stupid to admit it. “Yes.”
“Then wha’ are you waitin’ on? Find her and tell her how you feel. Tell her now, so your appetite returns. I hate to see good food go to waste.”
Angus had to laugh. He slid his plate across the table to his uncle. “Here. Take it.”
MacDermott brightened. “You dinna mind?”
“I couldn’t eat a bite.” Angus considered his options and thought about Charlotte’s face this morning. Finally, he nodded. “You’re right; Charlotte might not wish to hear what I have to say, but she needs to know how I feel. She deserves that much, at least.”
“Tha’ is my boy.” MacDermott cut a piece of ham. “Aye, you lovely breakfast!” He took a bite, and then sighed happily. “Tha’ almost makes oop for being awakened by tha’ demmed bird.”
Angus stood. “Enjoy your breakfast, Uncle. I’ll be back before you leave for your dinner party.” With that, he left his uncle to his meal.
“Randolph, please stop panting so loudly,” Charlotte whispered to the dog as he padded down the hall after her. “You’ll awaken Margaret. Once she’s up, she’ll want us to do something for her blasted dinner party.” It was an unusual hour of the morning and Charlotte, unable to sleep once again, her mind too full of Angus and his kiss, had finally risen and dressed.
Pinning her lace cap in place, she had hurried down the hallway to the stairs to find breakfast. But as she’d passed the door to the duchess’s suite, Randolph had appeared as if from nowhere, panting and grinning.
He followed her now, sounding like a wheezing farm horse pulling a cart uphill. She reached the stairs to the foyer and started down, only to be halted by Randolph’s whines.
She hurried back up to the dog, who wagged his tail joyously. “You can take these stairs,” she whispered. “Just put your paws—”
The dog barked.
“Shhhh! You have to be quiet. And no,” Charlotte added, “I won’t carry you.”
The gray-muzzled old pug seemed to feel the rebuke in her tone, for he hung his head and peered up at her with a morose gaze.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m immune.” But somehow, less than five minutes later, she found herself carrying the hefty dog down the stairs. “I’m only doing this to keep you quiet,” she told him as sh
e puffed from his weight. “You really need to be put on a reducing diet.” She set him on its feet in the foyer. “Whew! You’ve gained at least five pounds since we arrived in London. You should watch the cake.”
Randolph couldn’t wag his tail harder.
She scratched his ear. “It looks as if we’re the first ones to rise, which is nice. I’ll have time for a quiet walk before Margaret is up and trying to force me into meeting men I’ve no wish to-”
“There you are, slugabed!” The duchess sailed out of the dining room and into the foyer, her morning gown of green fluttering about her. She stopped and turned to face the four footmen who followed. “You have your instructions, so off with you.”
They bowed and then hurried down the hallway to the servant’s entrance.
Margaret watched them with satisfaction. “They are fetching flower arrangements for the dinner party. This will be the dinner party of the season, I’m sure of it.”
“I thought it was going to be small?”
“Smallish.” The duchess bent to pat Randolph. “How is momma’s little boy? Soooo adorable!” After a final pat, she straightened. “There’s still quite a lot to do. I—Oh, Mrs. Lind!”
The housekeeper, who’d been hurrying toward the front parlor, stopped in her tracks. “Yes, your grace?”
“Are the maids polishing the silver?”
“All of them, your grace. I’ve been overseeing it, as they’re wont to miss spots if I don’t watch.”
“And dinner is set?”
“Indeed, your grace. We’re making partridges, a side of beef, turtle soup and – oh, many things! I placed the menu on your desk in case you wished to make changes. We won’t start to cook until ten.”
The duchess looked pleased. “Perfect. Thank you, Mrs. Lind.”
“You’re quite welcome. Did Mr. MacDougal deliver the message that came this morning, your grace? He was looking for you in order to do so. It came this morning while you were speaking with the footmen.”
“No! I haven’t seen him, but I’ll find him now. Thank you, Mrs. Lind.”
The housekeeper curtsied and then left to oversee the silver polishing.
Margaret frowned. “I hope none of my guests are cancelling at the last minute. That’s always so annoying.” She started to turn, but then stopped. “Charlotte, you’re wearing a cap.”
Charlotte lifted her chin. “I like it.”
“Well, I don’t.“ Margaret eyed Charlotte’s mulish expression and then sighed. “Oh, very well. Wear it today, if you must, but not at dinner and not out of the house.”
“Of course.”
A noise down the hall announced the arrival of MacDougal. The tall, angular butler held a letter in his gloved hand. “Your grace, there you are.”
“You’ve a letter for me, I hear.”
“Aye. It came no’ twenty minutes ago and seein’ how ‘twas marked ‘important,’ I thought it best to deliver it right away.”
“Thank you.” Margaret held out her hand.
He handed her the letter. “I couldna’ put it on the letter salver as it was being polished with the rest of the silver.”
“We will make an exception this once.” The duchess opened the missive and scanned it, an odd expression crossing her face.
Charlotte watched with concern. “Has someone cancelled on your dinner party?”
“No, no. Nothing so dire.” Margaret folded the letter, a bright smile on her face. “It’s a reminder of something I’d forgotten. I just—MacDougal!”
“Aye, yer grace?”
“My fireplace.”
The butler blinked. “Yer fireplace, yer grace?”
“It puffed horribly this morning. I was going to ask one of the footmen to look to see if a bird has built a nest in the chimney, but they are all busy. Could you look at it?”
“Of course, yer grace.”
“Good. Charlotte, while MacDougal and I are examining the chimney, would you be a dear and fetch the silver punch bowl from the top shelf in the pantry? The one the Duke of Claridge gave Roxburghe on his birthday. Mrs. Lind is too busy overseeing the silver polishing.”
She stifled a sigh. There went her calming morning walk. “I would be glad to help in any way I can.”
“I knew I could count on you. Here’s the key to the pantry.” Margaret pulled a large iron key from her pocket and handed it to Charlotte. “Come, MacDougal. If it’s a bird, I wish to shoo it out before the evening fires are set.” She sailed up the stairs, the butler trailing behind.
The house seemed strangely silent as Margaret’s voice faded into quiet.
Charlotte looked down at Randolph, who still sat at her feet. “All of this for a dinner party. I daresay she’s invited twenty bachelors and no women, so I’ll be forced to speak to them all and—”
A rapid knock sounded on the front door.
Charlotte glanced around, but no footmen appeared. Oh yes, the flower arrangements.
The knock came again, more insistent this time.
“I suppose we’ll have to answer that,” she told Randolph.
He panted happily and followed her to the door.
She opened the heavy panel. “I’m sorry, but no one is available this mor—” She stiffened. “Angus? What are you doing here?”
Angus steeled himself against the momentary pang her obvious disappointment caused him. “I came to talk to you.”
“We said all there was to say yesterday.”
“No, we haven’t.”
A fat pug popped his head around the door and panted happily at Angus.
“At least one creature is happy to see me.”
“Randolph doesn’t know what’s good for him. I do.” She tried to close the door.
Angus put his boot against it. “Just one minute, and then I’ll leave.”
Her gaze met his, and something flared in them, something honest, like a flash of recognition. Hope warmed him head to toe in one glorious moment.
She released the door and moved away, the fat pug waddling after her. “You shouldn’t be here. Her grace is hosting a dinner party this evening, and all of the servants are busy.” She stopped by the bottom of the stairs and faced him, her arms crossed, her chin in the air. “But fine. You’re here and you’ve won your way inside. Just say what you came to say, but hurry; I don’t have a lot of time. I’ve things to do.”
On the drive here, Angus had silently practiced his speech over and over. He was going to calmly tell her that they’d both made errors – he far more than she – but the time had come to move beyond those errors. He would tell her to give him another chance – just one – and he would prove he was a different man, a better man, than the one who’d left all those years ago.
In his mind, it had sounded very compelling. But now, facing the mutinous line of her chin, and the very distracting way her full breasts were being pushed into her neckline over her crossed arms, he couldn’t remember a single word of his carefully prepared speech. Thus it was, given a chance to right his wrongs, all he could do was stare at her and think of how lovely she looked in the morning sun spilling through the windows.
She threw up her hands. “Just go. You can let yourself out.” She turned and marched down the hallway, the pug sending Angus a curious look before it waddled after her.
If the pug knew better than to quit, so did Angus. Cursing himself, he shut the front door, and then followed Charlotte down the hallway, catching up to her just as she turned the corner.
She gave a frustrated sigh on seeing him. “What are you doing?”
“I came all this way to talk to you and I’m not leaving until I do. I’d practiced it, you know. My speech. But I didn’t expect you to demand a command performance the second I entered the house.”
She stopped before a slender door and swung it open. “I don’t want speeches from you.”
“What do you want?”
Her gaze darkened. “I must fetch a punch bowl from the pantry for Margaret. Wait for me here.�
��
He glanced down the narrow, stone-lined stairs. “I’ll come with you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It will make your task go more quickly.” He was already halfway down the steps. “Where is the pantry?”
“Angus, just—”
But he was already in the kitchen.
Gritting her teeth, she dashed after him, the heels of her slippers clattering on the steps.
Randolph whined.
She stopped to look back at the dog. “I won’t be but a moment.”
The dog whined again, but plopped onto the floor at the top of the stairs as if he understood, his paws hanging off the top step.
Charlotte caught up with Angus at the bottom of the steps, whisking past him and into the kitchen. Tables and shelves lined the large, whitewashed room, while small bundles of fragrant dried herbs hung from exposed rafters and perfumed the air. The long tables were staged in preparation of the coming meal, small bags set here and there, some ingredients already measured and in cups, waiting to be mixed.
Charlotte pulled out the key and opened the pantry door. The room was dark, so she reached for the lantern that hung on a hook. “Since you’re here, you might as well be useful.” She handed the lantern to Angus. “Please light this.”
“Of course.” He took the lantern from her and went to light it.
While he did so, she squinted in the dark room and looked at the rows and rows of shelves, wondering which held the silver bowl. I should have asked for more directions.
Angus returned with the lamp, holding it high so that the golden light touched most of the room. They walked among shelves that held jars of marmalade and jellies, sacks of coffee, canisters of tea, wax paper wrapped delicacies, boxes of extra china, rows of glassware, and more. Along one wall was a neat stack of bagged flour, the empty bags piled beside it in a large heap.
“Good God, how will you find anything in here?”
An Encounter at Hyde Park Page 32