The McKenzie Brothers: Windemere Part 11

Mr. Morris raised his gla.s.s. "Here, here. I say we go inside and do exactly that, and let the women have their chatter out here."

Emma bit the inside of her cheek as disappointment flashed through her when Julian chuckled. "Sounds good to me. Although," he cast a sidelong glance down at her. "But I doubt anyone will question why I'm out here, talking with three beautiful ladies instead of being in there with a bunch of drunken ogres."

"Someone needs to be the voice of reason," Momma broke in, peering around the doorway as if looking to see what mischief Drew and Garrett might have stirred up already. "I keep hoping those two will outgrow some of their silliness, but I have the feeling some things will never be beneath them."

"It's once a year, Becca." Papa touched her shoulder. "And as long as they don't get hurt or burn the house down, they're fine."

Momma sipped her wa.s.sail. "I suppose you're right. And it is Christmas." Her brow furrowed, but quickly smoothed. "Have either of you seen Mary? I haven't seen her since we returned from church."

"I haven't seen her since I helped her get ready, but I don't know if she's come down." Emma spied Rose at the far end. "Will you excuse me, please? I need to go speak to Rose. Maybe she saw Mary when she came in."

Julian cleared his throat. "And I'll go ask ol' Georgie. He might have an idea. She couldn't have gone too far. Excuse me, Mrs. Morris, Mr. Morris. Captain and Mrs. McKenzie."

"Good luck, Mr. McCallister." Mrs. Morris smiled while her husband bobbed his head.

"If you'll excuse me as well." Emma hurried into the ballroom several strides behind Julian and crossed over to where Rose stood with her parents. She looked as she had that morning in church, as if she was about to vomit.

"Rose?" Emma nudged her gently with one shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

She sniffed. Her eyes were bloodshot, the skin around them somewhat puffy, as if she'd been crying all day. She dabbed at them with the lacy handkerchief clutched in one gloved hand. "It's been the longest few days of my life."

"Have you talked to him?"

She shook her head. "He doesn't want to talk, Em. He wants to jump into bed with that harlot." She jabbed a forefinger at Darcy Penrose, who was coolly beautiful with her pale blond hair, equally light blue eyes, and smooth ivory skin. "And I have a mind to load his drawers with coal embers."

Emma chuckled. "Do you think that will work?"

"I don't know, but it would be worth a try."

"And if she would go away, would you take George back?"

Rose slid her hand into Emma's. "Not here. Where can we talk? The music room?"

"No. I'm sure someone's going to want to sing something before the night is over, and it's too close, besides. The sewing room is our safest bet. Hopefully no one will look to sew any time tonight."

Emma steered Rose through the nearest side door out of the ballroom and down the hall toward the back of the house, where a small sewing room was tucked away. Even if the music room wouldn't eventually be overrun with merry-makers, the sewing room was more comfortable, with its well-padded chairs and sofas, all covered in floral chintz.

They settled on the sofa nearest the fireplace. Since there was always the possibility a dress would need mending, a small fire lay in the small grate to keep the room warm.

Rose sank onto the edge of the sofa cushion, taking care not to crease her silk skirts. "Em, I haven't slept or eaten in three days. Three days. Momma's going mad, thinking I'm going to die, and Papa can't decide if his gun will be strong enough to take George's head off or if it'll just leave a big hole in it, and he can't decide which he'd rather do. I've never seen them in such a state. They're making me insane with fussing over me so badly. And I'm not sure any man is worth all of this. Especially not George Hadley." Perhaps the handkerchief wasn't enough. Now the palm of her glove looked sodden, as though she used it to swipe at her cheeks.

Emma sat back. "So do you not want to try to work everything out with him now?"

"Work what out? There is nothing to work out." Rose rubbed her left eye with one fingertip. "Why should I want to marry a man who's made it plainly obvious he doesn't want me? He'd rather cozy up to Darcy Penrose, and that makes me sick. He makes me sick. If he wants her, if he wants to do that with her-" Her voice broke and she swallowed visibly against it. "She can have him, for all I care!"

Emma's guilt rushed back. If she'd only kept quiet about seeing George and Darcy-She stared at the fire, all the antic.i.p.ation she felt about the party dying away like one of the logs on the hearth. "I am so sorry, Rose. I hope you can forgive me."

Rose grabbed Emma's hand and squeezed. "Oh, no, please. Don't be sorry, Em. I'm glad you told me. It would have been worse to find out he'd been lying to me all along." She leaned her head back against the sofa and let out a heavy sigh that sounded as if it'd begun at her feet and worked its way free.

"But still..."

Rose shook her head so hard, the gold ribbons woven through her curls bounced. "No. There is no 'but still.' I'm glad you told me. Or at least I will be in time." Rose managed to smile, but it never reached into her eyes. "I know it doesn't seem like I will be now, but I will. One day I'll even laugh about this, I'm sure."

"I'm going to fix everything, Rose. I don't know how yet, but I will."

"No-" Rose shook her head "-please don't try to fix anything. I mean it when I say I don't want him any longer. Let Darcy have him. I no longer care. They are made for each other."

Emma bit the inside of her bottom lip. She wanted to wrap her arms around Rose and just hug her until her pain went away. Hopefully Julian would be able to talk some sense into George.

Chapter Eleven.

"OH, FOR CHRIST'S-" Julian bit back the rest of the oath when he rounded the corner by Captain McKenzie's office, and low voices floated out to greet him. And not just any low voices, either.

No, there they were-George and Darcy, by the windows, barely illuminated by the single candle flickering on the desk in front of them. Since they appeared as one silhouette, he only knew their ident.i.ties by their voices, although they quickly leapt apart when he cleared his throat.

"Oh my-!" Darcy pressed a hand against her bodice.

"What the-?" George snapped at the same time, glaring at Julian. "What are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same thing." Julian folded his arms over his chest, smiling at them. They were a sight, Darcy smoothing her wrinkled bodice with one hand while the flush in George's cheeks was visible even with the low light.

"I beg your pardon?" George retorted.

"Oh, there's no need to be angry," Darcy broke in. The hand that had pressed into her own bosom sliced through the semi-darkness to move to George's chest instead. "I'm sure Mr. McCallister will be discreet." A smile came to her lips, and she looked up at Julian through lowered eyelashes as she added, "Won't you, Mr. McCallister?"

Discreet. Julian almost laughed, but covered it with a cough. How funny, considering Darcy's reputation for spreading gossip. But since she appeared to be waiting for his answer, he nodded. "Far be it from me to ruin a lady's reputation."

George must have been holding his breath, for air left his body in a mighty rush and Darcy reached up to brush a wisp of George's thin brown hair away from his face with the same hand she'd been pressing into his chest. "You see, we've nothing to worry about."

"Nothing from me." Julian gestured in the general direction of the ballroom. "But someone in there might notice the lovely lady in red is amongst the missing."

Darcy's cheeks grew almost as red as her velvet gown. "Why, thank you for the compliment."

George cleared his throat. "Darcy-that is, Miss Penrose, shall I escort you back?"

She shook her head, tapping him with her fan. "If someone should see the two of us leaving..."

Her voice trailed off and George nodded. "No, it would be best to avoid that."

"Mr. McCallister-" she touched his arm with the tip of her fan "-I do hope you will ask me for a dance this evening. We've so much to catch up on." She peered up at him through lowered lashes again. Perhaps she thought it made her seem more coquettish.

So much to catch up on? What could they possibly have to catch up on? They weren't friends. "If your company isn't entirely monopolized, I will certainly ask."

She fluttered her eyelashes as she purred, "I look forward to it. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me."

Julian shook his head as she sauntered off, and when he turned back to George, it was to find him staring at her as if he wanted to pounce on her. He got George's attention quickly enough, however, by hitting him squarely between his shoulder blades with the flat of his hand.

George whipped about, his eyes narrowed as he snapped, "What the devil are you about, McCallister?"

Julian returned the glare. "Sneaking kisses in your host's office? With Miss Adams only a few steps away? Poor taste, Georgie. Very poor taste."

George's eyes resumed their normal shape, and he caught his neckcloth with a bent finger, as if it was suddenly too tight. "It's good of you not to say anything."

"Good of me? I'm not doing it for you, George."

"Yes, well, all the same-" George ducked his head and stepped around him. "Happy Christmas, Mr. McCallister."

Julian caught him by the shoulders, halting his stride. "Not so fast."

"What the-what're you doing?"

"I'd like a word with you. Regarding Miss Penrose."

"Not you, too." George shoved Julian's hands from his shoulders. "Why are you even here? I thought you normally made it a point to be anywhere but Brunswick for the holiday."

"Normally I do." Julian managed to keep his voice even, although the desire to throttle Hadley tore through him. This is what Rose wanted? To marry a man who could have his head turned by a tart like as Darcy Penrose, who would openly flirt with any man, no matter her surroundings? If it weren't for his promise to Emma to help her, he'd let George hang himself. In fact, he'd find ol' Georgie the rope. "But, as I said, I'd like a word with you."

George crossed his arms, glaring at him. "What's going on, McCallister? What did Miss McKenzie bully you into saying to me?"

Julian glanced down at the candle on the desk. He couldn't imagine choosing the captain's office for a tryst, although the desk was the perfect height and wide enough that he wouldn't have to worry about Emma sliding off it- "Are you going to answer me?"

Julian snapped back to George. "No one bullied me into anything, and if it weren't Christmas, I'd make you sorry you even suggested it."

George shuffled his feet and then took a step back as if afraid Julian was going to lunge at him, "What is it?"

"What're you doing, George? With Miss Penrose, I mean. You cannot honestly prefer her over Rose, can you? After all this time?"

"I'm sorry, but I hadn't realized this was any of your concern, McCallister. Did you and Miss McKenzie plot this, or are you both in the habit of poking your noses where they don't belong?"

"Honestly? I don't give a d.a.m.n if the two of you work it out, or if you decide you want to chase every female in town instead. But I'm here because I care if Rose is happy, and right now, how happy do you think she is?"

George flinched, but his expression remained hard.

Julian poked him in the chest. "She isn't that happy. So we need to right this, don't we? Because Miss Adams's upset has Miss McKenzie upset because she feels responsible. And you know how I feel about any one of the McKenzies being upset."

George blanched, but his chin rose. "Miss McKenzie shouldn't have said anything. What I do is also none of her concern, only she doesn't seem to realize that."

"Don't you get it, Georgie? She did what she did, and she did it out of loyalty and friendship. If you had no intention of asking Miss Adams for her hand, why not just say so? No good gentleman plays two rival ladies along. It's in poor taste, and you will end up the loser."

George's shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair. "I- because I don't know what my intentions are. I don't expect you to understand, McCallister. You of all people."

Without thinking, Julian grabbed two fistfuls of George's shirt and yanked him close until they were practically nose to nose. "What the h.e.l.l's that supposed to mean?"

"No one expects you to marry. No one expects you to bind yourself to one woman. No one is troubling themselves with what woman-what tart you decide to while away an evening with. So why should I expect you to know anything about my situation?"

"Come with me." Julian dragged him away from the desk and toward the doors. "You are talking to her, and you're fixing this."

"And if I don't?"

"Don't even test me, George."

George stumbled, but Julian didn't halt his stride. Instead, he opened one fist, and shifted to pull George along behind him. Enough was enough.

"You really are mad, aren't you?" George sputtered, tripping again-this time over the edge of the hallway runner.

"That's what they say," Julian retorted. "Are you sure you want to see just how mad I can be?"

People milled about in the hallway between the music room and ballroom, and Julian greeted several, all the while maintaining his hold on George. It earned them several wide-eyed stares, but he ignored them as he peered into the music room. No Emma.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, then turned to say to George, "You know, your situation is hardly complicated. Or it wasn't, until you had your head turned by a quick piece."

"Mr. McCallister!" George jerked his head toward the two couples staring at them from near the piano.

"Oh, are you afraid someone will hear me?" Julian jerked on his shirtfront to get him moving again.

"Well, you did promise-"

"And you know how reliable we mad men are."

"Yes, but-"

Julian tugged him around the corner and offered a silent prayer of thanks when he heard Emma's voice. If he spent much more time hunting for her, he'd have punched George just for the h.e.l.l of it.

As they neared the room at the end of the hallway, George said, "Is that all you see Darcy as? A quick piece? If so, then you're a fool." His words tumbled over each other as they spilled from his mouth. "She's a fascinating creature, McCallister. Your head would spin, knowing half of what she knows. She's bright and funny and she reads. Books, Mr. McCallister. Rose doesn't read. She cannot be troubled with turning pages or using her imagination. She'd rather sit and sew or paint."

"Frankly, I don't give a d.a.m.n." Julian stopped short right outside the door, which was ajar. "And if I were you, I'd shut my mouth now."

George twisted to break Julian's hold on him. "What are you doing?"

"You're talking to Rose if I have to knock you down and sit on you in there." He jabbed at the door.

"The h.e.l.l I am."

"The h.e.l.l you're not."

With that, Julian threw open the door and grabbed George by the elbow to shove him over the threshold. Rose and Emma sat with their backs to the door, and both jumped as the door slammed into the wall.

"McCallister, you-"

"Go. And don't test me."