The McKenzie Brothers: Windemere Part 3

The urge to make everything right powered through Emma, and she threw her arms about Rose's shoulders to hug her. "Let me speak to him. Please, Rose. I caused this and I'd like the chance to fix it."

"No. It's a waste of time. I don't want a man who doesn't want me." Rose sniffed again and dug out her soggy handkerchief once more and dabbed at her eyes.

Amanda swished into the parlor bearing a silver tray laden with teacups, saucers, pastries, sugar, and cream. China clinked as she set the tray on the table and poured two cups of tea. But instead of her usual, "May I bring you anything else, while there is still something left?" Amanda said nothing, just left quickly as she'd entered.

Emma cleared her throat, and turned to find Rose dropping a lump of sugar into her cup. "Rose, please?"

The silver spoon tinkled against the cup's side as Rose slowly drew it through the tea. "I don't think it will do any good."

"But it can't hurt, can it?" Emma reached for the creamer and poured some into her cup. "And if it doesn't work, I've only lost time. And it's my time, so I don't care."

Rose continued stirring her tea, the movement almost mesmerizing in its slowness, her eyes still watery and red. She sniffed once more then nodded. "There's that, I suppose. It is only time."

Emma held back her sigh of relief, and her heart rose with optimism. George would listen to her. He had to. She managed to hold back her smile as she brought her cup to her lips. Before she sipped, she replied, "Everything will be fine, Rose. I promise."

Rose didn't look convinced, but she smiled weakly. "I didn't sleep at all last night, Em. And I feel so sick. How could he erupt like that at me?"

"Don't worry. I'll talk to him and straighten everything out." Emma patted her hand rea.s.suringly. "I'll pay him a visit right now. I a.s.sume he's in his office?"

Rose nodded.

Emma set her saucer on the table. "Well, then, I'm going to go dress and have Joseph bring the carriage around. I'll take you home so you can try to get some sleep. I will fix this mess."

Smothering a yawn with one hand, Rose nodded again.

Now Emma let her smile through. "Good. It's settled then. Try to stay awake until I return."

"Of c-course." Rose yawned again. Her eyes were dry now, and the smudges beneath them even more prominent due to their redness. She sank into the sofa's arm, rubbing her left eye. "I can't promise it, but I will try."

"Fair enough." Emma rose and hurried from the parlor, the floor still chilly beneath her bare feet.

As she pa.s.sed the front doors, they swung open and she yelped as Julian came inside. The cold wind swirled beneath her gown, puffing it up a little, but thankfully not enough to expose more than a hint of ankle.

"Mr. McCallister, I thought you were gone for the day. What're you doing here? I thought you planned to sail with the tides?"

"I did." Water droplets dripped onto his shoulders, and with a grunt, he ran both hands through his hair, shoving it away from his face. He grimaced as water trickled along his temples. "But it's freezing rain out there, and one of the mainsails was somehow torn sometime between yesterday and today. I'm taking it as an omen that I should remain on dry land for the time being."

As he spoke, he shrugged off his greatcoat and let it fall over one arm as he gestured to her with his free hand. "So where are you running off to today?"

"I'm not running off anywhere." She lowered her voice to add, "Rose is here. She and George had a terrible fight, and now I've got to fix what my big mouth caused."

A devilish glint flashed in his eyes. "Going to put the fear of G.o.d into ol' Georgie, aren't you?"

"You'd best believe it." She started up the stairs, then paused and turned back to him. "How bad is it out? I'd hate to ask Joseph to drive in bad weather."

Rain pattered loudly against the windows as if to offer up proof of just how awful the weather had turned. Still, Julian said, "It's pretty bad, but I'm going back to the harbor in a bit. You and Miss Adams are welcome to come along."

"Thank you."

"Always glad to be of a.s.sistance. Now, do I dare hope breakfast is laid out?"

"It was, but be warned, Mary's been up for a while, and according to Amanda, she is ravenous as usual, so there might not be much left. Help yourself. I'll be down soon." She turned back to the steps and hurried up to her chambers. In the hall, she found her maid, Lydia, coming from the opposite direction, and Emma paused long enough to snag her by the wrist. "Come, I need your help dressing. I need to go into town."

"Whatever for in such weather?"

"I have to speak with someone. And I need something warmer. My light blue morning dress will do nicely."

She managed to remain still as Lydia whisked off her dress and went to work wrestling Emma into her corset, lacing it tight, then attending to the rest of the process. By the time she was dressed, her impatience at wanting to leave made her shorter than usual when Lydia suggested a complicated coif.

"Now, why would I trouble with that when my hair will be ripped from its moorings in this wind. Just a simple plait, held with a blue ribbon, should suffice."

"Yes, Miss McKenzie." Lydia went to work with her comb and brush and thick velvet ribbon. She tamed Emma's frizz of black curls into falls of smooth black curls, wound through with the heavy blue ribbon.

Finally, Lydia stepped back. "There, Miss McKenzie. Will this do?"

Emma peered at her reflection and smiled. "It's fine, Lydia. Thank you. Now, where is my reticule?"

Lydia fetched it from the top of the chest by the mirror to press into her hand. Emma thanked her again, and then hurried to get back below before Julian decided to leave without her.

She rounded the corner into the parlor. "Mr. McCallister, I'm re-"

"Hush." Julian held a finger to his lips, and with his free hand, gestured to Rose, who lay curled on the sofa, sound asleep. "She finally gave in a few moments ago."

"She was up all night," Emma whispered. There were no quilts in the parlor, and despite the fire, Rose still looked cold. "Let me find something to cover her with. Then we can go. Is that all right with you?"

Julian nodded. "Very well."

"I'll be back in a moment." She made her way back upstairs, pa.s.sing her parents' chamber as her mother came out.

"And where are you off to?" Momma asked.

"Mr. McCallister is going to accompany me into town. I need to speak with..." Emma hesitated. Her mother wouldn't be happy to know she planned to meet with George, especially with Julian as her chaperone. It wasn't proper, no matter how one looked at it.

Still, as her mother's brows lowered, Emma decided the truth was her best ally, so she spilled the entire story about how Rose came to be asleep in their parlor.

Momma didn't look happy, but her forehead smoothed a little. "Are you certain this is any of your concern?"

"Momma, I just told you that the entire mess is my fault." Emma sank into the doorframe. "I have to fix it. Rose doesn't blame me entirely, but she will if George refuses to speak with her again. Please just let me go. Mr. McCallister will do as a chaperone."

"I don't know, Emma. I'd feel better if Amanda went with you."

The last thing she wanted was to have the silver-haired, fussy Amanda Hastings on her heels. Emma rolled her eyes. "Not Amanda, Momma. I'll never get anything out of George if the maid is with us. Even Mary would be preferable."

Momma's look told her plainly what she thought of that suggestion. Emma braced herself, waiting for her mother to insist on Amanda going with her. But, to her surprise, Momma shook her head. "Then you would do well to avoid the sewing room, with your sister." Momma frowned. "But I don't like it, you being out without a proper chaperone."

"I'll be fine, Momma. Mr. McCallister is like another brother. No one will even notice."

"I hope not." Momma rubbed her forehead and then turned to go back into her chambers.

Emma stayed where she was, tapping a fingertip against the wood doorframe.

Cloth whisked against cloth and she breathed a sigh of relief when her mother returned with the blue flowered quilt that normally lay draped over the old sea chest at the foot of the bed.

"Momma?"

"Take this to cover Rose and try not to be too long."

"I won't. Thank you." Emma took the quilt and hurried back below. Rose didn't move when she eased the quilt up to her shoulders. When she and Julian were finally tucked into the carriage, she found him grinning at her. "What?"

"I never knew such a nurturing streak ran through you."

She braced a hand against the chilly windowpane as the carriage swung wildly around the bend in the drive. "What's that supposed to mean? I've always been nurturing."

"With animals, yes. With people? Not usually."

"Oh, pish. You just think that because you've seen how I handle my brothers."

"I also remember a time or two when you handled me, and my poor, undeserving shins paid the price."

She made a face at him to hide the flash of shame. She didn't like to lose her temper in front of other people. Losing it in front of her family was bad enough, but when others witnessed it, that only made it more embarra.s.sing. "I'm sure you most definitely did deserve them."

To her surprise, his eyes softened. "And yet, the one time when I absolutely did, your foot never made contact."

She tilted her head to one side. "There was? I don't recall there ever being a time when I should have kicked you and yet I didn't."

"By the wishing well."

Her chill deepened. It was the first time either one of them had broached that afternoon, and until now, she always a.s.sumed he'd forgotten all about that what happened there. Unfortunately, that obviously wasn't the case. "Oh."

"I suppose I-" Before he could finish, the carriage rocked to a halt and Joseph pulled open the door.

"Mr. McCallister, we're at Dr. Hadley's office."

"I think I can manage this on my own," Emma said as Julian rose from his seat. "Besides, I'd rather not have an audience with George. Unless you're going to choke him until he agrees to take Rose back."

His faint grin faded. "No. Not a wise idea. Perhaps I should be there, to make sure nothing happens to him. Never mind, I'm supposed to be chaperoning you."

"Oh, bother that." She waved away his concern with an impatient hand. "I hardly need a chaperone for this, don't you think? Who's going to see me? And more importantly, who will care? Everyone knows I have no designs on him."

He still didn't look convinced. "Emma-"

"What? It'll be fine."

"Emma-"

"It will be fine. I promise I won't hurt him. Honest."

Her hopes rose as he rubbed his forehead with a gloved hand. "Very well. You win. I have some business needing my attention at the harbor, and I'll come by when I'm finished. If you wrap up here first, come find me at the Harrington Building." He heaved a heavy sigh. "This is a bad idea, Em."

"It's a fine idea. Who's going to know?" She reached over to pat his hand. "Everything will be all right, and I'll meet you when I'm finished."

"Very well."

She followed him out into the cold, tugging the cloak tighter still. George Hadley was Brunswick's most prominent physician, and his office was on the corner of Broad and Mercer Streets. The bell above the door tinkled merrily as she pushed it open. "Dr. Hadley?"

Chapter Four.

"YES?" GEORGE HADLEY'S SOFT VOICE floated up from the rear of the building. "Who's there?"

"Miss McKenzie."

She thought she heard a groan followed by an oath, but they were muted, so she wasn't certain. Still, there was no mistaking the displeasure in George's voice when he said, "I do not wish to discuss my troubles with Miss Adams with you. You've done quite enough, thank you." A chair creaked, floorboards squeaked, and George Hadley emerged from the shadowy back corridor, scowling. "So you might as well take your leave."

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to disappoint you, Dr. Hadley, for I am not leaving until you do talk to me."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" His shiny forehead creased and his dark eyes narrowed into angry slits. "Tell me one thing. Why the devil would you tell her about Miss Penrose?"

"Why the devil didn't you tell her? It would have saved both of us a lot of trouble, don't you think?" A mahogany desk, its surface meticulously organized, stood along the far wall and although two chairs stood between her and it, she perched on the desk's corner and folded her arms over her chest.

She tried to stare him down, the way her mother so skillfully pinned a body down until they confessed and apologized.

But her skills must need refining, for when George finally did meet her gaze, he didn't look at all sorry or as if he was going to apologize. And that made her want to kick him. Hard. Harder than she'd ever kicked anyone.

He didn't look sorry because he wasn't. Not one bit. He wanted to kiss Darcy. Chose to do it, the idiot. Couldn't he see what a fine woman he already had in Rose? And if he felt any guilt at all, he kept it tucked away behind an annoyingly blank stare.

She glared at him. "What were you thinking? I thought you loved Rose. I thought you wanted to marry her."

"I did."

"So why didn't you just ask her? That was all she wanted. How could you do something so-so low? So vile? Haven't you even a shred of dignity?"

George's eyes widened to expose their deep brown irises. His nostrils flared, going white at their edges, which made his pointy thin nose look even pointier. Then his lips pursed, which made him look as if he'd been sucking on a lemon. But then, the tension eased as he said, "I don't know why. I don't know why I did either of those things. But now, because I did do both, I'm at a crossroads. And the path I thought I was going to choose is no longer the one calling me."

He shuffled through the papers he held he held then set them on the desk. His shoulders slumped for a moment, but then he drew in a deep breath, and squared them again.

Her hands curled into tight b.a.l.l.s, and she swallowed hard, as if that might help crush the urge to do him bodily harm. Losing her temper would do neither of them any good. "Which one would that be?"

"Marrying Miss Adams." He met her gaze easily this time, and a hardness came into his eyes. If she had seen sorrow, or regret, in them, it vanished in a heartbeat. "Our betrothal was decided before she even learned to walk, before I even knew what marriage meant. All my life, I've accepted both of our families wanted us to marry. She wanted us to marry."

"But you don't?"