Smitten by the Spinster (14 page)

As he continued to look at her interestedly, she adjusted her sleeves and hammered on, half wishing he’d grow bored and leave, and half wanting him to lean in even closer. It was really more like seventy five percent wanting him to lean closer, but a glance at Lady Amberly told her she needed to lean back.

“You probably know Catie’s grandfather was titled, which unfortunately didn’t transfer to her mum or Lady Amberly. Lady Amberly’s a lady also because she married a baron. Some of them are just courtesy titles or don’t pass down. And a title doesn’t always mean money.”

“How do ye keep up?” he asked, looking like he really wanted to ask why she cared.

She felt a little silly that she’d begun to take it so seriously, but it was quite a rush playing matchmaker, learning who was who and who had what, and always trying to grasp a little higher. It wasn’t as if she had television. Quinn didn’t seem to be looking down on her though, and Lizzie felt warmly toward him for not bringing up last night, for not questioning her about Solomon Wodge. She felt she could trust him.

“Honestly, it’s all a bit flummoxing to me. Here’s how I keep it straight for my girls.” She took a deep breath and began to recite. “A viscount is very good, and for an earl you may be eager, but a marquis is much better than either. If a duke’s interested, you’re done.”

The look Quinn gave her when she finished made her regret confiding in him and her stomach turned. She cursed herself for letting down her guard. Now he was sure to see through her and denounce her for the fraud she was.

Instead he burst out laughing again. His laugh was infectious but far too loud for the crowded sitting room, and every eye turned their way again, Lady Amberly’s distinctly narrowed. Before anyone could say anything, Quinn stood up, quickly taking all the scrutiny off of her.

“It’s a verra nice day, far too pleasant to stay indoors,” he said as imperiously as any duke.

Lizzie had to hold in a shiver at his commanding presence and saw that Lady Amberly and Edwin’s mother blinked at his brightness, their jaws practically in their bosoms.

“Shall we take a turn in my carriage?” Oliver asked, earning him a look of approval from Catie and a dire glance from Edwin, who had been the original carriage offerer.

“A brilliant suggestion, lad,” Quinn boomed. “We shall be grateful to take ye up on that offer, shall we not, Catie?”

Catie hurried to agree and ran off to change while Oliver left to give orders to ready the carriage. Edwin and his mother tutted and fluttered, not sure they were invited, and consternation over Quinn’s and her coziness from a moment before was forgotten.

Lizzie marveled at his ability to so easily deflect their attention and wondered how he’d gotten so good at such a skill. As she passed by him to gather her shawl and hat, he turned so their hands brushed, feather light but anything but accidental, a definite gleam in his eyes.

The  Hollingsborn estate was absolutely lovely, the lake positively glistened in the early afternoon sunlight, and the little rowboats with the brightly dressed guests paddling through the gently rippling water added to the peaceful, charming scene. That Catie could one day be the mistress of this place didn’t cheer her one bit.

Her mood over the last week hadn’t been close to peaceful, and it was a strain to continually act charming to everyone around her. Ever since she’d read the terrible letter from her brother Lachlan, and seen the frightening, confusing instructions hidden under Miss Burnet’s bed, she’d been watching Quinn and her chaperone like a hawk.

The first morning after her spying activities, all the distressing information barely sorted in her mind, she’d decided she needed to pretend she hadn’t learned any of it. She shouldn’t have gone snooping around, and it served her right to be upset by things she didn’t understand, and clearly wasn’t supposed to know about.

But when Miss Burnet and Quinn started whispering to one another, noses practically touching, all while continuously glancing her way, she’d become paranoid and angry. She was done being lied to and kept in the dark. Something was definitely sinister about Miss Burnet’s letter. The intense and specific instructions were very different from the scary mish mash of chants and blood-letting she’d read in Lachlan’s letter but both their intents were the same. To travel to the future.

It was madness, but the fact remained that her brother was gone. Missing. She’d been told he was killed, but now all evidence said that wasn’t the case. The one thing she knew about her oldest brother Lachlan was that he valued responsibility above all else. He constantly berated Quinn about his lack of it, and always tossed in a few sermons to her on the occasions they were together.

If the madness about traveling to the future was true, and it made her dizzy to entertain the notion, then her brother was in trouble. There was nothing short of death that could make Lachlan leave his family and all the people who counted on his decisions, in the hands of Quinn.

Quinn gambled too much, was a bit loose with women, raided around the countryside and forgot birthdays— really the list of reasons not to put him in charge of a henhouse was longer than the road to London. To put him in charge of their clan had to be nothing short of desperation. Something worse than death.

Catie rubbed her sleep deprived eyes when a sudden gust of wind almost knocked her into the lake from the little dock she stood on. She realized she’d been obsessing again, holding her breath and tensing her muscles, probably pulling an unpleasant face on top of it all.

Edwin looked at her quite oddly and she forced herself to relax and smile. She shook out the fishing line she held and tried a tinkling laugh she copied from a popular girl she’d met at a different party a few nights before. In truth, she was exhausted from all the smiling and laughing and dancing. She knew Edwin was only after her money. She’d found out from listening to gossip just exactly how much she was worth, another log to throw onto the rage fire she’d been stoking against her brother. Why couldn’t he be honest about anything?

“I canna believe how terrible I am at fishing,” she said, trying not to roll her eyes. “Am I doing it right?” As if she didn’t regularly bring home supper, whether it be fish or fowl or even a deer. She was a very good hunter and fisherwoman, but she once again copied what she saw the other girls do, which was act like they couldn’t do anything, all to make their chosen target feel important.

Edwin smiled kindly and adjusted her stance for her, helping her recast her line. She tried to shake away her bitter anger. Edwin was no worse than anyone she’d met, and he seemed sincerely nice in most things. She didn’t respect him, having sussed out that he was in debt due to his own shortcomings, but she couldn’t blame him for trying to salvage his estates and family’s name, even if it meant marrying her without loving her. It made her unaccountably sad to be an heiress, because once she figured out what to do about Lachlan, she truly wanted to fall in love and be married. But due to her fortune, she’d never be sure if a man really loved her or only wanted to pay off his debts.

She thought of Oliver, who wasn’t at the Hollingsborn estate that day, and smiled her first real smile in more than a week. Edwin smiled back and nodded encouragingly, pointing to some fish he saw swimming under the water. Well, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to let him think Oliver’s smile belonged to him.

If anyone seemed interested in her for herself, it was Oliver. It was probably because he counted himself too young to marry just yet, so viewed her only as a friend. The strolls they took under the hateful eyes of Miss Burnet and Quinn were full of lively conversations about everything from animals to world travel. He surprisingly thought it was quite fascinating that she came from so far away, and earnestly assured her he wanted to visit Scotland some day. He’d even gone so far as to shyly hint he was interested in seeing her far northern farm, and her aunt’s land that was closer to the coast.

Even with Oliver, who was the easiest person to be around, she had a hard time concentrating on anything other than what really happened to Lachlan. She wanted desperately to talk about it to someone, try to get another point of view, but knew she’d be seen as mad. She longed to ask Quinn straight out what really happened, see if he flinched at all. He was such a seasoned liar, she knew she wouldn’t bother trying.

Edwin cleared his throat uncomfortably and she noticed that the object of her scorn was striding toward them, Miss Burnet on his arm, as usual. In any other circumstance, Catie would have been sure they were just having a flirtation, but since she’d seen the letters, she’d done the simple addition necessary to figuring out that her brother hadn’t hired her chaperone by chance. Using all her dwindling energy to make her face pass for pleased, she greeted Quinn and Miss Burnet.

“Have ye not caught anything yet, lass?” Her wicked brother asked, outing her usefulness.

He then further mortified her by towering over Edwin, causing his face to go purple, and probably gripping his hand too tight. Did he want her to get married or not? It would serve him right if she married someone he hated. To be contrary, she moved closer to Edwin. When she caught Miss Burnet’s eye and saw her knowing smile, she had to tamp down her anger. She’d been fooled by Miss Burnet’s so-called kindness for exactly the amount of time it took her to figure out she was probably involved in Lachlan’s disappearance and definitely involved in time traveling, then she hadn’t trusted her one bit.

“Edwin is teaching me,” she said, her voice laced with syrupy sweetness. Quinn raised a brow, and she couldn’t be sure if it was due to her tone or the fact that she’d boldly used Edwin’s first name. “I’m sure I’ll catch something eventually.”

“Even if she doesn’t, we’ll still have a fine dinner,” Edwin said, trying to be funny.

Catie did her new tinkling laugh, which turned into a real one at Quinn’s look of horror. She could tell he wanted to shake her and ask her where the real Catie’d got to, and part of her wanted him to. The part of her that wished she was still just a Scottish farm girl, that wished she could still trust her brother. She had to look out at the lake to keep anyone from seeing her eyes well up. Thankfully another harsh gust of wind blew past so she could blame her watering eyes on that if she had to.

Miss Burnet grabbed Quinn’s arm to keep from being swept into the lake. The wind had really picked up and Catie could see some black clouds rolling in from the north. Perhaps they were from Scotland.

“My goodness,” Miss Burnet said. She was really quite good at being a damsel in distress, clutching at Quinn’s arm and leaning into him. “Perhaps we should go indoors.”

Catie couldn’t help but take notes, and when the next gale blew past, she tottered and grabbed Edwin’s sleeve, half hating herself and half having fun. Edwin was handsome in his blond, green-eyed way, with nice broad shoulders. The arm she now held onto as if for dear life was firm under her hand. And it didn’t hurt that Quinn looked like he wanted to pry her fingers off and toss Edwin into the now churning waves of the lake.

“Aye, it’s going to let loose any second now,” he said, glaring at Edwin.

Edwin waved around at the others who were fishing, pointing up at the house. The rowers were being tossed around as they furiously made their way back to the dock. If Catie’s dark mood hadn’t surpassed the storm, she might have been a bit alarmed at the sudden squall.

They were soaked nearly to the bone by the time they were half across the huge lawn, and Edwin kept a tight hold on her hand so she wouldn’t slip. By the time they made it to the covered terrace, they were drenched, and turned to watch the stragglers trying to fight their way through the torrent.

Catie and the other ladies of the party huddled, shivering and wringing out their skirts, until a few maids came to show them upstairs, herding them into different bedrooms and promising towels and hot water. Miss Burnet helped her out of her dress and wrapped her in a dressing gown before wrestling herself out of her own sodden clothes. Catie took pity on her and helped with the laces.

“I’ve lived in England my entire life, and I’ll never cease to be amazed at how horrid the weather can turn,” Miss Burnet said, peeling off her shift and putting on another dressing gown. They spread their clothes in front of a newly stoked fire.

“Aye, Scotland’s quite the same,” Catie said miserably. “Are we trapped here for the night, do ye think?”

Miss Burnet swiveled around and looked at her, confused. “Aren’t you having a good time?”

She sounded so concerned, it almost hurt Catie’s heart, so wanting things to be the way they seemed. She would have given anything for Miss Burnet to truly like her and want the best for her, and not be involved in some strange plot to keep Lachlan away.

A sudden idea wrenched its way into her jumble of theories. What if Miss Burnet were trying to help get her brother back? Those instructions were to get her to the future, which was presumably where Lachlan was. Perhaps Miss Burnet was trying to rescue him.

Catie’s moods had been swinging so violently the past week, she barely knew up from down, and this new thought that struck her hit hard, knocking her for a loop. Every thought she’d had lately bordered on the kind of madness that got one locked away. Deep down she had the niggling fear she had created a fantasy because, as horrible as it was, it was better than Lachlan being dead.

“Catie, sweetheart, are you all right? You’re quite pale.” Miss Burnet reached out and felt her brow, the last straw.