Page 17 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
Duncan glanced past Miss Bradbury. “Where’s your mistress?”
“She said she would meet us in the yard.”
He exhaled. At least this would be the end of the distractions, and they could get back on the road. It wasn’t as though he disliked learning how to make pastry, but it had nothing to do with reaching their destination, and it made little sense that they’d spend time doing anything other than trying to get to Nottinghamshire.
Sounds of music and singing came faintly from outside, and he recalled that the town’s harvest procession would be happening shortly. Hopefully, they could avoid the worst of the traffic and get out of this place quickly.
Gesturing to the door, he said politely, “After you, Miss Bradbury.”
They reached the yard, where Wiggins, Green, and the carriage awaited them. There was no sign of Lady Farris, however.
“Have you seen the countess?” Duncan asked thecoachman after peering into the vehicle and finding it unoccupied.
“Thought I caught a glimpse of her, sir,” Wiggins answered. “But she hasn’t come by.”
Duncan paced back to where Miss Bradbury waited. “Where the deuce could she be?”
“I think I know,” the companion said with a small smile. She pointed toward the street that ran past the yard.
Noise from the procession grew louder, and he turned to see townsfolk in wheat-covered hats pass by. Some played fiddles and fifes, whilst others sang and twirled streamers in the air.
Duncan’s heart pitched. Lady Farris walked with them, her bonnet traded for one of the straw hats, and joining in the song as she, too, waved a stick adorned with ribbons. Her smile was wide, and even from this distance, it was clear to see the joy in her eyes as she took part in the procession.
“What in Hades is she doing?” he muttered.
“Enjoying herself,” Miss Bradbury said. Her gaze was fond as she watched her employer march past. Lady Farris smiled and waved at them as she continued on.
He could only watch her go by, mystified, and also... quietly... envious. She did look as though she was having a wonderful time, fully immersing herself in yet another experience. What would it be like, to simply wish something for himself and then make it happen?
And yet— “It’s notdone,” he burst out. “You don’tjust decide to join a harvest procession on a whim. She doesn’t even live here. This makes no sense.”
Miss Bradbury gave him a sympathetic look. “Major McCameron, you must understand that there’s a purpose to her actions.”
“Not that I can comprehend,” he said.
“It’s not my tale to tell,” the companion said softly. “But believe me when I say that she has earned every moment of frivolity and happiness.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Perhaps all of us have.”
He continued to watch the procession and the parade of people in their festive hats, brightening the air with their multicolored ribbons. His gaze returned again and again to the countess and the smile she wore, so exuberant, completely lacking in self-consciousness. Something tugged in him, an urge that began in the middle of his chest and surged lower, coursing down his legs.
One of his feet moved in the direction of the stream of townsfolk. He stared down at it, mystified. Was he... was he trying to join the countess? It was as if his lower body acted without receiving any command from his head. As though heneededto be part of the festivities.
The only parades he’d marched in had been of the military nature. Those had possessed purpose. They were significant and had an objective. No logical reason why he’d want to be a part of this local harvest procession for a place where he didn’t reside...
Except there was that tug again. Made all the stronger by the expression of pure delight on Lady Farris’s face.
Join her.
He glared down at his feet. Instead of heading toward the procession, he turned his back to it.
“I’ll wait by the carriage,” he said to Miss Bradbury, grinding out his words. Regret at his rudeness jabbed at him as he marched away. Yet watching the countess indulge her own need for happiness, regardless of rules, frayed at his temper. She did whatever she desired—and somehow, the universe continued to function without spinning into chaos.
He couldn’t be sure what would happen if he did the same. The prospect unsettled him, just assheunsettled him. As he approached the carriage, he vowed that he’d hold even tighter to the rules that gave his world much-needed structure.
Because it was far too troubling to consider the alternative.
Something had unsettled Major McCameron. Since they’d gotten underway, he’d kept his words to a minimum, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the passing landscape.
His humor wasn’t her responsibility, and yet it was clear he was troubled.
