Page 69 of Taming the Heiress
He nodded and walked her toward a stately stone house surrounded by an iron fence. Light warmed the wide bay windows of the first and second levels of the house. "Let me go in with you," Guy said. "Let me help you in this."
"I must do this myself. Go back to Angela. Do not leave her alone in the coach. Stay with her. Stay with her always, Guy," she added fervently.
"I intend to, if she will have me," he murmured.
"She will," she said. "Love finds a way. Even when hearts have been bitterly broken, they can heal."
He gazed down at her, then tipped his hat. "Sound advice, my lady," he said. He opened the gate for her and turned, leaving her standing in the darkness and mist.
She walked through the gate, her heart slamming, hands clenching inside her gloves. This was the house where Dougal was staying with family while he was in Edinburgh. She glanced at the brass address plaque and saw the name beneath the engraved number:Doctor Connor MacBain.
A doctor's household would be accustomed to unexpected visitors, and it was not yet late, although the rain made the darkness deeper. She would have to endure the awkwardness of asking to see a gentleman alone, but she would do whatever she must in order to see Dougal. She could not let him learn about her identity in public at her soiree. She owed it to him, out of respect and love, to explain it herself in private.
Drawing a deep breath, she strode up the walk and climbed the steps. Wide flower beds edged the foundation of the spacious stone house. Bay windows on the first and second levels were hung with golden drapes, warm with light.
Reaching up to the small black bonnet she wore under her cloak's hood, Meg drew a swath of black netting over her face. Then she drew a deep breath and picked up the door knocker.
Moments later, a woman in a dark dress and white apron appeared, then stepped back immediately to bring Meg into the foyer. "Are you here for the doctor, miss? He has guests and is not seeing patients at this hour, but if 'tis an emergency, Dr. MacBain is always available."
The house was cozily warm and smelled fragrant with cleanliness and baking spice. Toward one side of the house, she heard the rattle of dishes, and elsewhere, the harmony of male and female voices mingled in conversation and laughter.
Clutching the hasp of her cloak with a gloved hand, Meg felt a keen yearning to be part of the warmth and comfort that was so redolent in this place. But she was an outsider. She was suddenly very glad for the protection of her veil.
"I have not come to see Dr. MacBain. I was told that Mr. Dougal Stewart is staying here. I... I have an urgent message for him, if he is here."
"Mr. Stewart, aye. Who is calling?" The housekeeper produced a silver salver to accept Meg's card.
Reaching into her glove where she always slid a calling card or two out of habit, Meg paused, reluctant to produce one. The name Lady Strathlin would cause a stir. "Please tell Mr. Stewart that Miss MacNeill is here to see him."
To the left of the hallway, panel doors slid open and a lovely dark-haired young woman in a brown silk dress glided toward her. "Hello, miss. May the doctor be of assistance?" She smiled and held out her hand. "I am Mary Faire MacBain. My husband is here—Oh, there you are, sir." She smiled.
A blond man, wide shouldered and dressed in shirtsleeves and a gray vest, appeared through the same doorway. "Who is it, my dear?" he asked, and then he saw Meg. He smiled and stood back to welcome her into the room.
"Miss, hello. I am Dr. MacBain. Please come in and tell us what we can do for you."
Everyone assumed that she was a patient in need. No one questioned her right to be here or acted as if proprieties were compromised. Meg felt grateful to them for their friendly acceptance, but she hesitated, feeling awkward and foolish.
"The young lady is here to see Mr. Stewart, sir," the housekeeper explained. "This is Miss MacNeill."
"Pleased to meet you, Miss MacNeill. But I'm afraid Mr. Stewart is not here. He has stepped out for a little while and did not say when he would be back. He has had a busy schedule of business appointments. Might I give him a message?"
Meg stared at them. "He is—not here?"
"Would you like to wait?" Mrs. MacBain asked. "We are about to have coffee. You are more than welcome to join us."
Through another set of half-open pocket doors, Meg saw a few others milling about engaged in conversation. If she waited here for Dougal, someone in the house might recognize Lady Strathlin.
"I—" Meg paused, looking back at the doctor and his wife. They regarded her kindly, with evident concern. The radiance of happiness and compassion shone in their handsome faces.
She would never have that, she thought, never. Not now.
"Miss," Mrs. MacBain said, "is there something we can do?"
Suddenly she felt lost, alone, and very unsure of herself. Wealth and social status meant nothing to her now. Dougal was not here, and she needed him very badly, needed his arms around her, needed the comfort of his voice, his calm wisdom and gentle humor, and the strength of his passion. She needed him to tell her that he understood. That he forgave her.
Not so long ago, he had asked for her forgiveness, had told her that he loved her and wanted to marry her—and she had not taken the chance then to tell him how much she loved him, had not taken the risk of explaining herself to him.
Now she was ready to do that, and he was not here. After the soiree, he might never be available to her again.
