Page 78 of Taming the Heiress
"He asked." she whispered. "I am considering. He did me no harm. Let him go."
The silence then was tense and brittle. Dougal kept his grip tight, his posture confining, while he clearly seethed. He did not look at Meg.
"Mr. Stewart," Sir John Shaw said, walking toward them. "Sir Frederick has had a bit too much wine, I think. He meant no harm. He's a good lad, Mr. Stewart, and cares for the lass—for Lady Strathlin very much. If you please, sir. Let him loose."
Suddenly, Dougal let go and stepped back.
Tugging at his coat, Frederick glanced at the onlookers and then glared at Dougal. "You will regret this, sir."
"I believe you will be the one to regret it, should you ever threaten this lady again." He flickered his eyes toward Meg, then fastened his glare on Frederick again.
"Our business agreement, sir," Matheson growled, "is at an end. I withdraw my offer."
"So be it." Dougal tugged at his shirt cuffs.
"Madam," Frederick said, "we will continue our discussion at some other date. I am grateful and flattered that you desire so fervently to marry me—"
Meg gasped. "Sir, I did not—"
He held up a hand. "I understand if you feel embarrassed. Ladies should not indulge in more than a glass or two of wine. It sets their heads to reeling. Nevertheless, I am honored. But after this evening, I must reconsider my proposal, in light of your appalling misconduct."
"Sir, I have never misconducted myself!"
"No?" Frederick murmured. "Not even once, long ago?"
She gasped. Dougal stepped between them, indicating that Frederick should say no more. Meg prayed that Dougal did not guess Frederick's reference, and prayed equally that Matheson would never learn the identity of her little son's father.
"Good night. An excellent party, otherwise." Matheson gave a curt bow and turned. The crowd by the door parted, and he walked through, shouldering past Guy Hamilton.
Guy gave him a dull blow to the stomach with his elbow, enough to make Matheson grunt and turn toward him.
"I beg your pardon," Guy said. "Are you inviting me to spar with you, sir?"
Frederick muttered under his breath and left, storming through the conservatory and out the front door. Meg heard it slam even from where she stood in the darkened garden.
Dougal stood near her, watching as the remaining gentlemen took their leave of her. He said hardly a word, nodding his thanks and farewells. She was grateful for his silent presence. Her limbs still shook so that she did not feel ready to walk back to the house as yet. Relieved to see the last few guests leave without ceremony, she was glad for now just to stand in the dark, quiet garden, in the moonlight, with Dougal.
She glanced at him when they were alone. "Dougal—"
He inclined his head. "Lady Strathlin, thank you for a pleasant evening. Apart from the last few minutes, it has been enjoyable."
"You're leaving?" she asked, her voice quaking.
The smile that played at his mouth was the small, private, fond smile that she had missed so very much. Seeing it made her heart surge, filled her with warmth, made her want to cry.
"I cannot stay," he said. "Madam." He bowed and turned, striding through the garden.
She picked up her gown to follow him. "Dougal, please."
He opened the door for her, and waited while she stepped into the shadowed conservatory. She could hear the chink and clatter as servants gathered the dishes and glasses inside the house, and Mrs. Larrimore directing the maids.
"Please," she said, and laid her hand on his arm. "Do not go. Not yet." She watched him in the darkness, the air around them heavy with the scent of roses and gardenias, with earth and stone. Heavy with need, desperate for forgiveness.
He looked down at her. "What would you have me do, madam?" he asked, leaning close in the shadows. "Stay with you?"
"Yes," she said breathlessly. "Yes."
Chapter 20
