Page 81 of Taming the Heiress
"Aye." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a linen-wrapped packet, the cloth and its ribbon a little rumpled from much handling. "I came only to give Lady Strathlin this." He pulled an envelope from his other pocket and added, "And this." He handed both to Mrs. Shaw. "If you could see that she gets these, I will be on my way."
"Thank you, Mr. Stewart. But Lady Strathlin is at home and would be happy to see you."
Though it might be a social victory to be welcomed by the lady, he had no desire to see her. He could not trust himself to maintain the cool distance that he needed when he was near her.
He could have sent the package with a note, but something had urged him to bring it here, some desire to see where she spent much of her time, so that he would better understand her.
But he did not want to see her again.
"Thank you, Mrs. Shaw," he said, inclining his head. "Actually, I am quite rushed today. Please see that Lady Strathlin gets the package, and give her my best regards." He tipped his hat again.
"Very well, Mr. Stewart, if you are certain," Mrs. Shaw said quietly. He saw a flash of sympathy in her pretty eyes, and gentle friendship. In other circumstances, in other worlds perhaps, he would have liked her very much and would have welcomed her as a friend. He would have learned more about Meg from her, for he was sure that the two young women were devoted friends.
"Aye, I'm sure, madam." He smiled and turned away, expecting the ubiquitous butler to materialize and open the paneled door.
Instead, he heard a rustling of skirts, and a graceful figure emerged from the shadows behind a tall potted palm. She came forward from a downstairs doorway that adjoined the foyer.
"Mr. Stewart," Meg said, resting her hands on the full skirt of her blue-and-green plaid satin dress, which buttoned primly to a white lace collar that matched her white half sleeves. The effect was elegant and modest, even to the demure wings of golden hair piled into a black net. She regarded him calmly.
"Lady Strathlin," he said. "I did not mean to disturb you, madam. I came only to return something to you."
Mrs. Shaw stepped forward and handed the linen-wrapped package to Meg, who nodded silent thanks. "Mr. Stewart," Meg said, "we cannot talk here. Please come this way." She turned.
"I'll see that you're not disturbed, madam," Mrs. Shaw said from somewhere in the shadows of the hallway.
Dougal did not want to talk, but he had no polite choice other than to follow. Leading him behind the potted palm, down a hallway and through an open doorway, Meg ushered him into a library and closed the door behind them.
Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, a vast array of leather spines organized on oak-and-brass shelves. The room was bright and warm, filled with sunshine from tall windows draped in golden brocade, the floors covered in thick rugs patterned in blue, gold, and rose tones. Noticing the painting over the mantelpiece, he knew that Meg had chosen it, for the seascape was recognizably Innish Harbor on Caransay, commissioned, no doubt, of some renowned painter. Altogether a beautiful room, he thought, that reflected its owner perhaps more than she knew.
"You told me once that your grandfather had left you his library," he said. "You never said it was on this scale."
"If I had, you would not have spoken to me afterward."
"I am speaking to you now," he pointed out.
She looked down at the cloth-wrapped package in her hand and untied the ribbon, peeking at her leather journal. "There was no need to return this to me. I meant for you to have it."
"Open the envelope," he directed.
She broke the waxen seal and extracted a piece of paper, reading the contents. "A... cheque?"
He nodded soberly. Ever since he had learned about her fortune, he had been unsure how she would react to what he had done and to the publisher's modest sum. "I met with Mr. Samuel Logan at Chambers Street Publishers. He is an acquaintance of mine, so I took the liberty of showing him your journal. He was entranced and found it remarkable and unique. He'd very much like to publish your work, if that's agreeable to you. He'd like to call itA Hebridean Journal,by—"
"By M. MacNeill," she breathed, reading the letter as he spoke. "I—I do not know what to say."
He shrugged. "Do what you will with the offer. At the time, I did not realize... your circumstances." He glanced around the elegant library. "The money will mean little to you, I'm sure, but at the time, I thought... well, I thought you might be pleased." He twisted his deuced hat like an embarrassed schoolboy and felt an urge to flee. Until now, he had not thought about Lady Strathlin's reaction to the publishing offer. He had imagined only Meg MacNeill's delight.
"I am very pleased. Thank you, Mr. Stewart," she said softly, and she unwrapped the bulky leather journal, laying it on the gleaming surface of a nearby table and setting the bank draft beside it. She sniffled, and then Dougal realized that tears were slipping down her cheeks.
"Here," he said awkwardly. "I did not mean to offend. If you do not care to bother with this, I will send back the cheque."
She shook her head with a little watery sob. "No, I am... so very touched," she said, the last word wobbling. "I never thought that my little journals had much worth other than as a hobby. I had always dreamed about it, but did not believe... but you did believe in me... and my work," she said, her voice rising and cracking with tears, "and you took the time to show them to someone. You cared about it," she added. "Truly cared."
"Of course I did," he said. God, he wished she would not sob so. It made him want only to pull her into his arms and hold her. And he could not allow himself to feel that way. "There is no need to cry about it. I... know it is a silly wee sum."
Her face crumpled at that, and she sniffled loudly, tears streaming fresh. She touched the cheque with slim fingertips. Dougal wanted to reach out to her so desperately that he bunched the brim of his hat in one hand.
"But it is the first silly wee sum I have ever been given for myself," she said, gulping tears.
