“We shall find out.”
Sir Colin was a rather rotund man with a jolly disposition, ruddy cheeks, and a sparse shock of copper hair. He introduced himself as a resident of the next county over.
“What may I do for you, Sir Colin?” Amelia inquired warmly.
“Why, I have your order!” He beamed.
“What order?” Amelia asked, perplexed.
The man frowned, but he did not lose good nature. Instead, he excused himself to summon his companion, who followed him into the parlor while carrying a squirming deerhound pup beneath each of his arms.
Amelia clapped her hand over her mouth; Archie jumped up and squealed in joy.
Sir Colin retrieved the larger of the animals and handed it to Archie. “This one’s a braw lad; he’ll grow to be quite enormous,” he said with pride.
“I’d told Kempton I wanted a puppy—I thought he’d forgotten!” exclaimed her son, who then dissolved in a fit ofgiggles as the dog proceeded to lick every part of Archie’s face he could reach.
Amelia could not speak at first.
“Kempton?” she finally managed to croak out.
“Aye,” Sir Colin nodded and produced a paper from his pocket, proving that Dorian had purchased the new pups several weeks earlier, before they’d been weaned. “He heard I had a new litter of pups nearly ready for homes—knew they came from strong bloodlines.” Sir Colin’s barrel chest puffed out in pride. “Been breedin’ ’em for generations.”
Clara stood and put a hand on Amelia’s arm. “Should I have them take the dogs away with them?” she asked in a whisper. “Perhaps we could find them a new home?”
Amelia could not look away from the remaining pup, who stared at her expectantly from the other man’s arms. Slowly, Amelia shook her head, and Clara went to take the other puppy.
“No,” Amelia said, stopping her and reaching for the puppy herself. A female. Her long, slender tail wiggled tentatively in response to Amelia’s scrutiny as she held her aloft.
Amelia barely heard Clara thank the men as she ushered them from the room. She turned, and Amelia held the pup to her chest, feeling each of its oversized paws with careful awe. It licked the underside of her chin with its velvety pink tongue.
Clara scratched the pup behind the ears. “Such a sweet little thing she is.”
Amelia clutched the puppy close, feeling the full implications of the gift. Were she more hard-hearted—or smarter, she supposed—she’d see it as a ploy. The deepest part of her soul told her otherwise, and she crumpled to her knees as her tears finally came.
Chapter Fourteen
Dorian had spentthe weeks since his departure from Amelia’s home at another property half a day’s ride to the East. It was far enough from Edinburgh for the privacy he craved, but close enough that civilization was not unheard of. Brinley hadn’t questioned his desire for solitude, nor his unwillingness to face London; instead, he’d had given him directions to Holly House, a home he’d apparently inherited from a great aunt who’d once doted upon him. Dorian wanted no audience for his grief, so he had insisted upon the very barest of staff. Brinley denied that it would set back his journey to meet with his father and insisted upon accompanying him to see him settled. Though it was not immediately apparent why, Dorian soon found out on their first night.
The rooms hadn’t yet been aired out, and sheets still covered much of the furniture. Their valets had been forced to retrieve bare rations from an inn along the way so they might at least make it through until proper rations could be procured. There was a simple, hearty meal available, but Dorian opted for more liquid fare. Together, he and Brinley drank some good vintage brandy in silence, neither said much until the first couple of bottles were gone, their jackets had been removed, and their cravats hung loosely.
Dorian started chuckling, the crystal glass hanging precariously from his limp fingertips. Brinley eyed him,concerned despite the thick haze of inebriation clouding his judgment. Dorian began to pace none-too-steadily.
“I cannot believe what an imbecile I am,” Dorian groused. “How could I ever believe that Amelia could forgive me—that the truth of my terrible, disgusting plan would remain forever hidden?” He released an incredulous bark of cruel laughter. “I don’t bloody well know how it happened, but she and I were clearly never meant to be together.” He plodded through his rant, slow and slurred but continual, bemoaning his stupidity for putting himself in such a situation, his pure idiocy for ever thinking he could be near Amelia and not want to give her everything he had and all that he was.
Brinley remained silent until Dorian stopped for another drink. “So…you really did change your intentions once you arrived in Scotland?”
“Lord knows I fought it, but yes. There is just something about her. No matter how we hurt one another, I cannot stop thinking about her. I cannot prevent myself from wanting—needing—her in my life so painfully and desperately that I am unable to think of anything else. There is no ‘working her from my system’, there is no ‘moving past’ what she meant to me so I might finally have a real future. There is no future without Amelia.” He emitted a resigned sigh.
Brinley cursed beneath his breath and set down his glass. Rolling up his shirtsleeves, he said, “I suppose this is the only time to mention the truth—the spirits have destroyed my better judgment, and will probably dull any pain I am about to experience.” As Brinley explained that it was his fault that Amelia had discovered the plot—that he’d been disclosing the truth to Clara, of all people—Dorian remained silent and dangerously pensive. “And…there is something else you should know…” Brinley winced in anticipation. “For the sake ofcomplete honesty, and knowing the risk to my own neck, I must also tell you that I kissed Clara.”
There was a sudden, violent burst of drunken energy from Dorian. Glass shattered, and the men grappled. “You bastard!” Dorian snarled into the face of the man he’d once counted as his closest friend. “I trusted you, and you do this? What sort of betrayal is this? What have I ever done to deserve it?”
Dorian, more drunk than his friend, ended up pinned in the middle of the sitting room floor, though he never stopped thrashing.
“I’ve stuck by your side for decades, regardless of the circumstances,” Brinley growled. “I sincerely apologize for what happened with Amelia, but the truth would have come out eventually. If you truly desired a life with Amelia…then even you could not have started it under such pretenses. As for Clara…” Brinley trailed off for a moment before adding, “I am sorry. You do not know how bloody sorry I am.” Was Dorian drunker than he thought, or were there ghosts passing behind Brinley’s eyes?
The fight left Dorian all at once, but his friend did not release him yet.
