Smitten by the Spinster (15 page)

Catie dissolved into pathetic tears. “I miss my brother, Lachlan,” she admitted, too tired to make anything up. Because she was so tired, she let Miss Burnet hug her. “He was a bit stony-hearted, but I did love him.”

“Oh, poor dear,” she said, patting her hair as she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’d like to take a wee nap, if ye think I may?” Catie never knew what would be frowned upon.

Miss Burnet hustled around her, turning down the blankets on the bed and fluffing the pillows. “Certainly. They can’t expect us back downstairs any time soon,” she said, pointing to their damp clothes. She patted the mattress. “Come along and lie down. I shall make myself very small in the corner and not make a peep.”

“Thank ye, Miss Burnet,” Catie said, letting herself be tucked in like a wee child.

Her eyes burned from her many recent sleepless nights and the tears that hadn’t quite stopped yet. As she rested her head against the cool, smooth pillow, she thought Miss Burnet might take pity on her and tell her something comforting, perhaps something truthful that would give Catie a bit of much needed hope. But she merely stroked her hair for a moment before settling quietly in the corner armchair like she’d promised.

Lizzie curled into a plushly upholstered chair and pulled the dressing gown tighter around her legs, wishing there was something she could do for Catie. She felt clumsy in her awkward attempt to pat her hair and pull the blankets over the weeping girl, remembering how despondent she’d been in the months after her grandmother had died. Some days things would seem normal and some days the grief would pile on her like a rockslide, or just trip her up like an unexpected bump in a sidewalk and make it feel impossible to carry on. And you never knew which it would be or when it was coming.

Something might have made Catie suddenly remember her brother, or maybe she’d been fighting her sadness for days. She’d seemed different lately. Her change started sometime after the first ball, and Lizzie feared someone might have said something untoward to her, but the mood had lingered. Catie had gone from a bright, vivacious and curious girl to someone acting like that person. And not doing a very convincing job of it, Lizzie thought wryly. It took an actor to see through someone else carrying on a front, and Catie was doing just that.

Of course, now it all made sense. As far as Lizzie knew, Lachlan Ferguson had died fairly recently, and now Catie was thrust into a completely foreign situation. And it all came crashing down on her all at once. Lizzie resolved to speak with Lady Hollingsborn at the first opportunity. There was no reason to continue making Catie go to party after party if she was firmly engaged. Lizzie herself would feel better knowing Catie’s future was assured when she went back to her own time.

She turned her gaze from her fitfully sleeping charge and rested her eyes on the fire. Less than two weeks and she’d be home. She prayed and hoped and crossed her fingers. Once she got back, it was going to be a mess trying to explain her disappearance, but she’d find a way. The thought of the press that would surely be involved turned her stomach, but the publicity, no matter how unpleasant, would hopefully help her find a new job. For a moment she couldn’t help wondering what had happened with her last big audition for that action movie, and who got the role she wanted, who the leading man ended up being.

Foolishly, her mind wandered to Quinn. The ultimate leading man, and perfect action hero to boot. She blushed at her idiocy and tried to veer back onto more practical thoughts, but couldn’t help feeling a sense of calm when Quinn crossed her mind. If Lord Ashford couldn’t get her home, would it be so very awful if she got to spend more time with Quinn?

Her heart thudded nearly to a halt. Yes, it would be so very awful and she needed to stop being so fanciful. This wasn’t her time and she didn’t belong here. Her hopes and dreams were all left in the twenty-first century and she’d never be truly happy in this time, regardless of any brawny Scot and his deep blue eyes.

A soft knock made her jump out of the chair and run to open it before they knocked again and woke Catie. She opened it wide, thinking it would be footmen with hot water, and quickly shut it all but a crack when Quinn stood in the doorway, wearing some very ill-fitting but dry clothes, his hair still slightly damp and tousled. Her fingers curled in the fabric of her robe, wanting to smooth the disheveled locks. She groaned out loud.

“That happy to see me?” he asked and she shushed him, opening the door a bit wider and nodding at Catie’s sleeping form.

“She’s resting,” Lizzie said sharply, still irked at herself for getting thrown every time she saw him.

He raised a brow. “Worn out from all the flirting, no doubt,” he grumbled.

Lizzie sighed, glanced down at herself and seeing that she was as covered as she could be, pushed him back into the hall and followed him out, hoping no one else would be around. He too gazed down her body, smiling a little at her stocking feet. She blushed, highly doubting he was scandalized, and gave him her best spinster stare.

“Actually, she’s quite distraught.”

Quinn’s mocking smile instantly turned to concern. “What is it?” he asked, ready to push past her into the room.

She held out her hand, meeting his chest with her palm. The solid muscle under her hand almost made her forget what she was about to say to him.

Frowning, she dropped her hand. “She misses your brother.”

He deflated and took a step back, his blue eyes full of their own sadness. “Ah, poor wee thing.” He paced a step and then turned. “I dinna think we’ll be able to leave this evening as we planned. It’s still raining and apparently the road back to town is easily flooded. That’s what I came to tell ye,” he said. “Young Lord Hollingsborn is going on about the festivities he’s going to have for us tonight since we’ll have to stay. Music and cards and such.”

“She’ll be all right by then. A bit of sleep will fix her right up.”

He frowned at her. “If she doesna want to come down, I dinna think we should make her.”

His concern for Catie felt dangerously close to melting her icy heart and she hurriedly backed toward the bedroom door. “I’ll tell her of course,” she stammered, slipping into the safety of the room. “I shall keep you informed.” She didn’t want Catie to be further distressed, but she so wanted to sit next to Quinn and listen to music.

He smiled at her, knowingly or teasingly, either way it made her heart pound. Then he bowed his head before retreating. “I thank ye, Miss Burnet.”

She carefully closed the door, barely making a click, and turned to find Catie still fast asleep. She turned the clothes and laid them closer to the fire, hoping that Catie felt well enough to go down later. For the first time in more than a year, she looked forward to something. She only had a little less than two weeks left here and she wanted to spend it with Quinn.

***

Quinn thundered back to the room he’d been given, his mood as bleak as the weather. It was bad enough the clothes he’d borrowed were too tight everywhere, and now he’d have to spend more time than they’d planned at the simpering Lord Hollingsborn’s estate. The man wasn’t good enough by miles for Catie and he didn’t understand why she fell all over him. Really, none of the lads he’d met in the past weeks were good enough. The young neighbor, Oliver, was the only one he came close to liking, but Miss Burnet assured him he wasn’t interested in marriage yet.

He reminded himself, it wasn’t him that had to like them, it was Catie. And she clearly saw something in Edwin Hollingsborn. It fairly turned his stomach, but he resolved to be civil to him that evening, maybe even endeavor to get to know him. He was always being told he intimidated people, which he really didn’t mean to do most of the time. He couldn’t help how tall he was, the same as Catie couldn’t help having a rich mother. Both blasted inconveniences.

In his room, he shook out his clothes and hung them up as close to the fire as he dared, so they’d be dry in time for dinner and the festivities, if Catie felt well enough to go down for them. He had a double blast of guilt, because he really wanted to spend the evening in the company of the fair Miss Burnet, and because it was half his fault Catie was grieving Lachlan. Half, because he might have told her the truth. Even though Catie would never get to see Lachlan again, it was a far sight better than believing him dead.

The other half rested squarely with Lachlan and the damn fool thing he had gone and done. There seemed no way to tell her the truth at this point. She’d think he finally drank too much raw whiskey and pickled his brains. The leaving was on Lachlan for sure, but it was difficult being the one left behind to mind the pieces that scattered everywhere. He’d never be certain he’d made the right decision in keeping the truth from her. He’d just have to live with it. Catie would be fine when she was all settled.

He got out of his borrowed clothes and lay down on the bed, letting the fire warm his bones and resting his mind for a moment on something more pleasant than his sister’s unhappiness.

Miss Burnet had looked as pretty as ever, swaddled as she was in a massive dressing gown, only the tips of her toes peeping out. She’d actually blushed that he’d seen her feet. He’d like to hold her wee foot in his hands, caress her slender ankle as he slid her stockings down, then kiss her bare leg all the way up ...

He stopped abruptly, his thoughts getting a bit too pleasant, the room becoming a bit too warm. Rolling away from the fire, he tried to get his thoughts on a more even keel. She was a fine young lady, and had been more than kind to his sister. It seemed evident she had Catie’s best interests at heart, the way she tirelessly helped her with her dress and manners. He saw the encouraging looks Miss Burnet gave her when she thought she might have faltered.

Lizzie was beautiful, intelligent, and made him laugh. He didn’t understand why she should have remained unmarried, and wondered if there was a dramatic tale of heartbreak in her past. She puzzled him, sometimes seeming so shockingly forward, almost as if she wanted to share a secret with him, and then suddenly pulling away like a spooked rabbit, back to her burrow of propriety. But he liked puzzles. He liked a challenge, and wanted to see if he could get closer to her, close enough to see what she was really about.

When Catie woke, Lizzie asked the maid to bring them tea and soup, and forced it down her throat, even though Catie insisted she was much better and apologized profusely for her tears.

As she sipped her tea, Lizzie studied her. Her color seemed better and her smiles seemed less forced than earlier, and she insisted she was well enough to go down for the impromptu party Lord Hollingsborn had planned for them.

Lizzie herself was a bit too pleased at the recovery, and spent the remainder of the rainy afternoon turning and shaking their clothes, all the while disputing with herself about her reasons for being excited about the evening.

She told herself it was because she was on the last leg of her tour here in the eighteenth century and she wanted to tie up all the loose ends. She sincerely wanted to see Catie well and happily settled, and had come to the conclusion that even though the beginnings of her romance with young Hollingsborn hadn’t been completely on the up and up, for the most part it was a good match. If Edwin was as reformed as his mother promised he was, and could stay away from the gaming tables, they should be fine. Lizzie pushed away the slight unease she continued to feel about that. She’d spent the last weeks guiding Catie in that direction, and it was widely believed by society to be a done deal.

“Do ye think Lord Hollingsborn will propose tonight?” Catie asked, practically taking the thought right from her head.

“Has he talked to your brother?” Lizzie asked, feeling certain if he had that she would have heard about it in great detail already. Quinn had an active dislike for the marquis-to-be and made fun of him whenever he had the chance. It was the only wrench in her well oiled machine.

Catie frowned. “I dinna think so. I suppose he must, aye?”

“Well, certainly, as he’s your guardian.” Lizzie tried not to let her irritation at Edwin’s cowardice show.

It wasn’t as if Quinn would punch him in the face for asking for his sister’s hand. She had to turn away to hide her smile. Edwin’s occasional supercilious manner made Lizzie not altogether mind the thought of him getting a pop to the nose.

“Has he spoken to you about it?” Lizzie asked more harshly than she meant.

Catie blushed and wrung her hands. “Not in so many words,” she said. “He hasna been improper, Miss Burnet.”

“No, dear, of course not,” Lizzie hurried to reassure her, not wanting Catie to start doubting herself. She shrugged. “We shall see tonight, won’t we?”

Catie’s blush deepened and her face almost cracked with her smile, causing a little fissure in Lizzie’s heart. She hoped she’d done the right thing. The monetary reward she’d get from Lady Hollingsborn when they were married seemed the silliest thing now. If she got to go home, none of that would even matter, but Catie would be left here to live the life she’d helped orchestrate.

“Do you think you’ll be happy with him?” she asked, pressing her hands into her chest to try to stop the sudden tightening she felt.

Catie’s face went blank for a second before resuming her radiant smile, though now it seemed slightly altered, more forced. “Aye, Miss Burnet, and I owe it all to ye.”