Windemere’ (The McKenzie Brothers)

by Kimberly Nee

“Whatever for in such weather?”

  “I have to speak with someone. And I need something warmer. My light blue morning dress will do nicely.”

  She managed to remain still as Lydia whisked off her dress and went to work wrestling Emma into her corset, lacing it tight, then attending to the rest of the process. By the time she was dressed, her impatience at wanting to leave made her shorter than usual when Lydia suggested a complicated coif.

  “Now, why would I trouble with that when my hair will be ripped from its moorings in this wind. Just a simple plait, held with a blue ribbon, should suffice.”

  “Yes, Miss McKenzie.” Lydia went to work with her comb and brush and thick velvet ribbon. She tamed Emma’s frizz of black curls into falls of smooth black curls, wound through with the heavy blue ribbon.

  Finally, Lydia stepped back. “There, Miss McKenzie. Will this do?”

  Emma peered at her reflection and smiled. “It’s fine, Lydia. Thank you. Now, where is my reticule?”

  Lydia fetched it from the top of the chest by the mirror to press into her hand. Emma thanked her again, and then hurried to get back below before Julian decided to leave without her.

  She rounded the corner into the parlor. “Mr. McCallister, I’m re—”

  “Hush.” Julian held a finger to his lips, and with his free hand, gestured to Rose, who lay curled on the sofa, sound asleep. “She finally gave in a few moments ago.”

  “She was up all night,” Emma whispered. There were no quilts in the parlor, and despite the fire, Rose still looked cold. “Let me find something to cover her with. Then we can go. Is that all right with you?”

  Julian nodded. “Very well.”

  “I’ll be back in a moment.” She made her way back upstairs, passing her parents’ chamber as her mother came out.

  “And where are you off to?” Momma asked.

  “Mr. McCallister is going to accompany me into town. I need to speak with…” Emma hesitated. Her mother wouldn’t be happy to know she planned to meet with George, especially with Julian as her chaperone. It wasn’t proper, no matter how one looked at it.

  Still, as her mother’s brows lowered, Emma decided the truth was her best ally, so she spilled the entire story about how Rose came to be asleep in their parlor.

  Momma didn’t look happy, but her forehead smoothed a little. “Are you certain this is any of your concern?”

  “Momma, I just told you that the entire mess is my fault.” Emma sank into the doorframe. “I have to fix it. Rose doesn’t blame me entirely, but she will if George refuses to speak with her again. Please just let me go. Mr. McCallister will do as a chaperone.”

  “I don’t know, Emma. I’d feel better if Amanda went with you.”

  The last thing she wanted was to have the silver-haired, fussy Amanda Hastings on her heels. Emma rolled her eyes. “Not Amanda, Momma. I’ll never get anything out of George if the maid is with us. Even Mary would be preferable.”

  Momma’s look told her plainly what she thought of that suggestion. Emma braced herself, waiting for her mother to insist on Amanda going with her. But, to her surprise, Momma shook her head. “Then you would do well to avoid the sewing room, with your sister.” Momma frowned. “But I don’t like it, you being out without a proper chaperone.”

  “I’ll be fine, Momma. Mr. McCallister is like another brother. No one will even notice.”

  “I hope not.” Momma rubbed her forehead and then turned to go back into her chambers.

  Emma stayed where she was, tapping a fingertip against the wood doorframe.

  Cloth whisked against cloth and she breathed a sigh of relief when her mother returned with the blue flowered quilt that normally lay draped over the old sea chest at the foot of the bed.

  “Momma?”

  “Take this to cover Rose and try not to be too long.”

  “I won’t. Thank you.” Emma took the quilt and hurried back below. Rose didn’t move when she eased the quilt up to her shoulders. When she and Julian were finally tucked into the carriage, she found him grinning at her. “What?”

  “I never knew such a nurturing streak ran through you.”

  She braced a hand against the chilly windowpane as the carriage swung wildly around the bend in the drive. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve always been nurturing.”

  “With animals, yes. With people? Not usually.”

  “Oh, pish. You just think that because you’ve seen how I handle my brothers.”

  “I also remember a time or two when you handled me, and my poor, undeserving shins paid the price.”

  She made a face at him to hide the flash of shame. She didn’t like to lose her temper in front of other people. Losing it in front of her family was bad enough, but when others witnessed it, that only made it more embarrassing. “I’m sure you most definitely did deserve them.”

  To her surprise, his eyes softened. “And yet, the one time when I absolutely did, your foot never made contact.”

  She tilted her head to one side. “There was? I don’t recall there ever being a time when I should have kicked you and yet I didn’t.”

  “By the wishing well.”

  Her chill deepened. It was the first time either one of them had broached that afternoon, and until now, she always assumed he’d forgotten all about that what happened there. Unfortunately, that obviously wasn’t the case. “Oh.”

  “I suppose I—” Before he could finish, the carriage rocked to a halt and Joseph pulled open the door.

  “Mr. McCallister, we’re at Dr. Hadley’s office.”

  “I think I can manage this on my own,” Emma said as Julian rose from his seat. “Besides, I’d rather not have an audience with George. Unless you’re going to choke him until he agrees to take Rose back.”

  His faint grin faded. “No. Not a wise idea. Perhaps I should be there, to make sure nothing happens to him. Never mind, I’m supposed to be chaperoning you.”

  “Oh, bother that.” She waved away his concern with an impatient hand. “I hardly need a chaperone for this, don’t you think? Who’s going to see me? And more importantly, who will care? Everyone knows I have no designs on him.”

  He still didn’t look convinced. “Emma—”

  “What? It’ll be fine.”

  “Emma—”

  “It will be fine. I promise I won’t hurt him. Honest.”

  Her hopes rose as he rubbed his forehead with a gloved hand. “Very well. You win. I have some business needing my attention at the harbor, and I’ll come by when I’m finished. If you wrap up here first, come find me at the Harrington Building.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “This is a bad idea, Em.”

  “It’s a fine idea. Who’s going to know?” She reached over to pat his hand. “Everything will be all right, and I’ll meet you when I’m finished.”

  “Very well.”

  She followed him out into the cold, tugging the cloak tighter still. George Hadley was Brunswick’s most prominent physician, and his office was on the corner of Broad and Mercer Streets. The bell above the door tinkled merrily as she pushed it open. “Dr. Hadley?”

  Chapter Four

  “YES?” GEORGE HADLEY’S SOFT VOICE floated up from the rear of the building. “Who’s there?”

  “Miss McKenzie.”

  She thought she heard a groan followed by an oath, but they were muted, so she wasn’t certain. Still, there was no mistaking the displeasure in George’s voice when he said, “I do not wish to discuss my troubles with Miss Adams with you. You’ve done quite enough, thank you.” A chair creaked, floorboards squeaked, and George Hadley emerged from the shadowy back corridor, scowling. “So you might as well take your leave.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to disappoint you, Dr. Hadley, for I am not leaving until you do talk to me.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” His shiny forehead creased and his dark eyes narrowed into angry slits. “Tell me one thing. Why the devil would you tell her about Miss Penrose?”

 
; “Why the devil didn’t you tell her? It would have saved both of us a lot of trouble, don’t you think?” A mahogany desk, its surface meticulously organized, stood along the far wall and although two chairs stood between her and it, she perched on the desk’s corner and folded her arms over her chest.

  She tried to stare him down, the way her mother so skillfully pinned a body down until they confessed and apologized.

  But her skills must need refining, for when George finally did meet her gaze, he didn’t look at all sorry or as if he was going to apologize. And that made her want to kick him. Hard. Harder than she’d ever kicked anyone.

  He didn’t look sorry because he wasn’t. Not one bit. He wanted to kiss Darcy. Chose to do it, the idiot. Couldn’t he see what a fine woman he already had in Rose? And if he felt any guilt at all, he kept it tucked away behind an annoyingly blank stare.

  She glared at him. “What were you thinking? I thought you loved Rose. I thought you wanted to marry her.”

  “I did.”

  “So why didn’t you just ask her? That was all she wanted. How could you do something so—so low? So vile? Haven’t you even a shred of dignity?”

  George’s eyes widened to expose their deep brown irises. His nostrils flared, going white at their edges, which made his pointy thin nose look even pointier. Then his lips pursed, which made him look as if he’d been sucking on a lemon. But then, the tension eased as he said, “I don’t know why. I don’t know why I did either of those things. But now, because I did do both, I’m at a crossroads. And the path I thought I was going to choose is no longer the one calling me.”

  He shuffled through the papers he held he held then set them on the desk. His shoulders slumped for a moment, but then he drew in a deep breath, and squared them again.

  Her hands curled into tight balls, and she swallowed hard, as if that might help crush the urge to do him bodily harm. Losing her temper would do neither of them any good. “Which one would that be?”

  “Marrying Miss Adams.” He met her gaze easily this time, and a hardness came into his eyes. If she had seen sorrow, or regret, in them, it vanished in a heartbeat. “Our betrothal was decided before she even learned to walk, before I even knew what marriage meant. All my life, I’ve accepted both of our families wanted us to marry. She wanted us to marry.”

  “But you don’t?”

  “I never thought about it because nobody ever asked me what I wanted.” He ran both hands through his hair. Although he was only two years older, gray streaks were slowly overtaking his dark hair. “And until a few weeks ago, I never questioned what I wanted, either. But now…”

  Emma’s heart sank at the quiet determination in his voice. This wasn’t going to be quite as easy as she’d hoped. But that didn’t mean she had to give up entirely. “You know what Miss Penrose is like, George. You’ve known her as long as we have. She’s a terrible gossip. Everyone knows that. Remember the stories she spread about Miss Martin? She almost ruined that poor girl.”

  “No—” George shook his head “—she isn’t. She isn’t at all. And there was nothing about Miss Martin that wasn’t true.”

  “Wasn’t true, my foot. She took a simple little kiss and twisted it into something sordid.”

  “That’s neither here nor there. You don’t know her. You know what you choose to believe about her, and there’s a vast difference.”

  This was not going at all the way she thought it would. She glanced around at the small office as she struggled to think of what move to make next. Everyone knew Darcy loved a juicy tidbit, and the juicier the better. And she wasn’t above making it even more succulent.

  Emma shifted. The corner dug into the back of her thigh, and the crackling fire made the small room feel overheated. “Rose loves you, George. And I’ve never seen her as upset as she was when she learned what happened—”

  “Because you told her!” His nostrils flared again. “It was none of your concern, Miss McKenzie. Just as what happens between Miss Adams and me is none of your concern. And whether or not I ask for her hand is none of your concern. In fact, this might come as a surprise to you, but none of this is your concern.” He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I know your brothers tolerate your pushiness, your need to know everything and control it as you think it should be controlled, but I will not stand for it. My decision is that, mine. Is that understood? Now, if you don’t mind, I’m expecting several patients in the next hour.”

  If the floor opened up beneath her and swallowed her whole, she’d be grateful. He was right. Overstepping didn’t even come close to describing what she’d done. He didn’t answer to her.

  But his being right, which made her wrong, only intensified her need to fix everything between him and Rose. God, why did everything she tried to do only make matters worse? And how did she make them better?

  And why didn’t the floor just open up and swallow her before she made matters even worse still?

  But that didn’t happen. “Rose is my dearest friend in the world,” she told him, her voice quavering, “and I won’t apologize for telling her something she should know. Nor will I apologize for wanting to do whatever I can to ease her upset. She didn’t sleep at all last evening, George. That’s how upset she was. When I left Stonebridge, she was finally napping in the parlor.”

  He shrugged. “You pushed your nose in where it didn’t belong. The blame is entirely on you.”

  She kicked him as hard as she could.

  The moment her foot made contact with his shin, she regretted it. Pain exploded through her toes.

  George swore swiftly, grabbing his leg with both hands and jumping away from her. “What the—are you insane? What was that for?”

  “Because you are an idiot, George. A blithering fool of an idiot.” If she could do so, she’d have rubbed her foot, it ached so badly. It felt as if she broke at least two toes, and it did nothing to ease her temper. “Rose is too good for you.”

  She didn’t wait for him to reply, but turned and stomped her way out of the office, letting the door slam with more than a little satisfaction. Icy raindrops stung her face, cooling it as she looked about for the carriage. Where the devil was Joseph?

  But wait, hadn’t Julian said she should meet him at the Harrington Building? It wasn’t far from Eagleton’s warehouse on the waterfront. The Harrington Building housed Chelten Ships’ home office.

  The warehouses were the eastern part of town, along Lighthouse Lane between Peach and Maple Roads. As soon as there was a big enough break in the carriages rocking along the street, she turned her head away from the freezing rain and darted across.

  The stairs leading to the offices on the second floor were slick with frozen rain. She slipped twice trying to hurry up to the top. Finally, she made it, and the door swung open at her light touch. “Mr. McCallister?”

  “Over here.” His voice came from the desk in the far corner, nearest the windows overlooking the water.

  She limped her way around the clutter of desks belonging to whomever Julian shared his space with. The lighting wasn’t good and her eyes took their time adjusting. “Where?”

  His hand rose up between two high sheaves of paper and waved from the far corner.

  When she wove her way over to him, she plunked down in the chair at the desk next to his. “I should have let you come with me.”

  “Ol’ Georgie needed a choking?” Julian looked up from the paper he’d been poring over.

  A hint of graphite smudged his cheek, leaving Emma with the wildest urge to drag her thumb over it.

  His eyes narrowed. “Were you limping?”

  She winced as pain flared through her foot again. Perhaps she had broken something. “Yes, and don’t ask. In that order.” She leaned forward, half-rising from her chair to peer at the drawing on the desk in front of him. “What is this?”

  “Preliminary drawings for a clipper I’ve been commissioned to build. It’s why I need to go to Boston.”

  She peered down at the dr
awing. Although she didn’t see many, even to her untrained eye, this ship wasn’t like any other plan she’d ever seen. “Is this your own design?”

  His brows rose half an inch. “This is what I do, remember?”

  “True.” She let the paper slip from her fingers as a feeling of total idiocy swept over her. “It’s just that I’ve never seen what you do. I didn’t realize you created them from nothing. I thought they were all basically the same.”

  “And now you know they aren’t all the same.” His chair squeaked as he sat back. His hands clasped, resting against his stomach. “How did your talk with George go?”

  Wouldn’t it be lovely, if she could just lie and say everything went just fine, and hope that he forgot she was trying to fix this mess?

  She shook her head. “Not as well as I hoped.”

  Setting down the pencil, Julian said, “He didn’t cave, did he?”

  “No. Just the opposite. He’s not sure if he even loves Rose.” She winced. “I think I might have made matters worse.”

  “Is that why you’re limping?”

  “No. I don’t want to talk about that.” As Julian started to smile, she scowled. “And it isn’t funny. Not in the least.”

  “Let me guess.” The pencil tapped the desk again. “Ol’ Georgie said something you didn’t like, and you kicked him in the shin.”

  “You know me too well, Mr. McCallister.” Despite her warm cheeks, she smiled back. “He told me to mind my own business. Maybe I should have, but I kicked him anyway.”

  After his long look, she nodded. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have done it, but I was just so angry. With him. With myself. I just want to make everything right between them again. No matter what I try, things just get worse instead of better. I’m at my wit’s end.”

  “Sometimes the best thing you can do is just to step back and do nothing. Your heart was in the right place. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think you ought to consider leaving everything be and leaving them to work it out for themselves.”

  “If only my brain would join it.”

  “Don’t we all wish that.”

  As she glared at him, he quickly added, “I meant for ourselves, not for you.”