Holiday House Parties (7 page)

Geordie, who'd kissed a fair number of lasses in his time, was not as discomposed as she. Dizzy and dazzled he might be, but not discomposed. “Dinna ye remember?” he taunted brazenly. “I was explaining the word intimate.”

“That was
not
intimate. That was …
licentious
!”

“Nay, lass, I canna agree. Here we are under the mistletoe. For me to kiss ye under the mistletoe is a legitimate Christmas tradition.”

“In the first place, your lordship, the tradition does not go into effect until Christmas Eve. In the second place, even at Christmas such a kiss would be considered licentious. And in the third place, Lord Dunvegan, you are a boorish, shameless
libertine
, and if you
ever
—Christmas or not—manhandle me in such a manner again, I shall give you another.”

“Another, ma'am?”

“Another of these!” Without a moment of hesitation, she raised her hand and slapped him very smartly across his cheek. Then she turned on her heel and stalked off down the hall, leaving him holding his burning cheek, utterly abashed. The rampaging mischiefmaker had run into the wall at last.

7

Caroline had never considered herself a tempestuous sort. Even at school the girls used to tease her about the difference in character between her and her namesake, the wild Caro Lamb. She had always thought of herself as serious and studious, calm in times of crisis, and soft-spoken but firm. That had been her self-image, but the image was rapidly disintegrating because of these encounters with the dastardly Lord Dunvegan. He invariably left her with her emotions in turmoil. He was making her wild!

The kiss he'd so brazenly stolen in the doorway was the last straw! She seethed at the memory of it. The broiling fury inside her was so unsettling that, on passing Lady Teale in the hallway, she behaved with unwonted rudeness. It was behavior utterly unlike her. She hardly recognized herself.

The incident with Lady Teale occurred shortly after she'd slapped the Scotsman on his cheek. With the palm of her hand still burning, she was hurrying down the second-floor corridor to her bedroom when she encountered her hostess strolling in the opposite direction. Lady Teale stopped, smiled, and asked in perfect innocence, “I say, Caro, have you seen Geordie? I've been seeking him for the past quarter-hour.”

“Yes, I've seen him,” Caroline snapped, “much to my regret.”

“Regret?” Lady Teale raised her brows in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Lady Teale, that every time I see your deuced nephew, he says or does something rude.”

“Geordie?
My
Geordie?” Maud's face fell. “You can't mean it, Caro. What can he possibly have done? I'm sure, whatever it is, it can be explained. It must be some sort of small misunderstanding. My nephew is the dearest creature in the world.”

“Your nephew, ma'am, is a rackety make-bait!” Caroline burst out. And then, worse yet, she turned away, lifted her skirts, and ran off down the hall without so much as a word of explanation to the astonished Lady Teale.

It was inexcusable behavior. She had acted in a manner utterly unlike herself. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she deserved a good scolding. She would certainly have to take herself in hand.

Later that afternoon, after having thrown herself upon her bed and indulged in a healthy bout of tears, she grew somewhat calmer. She would simply dismiss Geordie McAusland and his insulting behavior from her mind. To dwell on the matter would simply heighten the importance of a rude but not significant incident. And as for her own behavior, she was well on the way back to her usual self-control. All she needed to do, she realized, was to make amends for her own rudeness. She would have to face Lady Teale and apologize.

Since it was already growing dark outside, Caroline surmised that the ladies would all be dressing for dinner by this time. It was a good hour for her mission. She went down the hall to Lady Teale's bedroom and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Lady Teale called from within.

But Caroline, pausing on the threshold, discovered that Lady Teale was not alone. Lady Powell, with two gowns spread over her lap, was perched on Lady Teale's bed. Lady Teale herself was seated at her dressing table, dressing her own hair. “Do come in, Caro,” she urged, waving her hairbrush in Caroline's direction.

Caroline hesitated. “Oh, no. I … I didn't mean to interrupt,” she stammered. “I'll come back later.”

“Don't mind me,” Lady Powell said, also beckoning her in. “You aren't interrupting. I was just asking Maud if I should wear my green sarsenet tonight or save it for Christmas Eve. We are quite done making these momentous decisions. If you wish to be private with Maud, I shall go at once.”

“I don't need to be private, your ladyship,” Caroline said, stepping in and closing the door behind her. “I only want to tell Lady Teale that I'm sorry I was so abrupt when she encountered me in the corridor this afternoon.”

“I quite understand, my dear,” Maud said kindly. “You were upset. You said that Geordie had been rude to you.”

“Yes, but he is always rude. I should not have let myself become discomposed.”

“Geordie rude?” Lady Powell asked in surprise. “How strange. I should not have thought it of him. I quite like the boy, myself. And Lord Powell was remarking just last night how fond he's grown of the lad. He says that the hour they spend playing billiards together has become his favorite time of the day.”

“Aside from the time he spends with his wife, of course,” Maud teased.

“Of course,” Lucy Powell admitted, laughing.

But Caroline did not smile. “I didn't mean to imply that Lord Dunvegan is rude to everyone,” she said tightly. “I admit that he can be quite charming to the world at large. It's only
I
who's been singled out as target for his rudeness.”

“In what way is he rude to you, Caro dear?” Maud asked, putting down her hairbrush and turning toward Caroline with concern. “His Scottish ways are different from ours, you know. Perhaps he doesn't realize—”

“He realizes perfectly well what he's doing,” Caroline said bitterly. “Hiding behind his Scottish brogue will not get him far with me! I know what he means when he calls me
thrawn
and
capernoitie
and
dautie
!”

Maud's eyes lit with amusement. “I suppose, my love, that you may consider calling a girl stubborn and irritable to be somewhat rude, but in combination with
dautie
it is not so dreadful, is it? I would not be insulted if a handsome young man called
me
a darling.”

“Darling?”
Caroline gasped. “Is that what dautie means?”

“Why, yes, of course. Didn't you know that?”

“No, I didn't,” Caroline muttered, flushing bright red. “I … I thought …”

“Then it
was
a misunderstanding?” Maud suggested hopefully.

Caroline shook her head. “No, ma'am, not really. I may have misunderstood one word, but there were others I understood quite well. Your nephew was rude in ways I could not misunderstand. But I don't wish to refine on them or even to discuss them.”

“No, naturally you don't,” Maud said sympathetically. “Not with his aunt, at any rate.”

“Not with anyone, ma'am. But just because Lord Dunvegan had been rude to
me
is no excuse for me to be rude to
you
, Lady Teale. I hope you'll forgive me.”

“There's nothing to forgive, dearest,” Maud assured her, getting up from her dressing table. “I took not the least offense.” And she underscored her sincerity by giving the girl a warm embrace.

Caroline curtseyed to the ladies and took her leave. As soon as the door closed behind her, Maud whirled about and grinned triumphantly at Lady Powell. “There, Lucy! What did I tell you?” she chortled. “Am I not right?”

“I think you are, Maud,” Lucy Powell admitted with a shrug. “Geordie must be taken with her if he called her a darling. I doubt if he used the word dautie to Emmaline or Jane. It seems neither Powell nor I will win our wager.”

Maud beamed. “And Caro is certainly not indifferent to him, don't you agree? Her dislike of him is too intense.”

Lucy nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I do believe the chit is more taken with your nephew than she's prepared to admit. Poor Douglas Dawlish.”

“Never mind Dawlish,” Maud said, sitting down at her mirror again. “It's not Dawlish's father to whom I made the promise of providing a bride for his son.”

“It was a rash promise, Maud,” Lady Powell said, rising, gathering up her gowns and starting toward the door. “Caro may be attracted to your Geordie, but I doubt that they can mend their differences before the holiday ends.”

“They will if I have anything to say to it,” Maud declared firmly. “If Geordie David McAusland doesn't go home to Scotland betrothed to that girl, it won't be because I didn't try.”

At the same time, in the opposite wing of the house, Archie was perched on Geordie's bed, watching as his friend gave the finishing touches to his evening attire.

“But why, suddenly, do you want to take off for Scotland?” he was asking worriedly. “Until this afternoon you seemed content enough to stay here through Christmas.”

“I wasna content,” Geordie muttered, frowning at his reflection in the little round mirror on the wall as he carelessly tied his neckcloth. “I was only bein' biddable.”

“Then what's happened to make you want to stop being biddable? Why is it suddenly necessary to take off for Kincardine?”

“This is not my home, that's why. A body shouldna have to spend Christmas away from home.”

“Come now, old man, you haven't been home for the holidays in six years. What makes it so urgent to go home now?” He got up, strode across to Geordie, and pulled the neckcloth from his hands. “Here, let me. You're making a botch of it.”

“Only because this deuced keekin' glass is so small,” Geordie said in sullen defense of his prowess with a neckcloth.

“The ‘keekin' glass' was large enough for you yesterday.” Archie pushed his tall, red-headed friend down on the nearest chair and began to tie the neckcloth. “Something's happened to upset you, I'm sure of that,” he mused as he worked. “I only wish you'd tell me what it is.”

“'Tis nothin' worth the tellin',” Geordie muttered, shamefaced. “I made a glaikit ass of myself with a lass is all.”

Archie's brows rose. “Did you? I don't believe it. Geordie of the silver tongue does not play the fool with the ladies.” Giving a final pat to the now neatly-tied neckcloth, he sat down on the bed again and eyed Geordie curiously. “Who was it, old man? Lady Jane?”

“Nae, laddie, not she. She's a wee tapeless hersel'—foolish, I mean—so she'd not likely notice the foolishness of anyone else.”

Archie nodded in amused agreement, but his expression promptly altered as he was struck with a dreadful thought. “Don't tell me it was Emmaline, because I won't believe it,” he declared. “You couldn't have made a fool of yourself over Emmaline Dawlish.”

Geordie shook his head. “Not Emmaline, not Jane, and not Bella. It was yer blasted Caroline. I'm sorry I ever was gowky enough to call on her that day in London. I've been payin' for that interview ever since.”

“Paying for it? How?”

“In orra … all sorts of ways. Today she slapped my face. I can still feel the sting of it.”

“Slapped your face?” Archie's eyes widened in astonishment. “Confound it, you clunch, what did you say to her?”

“It isna what I said. It's what I did.” Geordie got up, wandered over to the window, and stared out into the twilight. “I kissed her.”

“You kissed
Caro
? Good God!” Archie peered at Geordie's back with something like awe. “I didn't know you were capable of that much bravado. I never had the courage to do it, even after we were betrothed.”

Geordie, surprised, turned and gaped at him. “Ye never kissed her? Why on earth not?”

Archie shrugged. “I don't know. She always seemed so … formidable, you know?”

“Aye, she is that. Formidable is the very word.”

“Then why did you kiss her? You don't like her above half.”

“I don't like her at all. I dinna ken why I did it. It cows a'! I was liftin' her down from the stool, and she glowerin' down at me all fire and fury, and the next thing I knew I had her in my arms, and my heart was makin' a chitterin' callishangle in my chest, and I kissed her.”

Archie shook his head in confusion. “Strange behavior, I must say. If you ask me, old fellow, you like her better than you're willing to admit. So stop talking about running off to Scotland. Better to remain right here and see what comes of this.”

“Nothin' will come of it but embarrassment and humiliation. She's ta'en with that gomerell Dawlish, and as for me, I cannot abide a lass who puts on airs.” And with one last glance in the glass to check his neckcloth, Geordie started toward the door.

Archie rose to follow. “That's too bad,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Any man with the courage to kiss Caro Woolcott when she's glowering at him might be the very man for her.”

“Ye may be right, but that man isna I.” Geordie paused in the doorway and looked back at his friend. “But, Archie, my lad, though I'm fair loath to admit it, I must tell ye that if I
were
betrothed to her, I dinna believe I could
keep
myself from kissin' her, formidable though she be.” He threw Archie a sudden grin. “The lass is much more sonsy than I thought.”

8

Geordie, after enduring another evening of being completely ignored by Caroline, was more than ever determined to cut short his visit and go home to Scotland. Not that he blamed the girl for ignoring him (in fact, after the liberty he'd taken with her under the kissing bough, it was no more than he deserved), but without the challenge of exchanging banter with her, there was little to interest him here on his aunt's premises. Archie and Bella were too preoccupied with their mutual infatuation to spend much time with him, Jane and Emmaline embarrassed him by their not-so-subtle attempts at flirtation, his aunt was busy with Christmas preparations, and the snow was too heavy to permit him even his few outdoor activities. The only enjoyment he could look forward to was the hour he spent each day playing billiards with the elderly but unaffected Lord Powell. But pleasant as Lord Powell's company was, one hour a day of billiards was scarcely a satisfactory replacement for the company of his father in his family home in Kincardine at Christmastime.