Page 33 of A Stranger’s Promise

Chapter Nine

Alistair forced his feet to carry him toward the dining room. Primal jealousy burned in his veins. He would never forget the image of Charlotte in Captain Edwards’ arms. The image scorched his brain. She’d told him of her engagement. Could Captain Edwards be the captain she’d spoken of? What were the odds? Had the man discovered her missing in London and sought her out? What man would allow his fiancée to fall into such dire straits that she must take on a position as governess?

Those questions swirled in Alistair’s mind, each leaving him in a darker mood than the last, as he took his seat at the head of the table. The dinner guests filed past him, but he had eyes only for the captain as he sat and the dinner began.

The women on each side of Alistair attempted to draw him into conversation, but he retained only vague impressions of their faces and heard little of what they said. What could Charlotte admire in such a man? He clearly lacked ethics, and was weak-chinned to boot. The thought of her kissing such a dolt twisted his gut.

As the dinner progressed, Alistair downed his wine untasted and sifted through his recollections of the past week for any information about the man. They’d once exchanged brief words in the library over glasses of claret, and once again during an afternoon ride on the estate. Beyond that, he hadn’t paid the pompous core much attention. Now, he couldn’t take his eyes off that smug face.

What the deuce did Charlotte see in him?

As if sensing Alistair’s stare, Captain Edwards looked up and nodded politely his way.

It was an opening. “How might you know Miss Atchenson, Captain?” Alistair raised his voice above the din.

The voices around the dinner table quieted.

Edwards coughed loudly. “I, uh, have…heard of…uh, her through mutual friends, my lord.”

Heard? An odd way to speak of one’s fiancée. “Are you not, at least, acquaintances, Captain?”

The guests swiveled their heads back to the captain.

The man turned red. “Nae, no. Not really. Not at all.”

Odd. Alistair narrowed his eyes. Exceedingly odd.

The guests began to whisper.

The captain fixed his eyes intently on his plate.

Alistair frowned. What manner of man denied his engagement? Or…was their connection a clandestine affair? Charlotte wasn’t that kind of a woman. Hell, she’d practically fled his company. Twice. Perhaps the captain had led her on with false hope? He expelled a derisive snort at the thought, only to become aware of a strained silence and his guests’ stares.

Nicholas’ voice rose, “What are the forthcoming plays in Edinburgh this summer?”

The buzz in the dining room resumed.

Cutlery clinked. Voices buzzed. Courses came and went.

Alistair didn’t know what he ate. He couldn’t prevent his gaze from straying to the captain, to note every minute detail—how his head bobbed, and the nasal quality of his laugh.

At last, the final course was served. Alistair waited long enough for the lady on this right to finish the last of her cake, then he rose, signaling that the blasted dinner had reached its morbid end.

As the ladies retired to the Blue Drawing Room, he headed to the library with the men, keenly aware that the captain followed at his heel. Within ten minutes of standing by the fire, nursing his claret, Alistair could no longer bear another moment of the man’s nasally laugh.

“If you will excuse me, gentlemen.” He set his claret on the sideboard and strode from the room without further explanation.

He’d nearly reached his study when Nicholas caught up with him.

“Ho there, lad.” His friend matched his stride. “Are you ill?”

Alistair exhaled in irritation. “Captain Edwards is an ass.”

“A dull fellow, to be sure,” Nicholas replied with a snort of amusement.

Alistair cast him a narrow-eyed glare, but made no reply. They reached the study, his private haven from the gilded luxury of the castle. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing the two simple brown wingback chairs, the table with its candlestick, the simple whisky cupboard and the fireplace. What else did a man need?

Nicholas lit a taper from the fire in the hearth as Alistair strode to the cupboard. He poured two glasses of whisky, gave one to his friend, then sat down heavily in the empty chair.