Your loyal servant? Transgression? This does not sound like her at all.
She glanced up at him and narrowed her eyes and she re-read the note. When she was done, she folded the paper and looked at him.
“Why was her letter not sealed?”
He shrugged. “I told her it was not necessary to seal it. In any case, she wrote it in haste as I was in a rush to get on the road once more. It is a note from a servant to her former master. What great secrecy or need for privacy could it contain?”
She spun around. “You speak of her as though she is less than us because she is not of noble birth.”
He swallowed and shrugged. “Those who have not had the good fortune of being born into our society cannot be faulted for not being equal. But Rowena, they do require a strong hand and firm leadership. As much as I respect your parents, they have been lax it appears when it comes to preparing your friend for life outside of the comforts of your family.”
Rowena’s head spun as she took in his words.
“She has been prepared well enough. She is a lady in her own right, and she does not deserve to be lusted after by some rake like Lord Portsmouth. She certainly does not deserve to be told she is making a mistake when she is trying to save herself.”
The Duke flushed red as he took in her words.
“You read her words. She has seen her error. She has been forgiven. There is really no need to be so upset.”
“So, you read her note.”
He shrugged once more. “Of course. I wanted to make sure she eased your mind sufficiently. Has she not? Rowena, I must say, this is all very irregular to be in such an uproar over a servant girl. You understand she was simply a ward? To have such close bonds with her is rather odd, I must say. And as for your tone and actions, you advised her to steal a horse. I do expect better from the Duchess of Thornmouth.”
Rage rose inside of her. She had known he was arrogant. That he considered himself better than most. Smarter and worthy of more. She could not believe that once upon a time she’d shared a daydream with Betsy of living at Crawford Castle with her as her governess. He would never allow such a thing.
The pressure of the past few days erupted inside of her as she balled her hands into fists. Across the little yard, she could see that her sister had turned toward her. Her face was a mask of confusion. Rowena regretted at once not involving her sister more in the events surrounding Betsy. She was, after all, like a sister to them both.
“I will never, ever become the Duchess of Thornmouth. I would rather die than be your wife,” she said, being sure to keep her voice low. While they were outside, voices carried easily and she did not want neighbors or perhaps her parents to hear.
His face fell as he took in her words.
“You do not mean it, Rowena.”
“I most certainly do, Isaac.” She spat the name at him as she said it. “I cannot be married to a man such as yourself. No amount of money, influences, or connections to the Crown are worth that. I will marry for love, with my best friend by my side.”
Catherine broke into a clap but tucked her hands behind her back at once when Rowena shot her a glare. While it was a comfort to know her sister supported her decision, obvious glee was the last thing they needed. It would only incite the Duke further.
“Rowena!” He took a step back, pale faced now. His lip was twitching rapidly.
“That is Lady Rowena to you.”
She had to leave. There was no keeping her here now. She had to find a way to get Betsy out from under Lord Portsmouth’s grasp as she was certain he would find a way to have his revenge on her for running away. There was no way he would simply forgive such a transgression.
Why would he even want her to remain? After she had made such accusations against him? Horrible thoughts swirled through her mind.
It did not matter why. She had to be brought back from Bedfordshire. Everything else could be addressed later. She set off toward the back door.
“Where are you going?” His voice was just above a hiss and it chilled her bones. He grabbed her by the elbow, stopping her in her tracks. She was only grateful that her sister was there to witness the rough way with which he was treating her. In fact, Catherine was already interfering on her behalf.
“Let go of my Sister! My Father would be outraged at this display. Rowena, come, let us go inside.”
“No, Catherine, I must go and find Betsy.”
“You are doing no such thing,” his voice rumbled now. Certainly, the servants, and perhaps her parents, would hear them soon enough. He continued to hold on to her arm.
Perhaps I ought to scream. Perhaps I ought to draw attention. But it would only result in a lengthy explanation. In the meantime, who knows what danger Betsy might be in.
Instead of screaming, she did the opposite. She lowered her voice further, glaring at him.
“You will let me go at once. No matter how tight you hold on to me, I will never be your wife.” She yanked her arm free and took a step back. “For soon, I will be wed. I will be a Duchess. However, not the Duchess of Thornmouth.”
Catherine gasped at this declaration, her eyes wide with excitement.
She turned as his voice at last lost all restraint. “I knew it. That Westmond cad. You are making a mistake, Rowena.”
She rushed back inside, followed by Catherine, and they made their way upstairs.
“You are hysterical with worry. I understand. Please, let us speak to your parents,” he called after her.
“Never,” she replied as she ran, already regretting having told him what she and Christopher intended to do. The words had left her mouth before she could control them. The anger had forced her to reveal more than she should have. Now there was no turning back, no matter what he said.
“Rowena! I love you. I forgive you,” he called.
“Quickly, Cathy, I must get my satchel from my chamber. If I do not hurry, he will find a way to stop me.” The two rushed upstairs when suddenly, another familiar voice called her name…
Her mother.
She stopped on the stairs, listening.
“Where are you going? To Christopher? Where is your satchel?” Catherine asked.
“Under my bed,” she replied and without another word, her sister rushed away.
“Lady Hazelshire, we must speak to the Earl at once. At once. We must not lose one precious moment,” the Duke’s voice was full of hurry.
Their footsteps faded away into the distance and a moment later, Catherine returned, thrusting the small satchel into her arms.
“Here is it, now go. I will stall them.”
Rowena closed her eyes and considered turning back. For a moment, she thought about telling her mother everything. Perhaps if she told her what she’d learned about Lord Portsmouth, if she knew Betsy had found herself in need of shelter, and if she knew the Duke had refused to provide it, maybe she could see Thornmouth for who he was and send help for Betsy.
No. As much as her mother loved Betsy, she would never go against the word of a Duke. Not while he had a written note from Betsy. Not without seeing Betsy before her and hearing her own words.
And she’d all but told the Duke that she intended to undo their union and wed another. No. She’d have to go. There was no other way.
She turned to Catherine. “They will come after me. They will be here any moment to stop me. But Cathy, Betsy is in grave danger and I must–”
“Go, I will make excuses as long as I can. Do what you must to make sure Betsy is safe. And you are happy.”
The sisters embraced and then Rowena opened the door, stepping into the darkness of the night.
Chapter 27
Christopher found himself overcome by a yawn.
“Perhaps you ought to sleep for a while? It’s a big trip to Scotland,” Henry suggested. Christopher shook his head.
“No, it is quite alright. I am sure she–”
“Christopher!” Her voice sounded so full of panic and fear that it made hi
s heart drop at once. He turned and saw her rushing toward him, her hair in disarray, a small satchel in her hand.
He was down the steps in a flash and wrapped his arms around her, not caring that this display would be met with not only stares, but rumors throughout the ton. He lifted her off the ground for a moment.
“What has happened?” He wiped a tear away with his thumb.
“Faith, Christopher, we must help Betsy.”
He frowned. “Betsy? Why, what has happened? Has she returned in a bad condition? Was something done to her?”
“No, that is the problem. She has not returned at all. She was not with Thornmouth when he arrived.” Hurriedly she told him what had happened over the course of the evening.
I am not at all surprised that this man could not be trusted to do as he promised. Another reason to get her away from him.
“Where is she now then? Still at Portsmouth’s house?” Henry asked, having observed the exchange from the porch.
“Yes,” she said as he led her up the steps and into the house. “He left her there. Who knows what Portsmouth will get up to now that she has so openly defied him? I must help her. Please, Christopher,” she turned to him as they stood in the parlor. “She is in danger, I know it. The letter was forced. She would never write in such a manner, not to me. I must help her.”
He nodded, understanding at once that their trip to Gretna Green was again on hold. Of course, he knew that Betsy’s safety was paramount to anything else.
“I will go there myself and get her. Do not fret. We shall return her here.” A thought entered his mind. “Perhaps if your Father sees just how untrustworthy Thornmouth is, we will not be forced to go to Gretna Green after all.”
Her eyes widened at the prospect. “If not my Father, then my Mother for she loves Betsy like a daughter.” The prospect of possibly being able to wed the love of his life in a righteous manner after all, and thus enabling his brother to court Lady Catherine, eased Christopher’s mind. However, the young Miss Carmichael had to be rescued first and foremost.
“I shall take a horse and ride to Bedfordshire; I will ride all night if I must.”
“I wish to come with you,” Rowena said, determination in her voice. Christopher exchanged a glance with Henry, who cleared his throat.
“Lady Rowena, it might not be advisable for you to take on such a journey. Besides, Lord Portsmouth might be in rather a foul mood at the prospect of having Miss Carmichael removed from his home. It is best you remain here, safely with my uncle. I will go with Christopher.”
She sighed but then nodded in agreement.
“I supposed you are right, but will I not be an imposition upon your Uncle?”
“I am certain he will love your company, as will our aunt” Henry said with a smile. “Now Christopher, as for the horses, it may be wiser to find a carriage, as we must transport the young woman back with us.”
The door to the downstairs drawing room opened and their uncle stepped into the parlor. Glancing around the small group, he furrowed his eyebrows.
“What is this then? And –” his gaze settled on Rowena and a smile appeared on his face. “Well, if it isn’t Lady Rowena Burton,” he bowed before her and she returned the gesture with a curtsy.
Even when in distress, she is still ever the lady.
“My Lord,” she nodded her head when she rose.
“What is this I heard about the need for a carriage?”
This time, it was Henry who took it upon himself to tell their uncle what had occurred. When he concluded, Uncle Nestor gave one curt nod and slapped his hands together.
“Right. I will have a carriage readied at once. You are in luck. I have horses stabled at posting houses at Barnet and St. Albans, as it is on the way to Pemberose Manor. You will have to find another posting house closer to Bedfordshire, but that ought to do you for the first part of the journey. Hanks!” he called out rather loudly, and the butler appeared at once.
“Have the carriage readied, as my nephews will be needing it. And have Mrs. Dorchester prepare a room for our guest, Lady Rowena.”
The butler bowed and rushed off to attend to his tasks.
“Now,” Uncle Nestor rubbed his hands together once more “Are we expecting any visitors who might be in search of Lady Rowena in your absence?”
Christopher exchanged glances with Rowena and Henry, answering his uncle’s question.
“Very well, perhaps the young lady and I can return to the drawing room and join your aunt. We may come up with a plan to handle any such visitors. Meanwhile, you and Henry might ready yourself for the journey.” He looked Christopher up and down.
He was dressed in a fine pair of pantaloons as well as his new tailcoat, the very same one he had made for Lady Catherine’s coming-out ball just a few weeks ago.
“This is what you were going to don for the journey to Gretna Green? Christopher,” Uncle Nestor shook his head. “Such fine attire would be tarnished at once.” He turned to Lady Rowena, “I must say, my nephew could indeed do with the firm hand of a capable wife.” He motioned for the drawing room, “My wife, Lady Totham would surely be glad for your company.”
Rowena took Uncle Nestor’s arm and retreated into the drawing room, leaving Christopher and Henry to prepare for the journey to Bedfordshire.
“Now, with three changes at the posting houses, you should be there in just under five hours. Perhaps six.” Uncle Nestor said as they were boarding the carriage behind his London home.
Rowena stood back. Their aunt, Helene, had not joined them. Her arthritis made walking almost impossible for her and thus she tended to remain confined to a chair in the living room.
“Thank you ever so much, Uncle, for everything you’ve done,” Christopher felt himself growing emotional as his uncle smiled at him.
“You are like sons to me, the both of you. Especially given that your aunt and I were not blessed with any of our own. Now, you had better hurry.”
He patted Henry and Christopher on the back and made his way inside the house. Henry climbed into the waiting carriage, leaving Christopher alone with Rowena.
“My dear,” he walked up to her, placing one hand on her face. She pushed her cheek into his hand and closed her eyes. “All will be well. I promise I will return Betsy back to you safe and sound, and then we will wed.”
“It is all I can hope for, Christopher. And you are right, with Betsy telling my parents about the poor behavior of the Duke of Thornmouth, they will have no choice but allow us to wed.”
“Indeed, you will see. You will be my wife and the Duchess of Westmond before weeks end,” he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the mouth. She returned his kiss, stroking his hair.
Then, they parted, and he climbed into the carriage, leaving her behind in the care of his aunt and uncle.
They had traveled for almost five hours, stopping only to change the horses who were driven fast and hard by the coachman.
Despite the violent bumping, Christopher had been able to get some rest when Henry shook him awake.
“Topher, we are almost here.” He blinked his eyes as he woke. Outside, darkness had swallowed the world. Up ahead, several brightly lit windows from a manor illuminated the night.
Christopher leaned out the window.
“Mr. Thorpe, stop the carriage here,” he called and it slowed to a halt.
“It is best to keep some distance from the house. In case Lord Portsmouth decides to put up a fight. I’d rather not have him attempt to hinder our exit.”
Henry sighed. “These are not the best waking shoes, I will have you know,” he said and pointed at his elegant shoes.
“You should have listed to Uncle Nestor,” with that Christopher jumped out of the carriage and made his way toward grand mansion, with Henry close behind.
They were almost at the front door, preparing themselves to knock, when Henry grabbed Christopher’s arm.
“Look!” There was alarm in his voice and Christopher frantically foll
owed his gaze.
There, just above their heads, was a window on the first floor which stood open. A long rope, strung together out of what looked like bedsheets hung from it. On it, dangling precariously, was a woman.
“Betsy?” Christopher said, although not loud enough for the woman to hear.
The woman slid down the makeshift rope rather too speedily, a yelp escaping from her mouth.
“Topher, quickly, give me a boost. I’ll climb up on your shoulders. I should be able to reach her and assist her down that way.”
A Forbidden Waltz With the Dashing Duke Page 21
