An Officer, Not a Gentleman: A Traditional Regency Romance (Brethren in Arms Book 3)

by Elizabeth Johns

“Here he comes; smile, you look a fright. You must engage him to dance,” a conniving mother warned.

  “I heard he is not dancing, Mama. He has war injuries,” the daughter added dreamily.

  “Then you must find a way, Harriet,” the mother scolded. Bridget felt sorry for the girl who looked very young in her white ruffles.

  Bridget had not known Tobin was not dancing. Was his leg paining him? She leaned forward a little to try and get a glimpse of him, but instead her heart clenched when she saw Riordan enter the ballroom. It was very late and she knew he was not invited. What was he doing here?

  He was very handsome in his black evening wear, including a pale green waistcoat. He was almost as handsome as Tobin, but she was biased. Even Bridget had to acknowledge Riordan turned heads. She was quite tempted to jump over the banister and strangle him until he told her where her money was.

  He was looking around and people had taken notice of him. So had Tobin. He approached Riordan where he stood, a few steps higher than the ballroom. The two of them, standing next to each other, were nothing short of splendid. The young ladies giggled and simpered while the older ladies waved their fans and whispered to each other.

  Bridget realized she was holding her breath and let it out. She had to think quickly. Could her cousin still be harbouring delusions that she would marry him? Or did he mean to take her by force? She frowned and sat down. Perhaps it was best just to confront her cousin. She noticed he wore a black arm band, but that did not prevent him from attending a ball.

  Bridget should have left earlier. She had meant to be gone before the ball started. Escaping amongst the crowd entering would have been easy. Now, however, she needed to know what her cousin had done—if he would have the courage to tell her to her face.

  She climbed down the narrow, spiral staircase to the floor below, and found she was in the servants’ hall behind the ballroom. Pausing, she pondered how she could get her cousin’s attention in order to speak with him alone. Tobin was likely to throw him out if he had his way.

  Bridget hurried around to the front entrance and waited in the shadows. If he was looking for her to be dancing, he would be disappointed.

  It was not long until the Duke and Tobin exited the ballroom, one on either side of her cousin. She did not want them to see her. It would only make things more difficult.

  “I will leave on my own,” Dungarvan said, holding his hands up. “There is no need to throw me out bodily. I only came to beg my cousin’s forgiveness.”

  “I will pass on your apologies, but you would do better to return what is rightfully hers,” Tobin growled.

  “I do not know what you mean.” Riordan proclaimed innocence.

  “You mean for us to believe you did not steal her inheritance?”

  “Why would I do that when I want to marry her? Besides, I learned only recently of my uncle’s death!”

  Somehow, Bridget believed him, though he could have borrowed on the assumption.

  “We shall see,” Waverley said. “We will call on you tomorrow and discuss this further. Now we must return to our guests.”

  Riordan gave a curt nod of his head and straightened his coat before walking out. There was only a small audience within earshot, but no doubt every word would be repeated in tomorrow’s drawing rooms.

  After Waverley and Tobin had gone back into the ballroom, Bridget escaped through the front door. Her cousin was walking at a fast pace, no doubt due to anger or humiliation, and Bridget almost had to run to catch up to him.

  “Rory!” she called breathlessly.

  “Bridget?” He turned, surprise clear upon his face and in his stance.

  “You wished to speak with me?”

  Riordan glanced around. “I did.” He looked sheepish, like the boy who had been her playmate years ago. “I had hoped to convince you to reconsider my offer. I must humbly apologize for the circumstances in which we parted in Ireland.”

  He seemed sincere. Bridget was still cautious and needed him to say it to her face. “I can forgive you for that, but Rory, why did you steal my inheritance? It was what I was counting on to live.”

  He frowned. “I have done nothing of the sort.”

  “Then why are all Father’s accounts, including the one containing my dowry, empty?”

  “I have no idea.” He held out his hands. “Do you think I would do that to you? I may be a bit under the hatches, but nothing to warrant theft. I truly thought you would wish to marry me and you know how Mama can be.”

  “I am surprised she allowed you to leave.”

  “Only under the condition that I bring back a bride. When I arrived, I heard you were not yet married, and I thought to try again without Mama’s interference.”

  Bridget was more confused than ever. Would it be so horrible to be married to Rory if his mother were gone? It would have to be a white marriage, though, which is more than she would ever have if she went into service. For some reason she believed Rory had not taken her money.

  She closed her eyes and made a decision. “If we were to marry, would you let me live independently? You would keep your properties, would you not?”

  “We get along well, cousin. Why not live in the luxury of Dungarvan House?”

  “I do not think I could bear my aunt’s company, and frankly, I could not look the other way when you took lovers. It would be best to start as we mean to go on.”

  Riordan stared at her, his expression thoughtful as he evidently considered her offer.

  “What about your lieutenant?”

  “He no longer needs me, as you can see,” she answered quietly. “You could look much higher in a bride yourself.”

  “Do not sell yourself short, cousin.”

  “I have no dowry, and I am the impoverished daughter of the second son of a baron.”

  “And you were far above his touch before,” he argued, far too astutely for her comfort.

  “Are you really trying to dissuade me now, when before you held me at gunpoint?”

  Riordan inclined his head. “The previous proposal was not well done of me. I did not know the whole of the story and Mother was threatening me. I believe it is all sorted now.”

  Bridget was not so sure her aunt could ever be sorted.

  “You love him,” Riordan said softly, looking into her eyes.

  “What would you have done for the one you loved?”

  He looked away, not prepared for the question.

  “I will meet you in the mews in half an hour. I must send someone a note.” She would have to let Dr. Wheeler know she would not be taking the position. If only she could be certain this would be a better fate.

  Chapter 19

  When Tobin saw Dungarvan, he had wanted to draw his cork right there in front of the entire ton. That would show them how refined he really was, he had thought with pleasurable malice. Mincing around a ballroom and smiling at young girls with spots was not Tobin’s place in life. If Waverley had not held him back, Dungarvan would be spouting blood all over the ballroom floor at this very minute.

  It was fortunate for him that Tobin needed to see Bridget. Thankfully, she would have no idea her cousin had come, and Tobin had to convince her to come downstairs for his announcement. He intended to do it after the supper dance, when his father introduced him as his heir.

  Bridget would kill him, he thought with a grin as he mounted the stairs to knock on her chamber door. He waited expectantly but there was no answer. Could she have fallen asleep? It was hard to fathom how she might with the noise from the ballroom, but she had looked exhausted earlier, at dinner. He found the door unlocked and opened it to peer inside. There was no light burning in the sitting room, so he took one of the tapers waiting for guests and lit it from one of the sconces. Her bedroom was also dark and he held the light up over her bed. It was still made up. Where could she be? Was she watching the ball? Perhaps she was in the small alcove above the ballroom. Even he knew of it from his days as Waverley’s man. He had little time to searc
h because, as the guest of honour, he would be missed. He held the taper aloft to exit the room and a piece of parchment caught his eye. He leaned closer and saw his name scrolled across the back.

  He cursed profusely and tore open the seal.

  Dearest Tobin,

  This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but in time, you will see that I have made the right decision. The time we had together is more precious than riches to me, and I will carry the memories of our friendship with me like treasures. Please do not worry or come after me out of honour. I will have the funds from the sale of the house and Maria and I will set up a household in the country somewhere. Find someone who can be your helpmeet in this new life of yours. But most importantly, be happy.

  All my love,

  Bridget

  He ran down the stairs back to the ballroom and searched for the Duke and Duchess. They were waltzing. Of course, they would be when he needed them most. Where could she have gone? He racked his brain while he waited for the dance to end. Back to her family’s house? Would she have gone there with only her maid? It was worth a try. She could have been gone for hours by now! The maid! Most likely, Bridget would have taken her wherever she went, but Tobin found a footman and asked him to see if Maria was in the house. If she was, he wanted to speak with her immediately. Maids always knew what their mistresses were about.

  The Duke and Duchess finished their dance before the footman returned. Although Tobin pulled them aside, he had to wait to show them the letter until the guests had gone into the supper room.

  They read the letter together.

  “Why would she do this?” the Duke asked.

  “Now things are beginning to make sense. She asked me to find her maid a position here. She said she was too old to see to her needs any more. Of course, I agreed,” the Duchess added. “We must go into supper now for your father to make his announcement. We cannot let it be seen that anything is wrong. I will have Jamison and Timmons investigate to see what they can find out.”

  “I have already asked one of the footmen to send for her maid,” Tobin said, feeling his scowl deepen.

  “Escort my Duchess into the supper room as though nothing is wrong. I will meet you in my study once you can discreetly get away.”

  Tobin wanted to scream with impatience. Instead, he had to smile and nod and act like a jolly fool as several toasts were made to him, his title, his parents and on and on.

  When he was finally able to escape to the study, trying not to run, he was champing at the bit with anxiety. Every possibility imaginable was going through his mind, but Lord Dungarvan had just been in the house. Was that a coincidence?

  Maria was sitting on the edge of a chair, sniffing and dabbing her red eyes with a handkerchief.

  “Anything?” Tobin asked as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

  Waverley pointed his hand in the direction of the maid. “Maria says Miss Murphy had taken a private nursing position in Norfolk.”

  “But—but she could not take me with her,” the maid sobbed.

  Tobin counted to ten. God save him from overwrought females! “Did she leave tonight?”

  She nodded. “On the common stage!”

  “When did she leave?”

  “Half an hour past,” she answered.

  Waverley looked at Jamison. “Find out which stage-coach and what time.” The secretary nodded and left the room.

  Tobin paced up and down fast enough to wear a hole in the carpet. Waverley handed him a drink.

  “Calm yourself. You need to have your wits to find her.”

  The butler entered, causing all of them to look up. Waverley opened it himself. It was Timmons with one of the footmen.

  “Speak, Thomas,” the butler demanded.

  “I saw Miss Murphy leave through the front doors right after you threw Lord Dungarvan out, your Grace.”

  A string of Gaelic profanities escaped Tobin’s lips and he did not care.

  “Did she come back?” Waverley asked.

  “I could not say, your Grace.”

  “Thank you, Thomas. If you think of anything else, please let us know immediately.”

  The footman bowed and left.

  “There is something else, your Grace. Miss Murphy asked me to have this delivered.” Timmons handed the Duke a letter addressed to a Dr. Wheeler.

  Waverley took the note. “Did she leave after that?”

  “No, she returned upstairs.”

  “Thank you, Timmons.”

  “Dr. Wheeler is one of the army surgeons, is he not?” Waverley asked. “He attended you in Brussels.”

  “It is possible,” Tobin answered. “I was not awake for much of that time.”

  Maria blew her nose violently. “He is the one who arranged the position for her in Norfolk. She was visiting with him at St. Bartholomew’s.”

  Waverley opened the note and read what appeared to be a hasty scrawl.

  Dear Dr. Wheeler,

  I will not be needing the position after all. Thank you for your kindness and willingness to help me. Godspeed in your future endeavours and I hope we will meet again under better circumstances.

  Your fond servant,

  Miss Bridget Murphy

  “Mallachdan. I am going to kill Dungarvan when I find him.”

  “Easy, Tobin. Perhaps she came to her senses. I will have Jamison make certain she does not board the stage, but it does not seem likely that is where she went. Timmons, see if you may discover whether Dungarvan has a house here or where his rooms might be, will you?”

  “I will go and ask Wrexford. He has some acquaintance with the family.” The ball was almost ended as the last set was playing, thank God. It took Tobin a few minutes to make his way through the remaining crowd to his father and mother. People were only wanting to congratulate him and wish him well, but he wished it was for a different reason entirely.

  “Tobin, there you are,” his mother said with a smile.

  “What is wrong, son?” Wrexford was frowning.

  “Bridget has left and we do not know where she is. We think she may have gone with Dungarvan, either with or without her consent. I could not say which. Do you know if he has a house in Town?” Tobin asked as quietly as he could.

  “Yes, I have dined there with his father before. ’Tis at the south end of Albermarle Street.”

  “Please make my excuses to the guests. I must go after her before she does something we will both regret.”

  “We will say our farewells with the Duchess,” his father assured him. “Thankfully, most of the guests have already taken their leave.”

  Tobin took a back way through the servants’ quarters on his return to avoid being turned from his purpose. He was out of breath when he reached the study.

  “Albermarle Street. I have already sent for the carriage.”

  Bridget was trying not to dwell on second thoughts as she and Riordan made their way across Mayfair. He had come back for her with a hackney and loaded her trunks in the back alley like a fugitive, except no one would notice she was gone until morning. Reminding herself that this had been her choice—that it was best for Tobin—kept her from jumping from the moving vehicle.

  Bridget was exhausted and she realized a fair amount of time had passed before she looked out of the window. Nothing was familiar.

  “Why are we not stopping?”

  Riordan gave a little shrug which she could barely detect by the light of the moon. “I decided we might as well get a start on our journey home. There is no need to delay now. It saves me the bother of opening the house.”

  “But I thought I could stay here after…” Why she was so stunned and angry, she could not say. “You said I could be independent. The marriage is only so you can retain the unentailed properties and I can be alone.”

  “Dearest cousin…” He shook his head in amusement. “There are certain appearances to maintain, and Mother would be devastated were we not to have a grand wedding.”

  “
I cannot! You know I am in mourning!”

  He gave her a pitying look.

  “Let me out, now, Rory,” she demanded.

  “Bridget.” His voice no longer implied the bored, lazy wastrel.

  “This is a mistake. I do not know what I was thinking, but I cannot marry you!” She began to panic as she realized he had no intention of adhering to their agreement.

  He sighed heavily. “I am afraid you leave me little choice.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked before he moved over to her side and grabbed her hands. The expression on his face at once made her begin to fear him.

  “You truly have no idea, do you?” Barking a derisive laugh and holding her hands too tightly, he shook his head. “We must make a minor detour now, and I must make certain you do not try to escape.”

  Her eyes widened with fear as he pulled a piece of rope from a satchel at his feet. Immediately, she began to fight him, flailing her arms and kicking out wildly. Her boot connected with a shin and he let out a yelp of pain.

  “Do not make me hurt you, cousin,” he growled. “If there were any other way…” His voice trailed off before he completed his sentence, “…but there is not.” He thrust her over onto her stomach and pulled her hands behind her back, tying them up so tightly she could scarcely breathe. He turned her over and set her back upright. “Do try to be comfortable. I will not be long.”

  She glared at him. “You do realize I have to consent to the marriage?”

  “Ideally,” he replied, before he stepped down from the carriage.

  After she heard his footsteps recede, she shuffled over to the window to try to see if there was any hope of escape. All she could see was darkness with the blackened expanse of a deep wood in the distance. They must be far from the city already, she realized, trying not to panic. She lifted her foot to the handle of the door, but she could not get adequate power to force it open. She fell to her knees and tried her mouth with more success. Unfortunately, the pressure required to push and pull simultaneously caused the door to give way, and she fell forward and found herself hanging head first out of the carriage.