The Resolute Runaway

by Charlotte Louise Dolan

  Doing her best to make it appear that she was exerting a great effort, Dorie slowly opened her eyes. “I ... drank the ... wine ... Can’t get married if I’m ...” Then, as if her eyelids were too heavy to keep open, she allowed them to shut, and made her breathing as slow and even as possible.

  Really, Lord Blackstone’s curses and oaths were rather unimaginative. Billy had used much more colorful expressions the time one of the horses had trodden on his foot.

  The hardest part was when they arrived in Gretna Green and she had to continue to lie there motionless. Doing nothing was not one of her special talents. Not only that, but she had one arm twisted under her in such a way that it had gone to sleep, which meant it was going to hurt like the devil when she finally moved.

  After about half an hour she heard the coachman cry out for his master to come see something. Moments later the door to the carriage was jerked open. All her instincts screamed at her to leap up and run for her life, but her only real hope lay in continuing her charade. She was concentrating on remaining quiet when a man’s hand boldly grabbed her breast. Automatically and without thinking, she swung her arm and felt immense satisfaction when her fist connected with the owner of the hand.

  Her satisfaction was as nothing compared to Blackstone’s. “So, all this time you have been shamming. I suspected at once when my coachman showed me the coach was ‘bleeding’ red wine. It was a clever trick, but it has availed you nothing. Whether you are willing or not, the time has now come for us to say our vows.”

  “On the contrary, I refuse to leave this coach,” Dorie hissed. “You will have to drag me bodily before the vicar—I shall never go willingly. How do you think that will look?”

  “With enough money, which I have, thanks to the donation of your ring, people can be persuaded to overlook anything, my sweet,” Blackstone replied quickly, looking as if he would derive a great deal of enjoyment out of laying his hands on her again.

  With a scowl, Dorie pushed past him and left the vehicle under her own power. Looking around, she was not impressed with what she saw. Gretna Green was a rather small village with nothing to lend it distinction. It would really have been quite insignificant and easily overlooked by a traveler coming upon it, were it not for its reputation as the site of hundreds of clandestine marriages.

  Well, you could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t make it drink. And Blackstone could carry her all the way to Scotland, but he could not make her say, “I do.” Nothing and nobody was going to make her utter a single word, she decided. Resolutely she clamped her jaws shut.

  * * * *

  “There’s his carriage! In front of the King’s Head!” Billy was bouncing up and down on the seat with excitement.

  Leaving Billy in charge of the horses, Alexander stormed into the inn, checking quickly in each room until he found the proper one. “Stop,” he bellowed in a voice loud enough to shake the rafters. “She can’t marry him—she’s already married to me. She’s my wife.”

  The man conducting the service did not blink an eye. Instead he turned to Miss Donnithorne and asked, “Is this true? Are you his wife?”

  With great glee she grinned at Blackstone and said in a clear voice, “Yes, I am married to Lord Glengarry. He is my husband.” Then she childishly stuck her tongue out at the earl.

  “That’s that, then,” said the stranger. Turning to Alexander, he said, “That’ll be five pounds, if you please.”

  “I’ll take care of the fee in a moment,” Alexander replied. “But first I have to deal with my Lord Blackheart.”

  “Since it appears that you have won the prize, I shall bow out gracefully,” Blackstone said suavely. “I see no need to duel with you now that you have won.”

  “Dueling is reserved for honorable men,” Alexander said in a low voice. “For curs like you, a thrashing is more appropriate.”

  Abruptly the earl bolted for the door, throwing a chair on the floor behind him, which action succeeded in delaying Alexander a few precious seconds. Never having seen a bout of fisticuffs, Dorie ran after the two men. Emerging into the sunshine, she was disappointed to see the two of them running madly round and round the earl’s carriage.

  Blackstone was bellowing for Pigot, his coachman, and the growing crowd of spectators was cheering and placing bets as to whether Scotland or England would win the footrace.

  In the end, the earl got away. Waiting until Pigot was in place with the horses ready to bolt, Blackstone managed to achieve just enough lead that he was able to scramble into the carriage and hold the door shut despite the determined assault by Glengarry.

  “He won’t get far,” Billy murmured beside Dorie. “While Glengarry was rescuing you, I loosened the pins what hold the wheels on the axles.”

  Dorie scarcely heard what he was saying. His other prey having escaped, Glengarry was now approaching her. She began to wish that Nicholas had been the one to come after her. The look on the Scotsman’s face was... She couldn’t figure out what his expression meant.

  She felt the urge to turn and run the way Blackstone had, but she was made of sterner stuff than that coward. She would never run from any man. Stiffening her back and trying to keep her knees from trembling, she waited, hoping that she looked calmer than she felt.

  That she was in for a lecture, she did not doubt. And she had to admit Glengarry had every reason to scold after what she had—

  Without uttering a word, he scooped her up in his arms, to the delight of the crowd, which had hung around watching even after the earl had made his escape.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. “Put me down this instant!”

  Instead of putting her down, he carried her back into the King’s Head. “I want the best room in the house for me and my wife,” he said loudly.

  Dorie had never been so mortified in her life. No, not mortified—angry! He had come to her rescue like a knight in shining armor, an image that had been only slightly tarnished when he had childishly chased Blackstone around the carriage, but now, to treat her as if she were a common doxy, as if, having been rescued, she had no choice but to be his mistress. It was the outside of enough!

  There was nothing calm about her voice when she screeched at him, “Put me down! How dare you say I am your wife! You know perfectly well that was just a lie to stop Blackstone from forcing me to marry him!” She tried to wiggle out of Glengarry’s arms, but he was holding her too firmly.

  “Begging your pardon, m’lady,” the landlord said, “but you just married this man not ten minutes ago.”

  Dorie ceased her struggling. “What do you mean, I just married him? Have your wits gone begging? Or are you trying to collect your fee without having performed the ceremony? Whatever you do, Glengarry, don’t pay this man, for he is a crook and a robber.”

  “In Scotland,” Glengarry explained, the laughter clear in his voice, “the only ceremony necessary is to say before witnesses that you are a man and a wife. I said you are my wife—you said I am your husband.”

  “That means you’re buckled as tight as if the Archbishop of Canterbury himself had hitched the two of you together,” the landlord said.

  “This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” Dorie said, sneaking a peek up at the man who was now—apparently—her husband. “And I suppose that to get a divorce, all you have to say is, ‘I divorce you’?”

  The landlord had the nerve—the gall—to laugh. “Why, no, m’lady. Divorce is nigh impossible in Scotland. And England recognizes Scottish marriages, no matter how hastily or inadvertently they are entered into.”

  “About the room?” Alexander said pleasantly.

  The landlord led the way up the stairs and Alexander followed, still carrying Dorie, who was having trouble assimilating the knowledge that she was married for life to this ... this ... this deceitful man.

  He had tricked her! He had pretended to come to her rescue, and then he had taken advantage of her ignorance of Scottish law. Well, if he thought she
was going to become a meek, complacent wife, he was dead wrong.

  Left alone at last, she began his education. “Put me down,” she ordered.

  He obeyed, although he did not actually release her. She should, really, order him to unhand her, but it was rather pleasant being in his arms.

  “The first thing I want to know is, do you intend to take me back to London?”

  “No,” he replied promptly. “I intend to take you to my castle in the Highlands.”

  Dorie began to think he was not half bad. In fact, she was starting to feel quite in charity with him. “I have always wanted to sail around the world,” she said in an argumentative voice.

  “Well,” he countered, “I already have a small boat and can teach you to sail on the loch by my castle. If you do not become seasick the first time out, we can buy a larger ketch and try sailing to the Western Isles.”

  She considered for a moment, knowing there were many other demands she should make before she accepted him as her husband, but standing so close to him, feeling his large hands on her waist, made it hard for her to think clearly.

  “But I think, my love, that first I shall teach you something else—something much more exciting than sailing,” he said.

  He is going to kiss me, she thought, finally admitting to herself that she had been waiting for this moment ever since he had almost kissed her the night of the cockfight. Reaching up to touch his lips, she murmured, “I think you will find me a most apt pupil.”

  “On that score, I have never had the slightest doubt,” he said. “And I think you will find me a very patient teacher.”

  Hours later she was forced to agree that sharing a bed with Alexander was the most exciting thing she had ever done in her life ... and the most thoroughly satisfying. In fact, she was so content with her new husband, she doubted she would ever wish to be anywhere but at his side—a notion he thoroughly approved of when she told him.

  * * * *

  The mood at the breakfast table was not exactly congenial, Joanna had to admit. Nicholas was acting as if he had a sore head, and she herself was too worried about Dorie to make any attempt at polite conversation.

  Only Aunt Theo burst out laughing. “Oh, it serves her right! Listen to this ...” She began reading aloud from the paper, “‘Married by special license, Lieutenant Peter Gryndle and Miss Belinda Dillon.’ Oh, I would dearly love to know how that came about. Mrs. Dillon told me herself in the greatest confidence that an earl had already come up to scratch but that they were holding out for a marquess at the very least. You can rest assured that there is something quite havey-cavey about this. As if anyone would believe they have willingly settled for a mere half-pay officer.”

  Rustling the paper, she continued unabated. “You may count on it, the Dillons will try to gloss it over. More than likely they will claim it is a love match, but if they will take my advice, they will leave town until the talk dies down.”

  Suddenly her cheerful good humor deserted her. “Well, of all the nerve! Really, the Gazette is becoming quite irresponsible these days. Imagine, someone has inserted an announcement saying that Lord Glengarry married my daughter yesterday in Edinburgh. You would think they would check their facts before printing such a thing; I vow, I am tempted to sue them for libel. Nicholas,” she said sharply, “you must go down to their offices this morning and force them to print a retraction.”

  “Well, I admit it was undoubtedly Gretna Green and not Edinburgh, but I hardly think you will wish to have that fact published far and wide.”

  “What are you saying? My daughter is upstairs in her room covered with spots.”

  “Your daughter is in Scotland, undoubtedly covered with—’

  “Nicholas! There is no need to be crude!” Joanna stated before hurrying around the table to try to comfort Aunt Theo, who was, of course, having the hysterics.

  “But, madam,” Joanna said soothingly, “only consider, your new son-in-law is not a half-pay officer like Gryndle. Glengarry is a peer, and though he is only a baron, it is quite an old and very respected title, and his English relatives are also of the first stare.” Her attempt to calm Aunt Theo was having little effect, but resolutely Joanna continued her efforts.

  “And people will think you a regular slyboots, hiding the fact that Dorie has made what will doubtless be considered one of the premier matches of the Season.”

  “Oh, oh,” Aunt Theo moaned, “I cannot bear the thought of all the gossip—all the idle speculation that is sure to result from this announcement. Oh, if only dearest Simon had not taken my darling Florie off to Italy. What an ungrateful daughter Dorie is! I have done everything a mother could do to cure her of her hoydenish ways! She shall be the death of me before I get her safely off my hands!”

  Joanna immediately leapt on the last complaint. “Only consider, dear madam, that Dorie is now already off your hands—for good.”

  After a few more moans, which became less and less forceful, the older woman said petulantly, “I need to go up to my room. I am quite burnt to the socket with all this racketing around that we have been doing. I declare, I am too old to chaperone young girls, and I do not know why my kindness and generosity must be so imposed upon.”

  Stricken to the core, Joanna sank back down onto her chair. Making no further effort to console the older woman, she watched in silence as the footman helped Aunt Theo totter from the room.

  “My aunt spoke without thinking,” Nicholas said. “She is actually quite fond of you, and she dearly loves racketing around London.”

  “Do not try to make me think that at this moment she does not wish me off her hands, for I shall not believe you.”

  There was a long silence before Nicholas spoke again. “Walrond has come into a large inheritance, and he has asked permission to speak to you. I have told him he may come at eleven this morning. I trust these arrangements meet with your approval?”

  Joanna felt chilled to the marrow. It would seem that Nicholas had meant what he said when he had fervently wished he were not responsible for chaperoning two young females. Now that he had Dorie off his hands, he apparently could not wait to dispose of her also.

  Rising to her feet, she said calmly, “I shall be ready at eleven, then.”

  Nicholas scowled up at her, and she knew what his expression betokened—he could not make it more obvious that he expected her to accept this offer, which was better than any penniless orphan such as herself had a right to expect.

  Chapter 15

  “Well, am I to wish you happy?”

  Joanna looked up from her packing to see Nicholas standing in the door to her room. “No, I told Mr. Walrond that we would not suit and that I have made other plans.”

  “Other plans?” Nicholas stepped forward into her room, which was not exactly the proper thing for a gentleman to do, but then, what did propriety matter after all the days she had spent traveling alone with him?

  “Yes, Lady Letitia has found me a position as companion to Lady Glengarry—”

  “Dorie? That’s ridiculous! You cannot possibly want to subject yourself to her mad starts any longer.”

  “No, not Dorie—I am speaking of the dowager Lady Glengarry, Alexander’s mother. She lives in Edinburgh, and I am—”

  “You turned down a perfectly respectable offer from Walrond in order to run away to Scotland?”

  Nicholas was sounding really angry now, but Joanna was not about to buckle under and blindly obey his dictatorial orders. Just how and when did he get it fixed in his mind that he had any right to pick out her husband?

  “You make it sound as if I am eloping. Well, I am not as irresponsible as your cousin—I am not ‘running away’ to Scotland, as you put it. I am traveling on the mail, which is completely respectable, to take up a position as companion to an elderly lady who is also completely respectable. You can hardly expect me to continue forever as a charity case, living off your brother-in-law’s generosity.”

  “You don’t have to live off his charit
y—you can get married.”

  “To whom? Walrond? No, thank you. I am not the least bit attached to him.”

  “Or to me!”

  There was dead silence in the room while they stared at each other.

  “Why should I marry you?” she asked, praying that he would say because he loved her.

  “Because I promised your brother—”

  Turning back to her packing, she said firmly, “Botheration, are you harping on that again? Really, I wish you would play another tune. I absolve you from any commitment you feel you may have made to my brother.”

  “And I promised you I would be like another brother to you—”

  Her voice shaking with rage at his obtuseness, she said, “And I find that I do not need a brother’s protection any longer. I am a grown woman who is fully capable of taking charge of her own life. Find some other unfortunate girl to browbeat!”

  “Browbeat? Browbeat! Here is thanks for you!” Turning on his heel, Nicholas stalked out of the room.

  I am not going to cry, Joanna thought. I am not going to cry. I will be brave. Traveling the length of England by myself is a mere trifle. Why, I could go around the world by myself if I set my mind to it. I have the courage to do anything I have to do.

  And if Lady Letitia is not correct in her suspicions, and if Nicholas does not love me, and if he does not follow me to Scotland, what then?

  Then I shall be brave enough to make another life for myself, Joanna thought, doing her best to be resolute. After all, she had only to hide her secret fears until eight o’clock this evening when she would board the mail. Once she was safely out of London, she could cry all the way to Scotland if she was of a mind to, provided she did it quietly enough that she did not bother the other passengers.

  * * * *

  Charging into his aunt’s bedroom, Nicholas said without preamble, “Aunt Theo, you must help me talk some sense into that witless girl.”

  His aunt was lying on her bed with a vinegar-soaked cloth over her eyes, while her maid scurried around the room folding items of clothing and packing them in an assortment of trunks, portmanteaux, and bandboxes.