“No! You can not leave me,” Miss Sommersby pleaded.
“I must. Do not worry, it will not be long,” he promised. He turned and strode off.
As the sound of her pleading died off behind him, he realized that he wasn’t quite sure how he had found the tower. He had been so focused on following Miss Sommersby’s voice that he had not paid much attention to his surroundings. Game tracks crisscrossed the woods, and he tried to recall just which track he had followed in. Was it that one to the left? Hadn’t he passed a fallen log just before he came into the clearing? Yes, that was it. Over there. As he started down the track, the rain began to fall. He sighed, but continued on, pausing every few paces to bend tree branches to point the way back.
He walked on as the rain grew heavier, and the light diminished until even he could see that there was no point in continuing on. With heavy heart he followed the trail of broken branches back to Miss Sommersby.
When he returned, he saw that she was not on the boulder where he had left her. “Miss Sommersby?”
“In here,” she replied. He went inside the tower and found her sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall where the remnants of the original roof provided a modicum of shelter from the rain. Since she could not walk, she must have crawled in there, and he felt a stab of guilt for having left her alone.
She looked around. “Where are they?”
“They, er, I did not find them. And when the rain started, I thought it best to return here to see if you were all right.”
Her lower lip trembled. “You mean we are lost?”
“We are not lost. I know where we are,” he said testily. They were at the ruined tower. He just wasn’t quite certain in which direction the river lay. But he was certain he could find it, as soon as the rain stopped. “Once the rain stops, I will start out again,” he promised.
“What if it never stops?” she demanded. “Why haven’t the others come to find us?”
“If they are sensible, they have sought shelter as we have.”
“If they do not come soon, we will have to spend the night,” she wailed. Her tears began again in earnest.
It was a conclusion he had reached himself. And he could not imagine a greater catastrophe. His reputation might just have survived being alone in the woods with Miss Sommersby, provided that he had found her quickly and just as expeditiously returned her to the others. But it had been hours now, and the rain showed no signs of letting up. She was already compromised. Spending the night together would just be the final nail in his coffin.
“This never would have happened if you hadn’t wandered off on your own,” he said angrily.
Miss Sommersby buried her face in her hands and continued crying. She shivered with the cold. He stripped off his own jacket and dropped it on her. “Put this on,” he said gruffly. Then he found himself a seat, as far away from her as he could get and still be inside the tower.
She put on his jacket. It was absurdly large on her; the sleeves extended past her hands. Eventually she stopped crying and wiped her eyes with one sleeve before rolling both up.
“Better now?” he asked.
“Yes.” She sniffed. “But there is no reason for you to be mean to me.”
There was every reason in the world. Unless they were discovered within the next hour, he would be honor-bound to marry this watering pot. He could not help wondering if this was indeed an unfortunate accident or if it was all part of some devious scheme.
“Tell me, Miss Sommersby,” he said. “Whatever happened to Edward Farquhar?”
“The beast ruined my life. He told me he loved me, and then he ran off with that freckle-faced Mary Richmond. How could he do such a thing?”
Ah. So much for her true soul mate. No doubt Farquhar had hurt her and made her look foolish. Perhaps her pursuit of him stemmed from a desire to prove to everyone that she could do better than a wastrel like Farquhar. Still, she looked so forlorn that he could not help feeling sorry for her. “You are better off without him,” he said, just as if she had been one of his sisters.
The rocks behind his back were uncomfortable. He shifted, trying to find a more suitable position. As he moved, the rain dripped down on him from the cracks in the roof. Eventually he gave up and resumed his old spot. He could hear the rain lashing against the tower walls and the occasional low rumble of distant thunder. The air in the tower smelled musty, as if animals had lived there once. But, looking around, he saw no recent sign of habitation.
“What should we do now?” she asked.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “We may be here a long while.”
And as the darkness closed in, he found himself wondering how on earth he would break this dreadful news to Anne. For unless a miracle occurred, he would be forced to marry Miss Sommersby. He knew Anne would understand that there was no other honorable course. But would she ever forgive him?
And could he ever forgive himself?
His future stretched out before him, bleak and empty.
Sixteen
During the night, the rain stopped. As the dawn broke, Freddie rose, his muscles protesting after the uncomfortable sleep. He shook Miss Sommersby awake so that she would not arise to find him gone. Then he set off. This time he was able to find his way to the river, and he followed the path to the stone circle.
There was no sign of Ajax. Nor was there any sign of the party, save for the small patch of ground where the cook fire had been. He debated walking to the main road, but decided it made better sense to wait here. Before an hour had passed, he heard the sound of a carriage.
“My lord!” exclaimed his coachman, John, as he drove into the clearing. “I am right glad to see you.”
“And I you,” Freddie replied. Would to God they had arrived yesterday.
In addition to the carriage, there were half-a-dozen grooms mounted on horses, no doubt to help search the woods.
John drew the carriage to a stop. “I wasn’t sure if we would find you here. We have men checking every inn and cottage where you might have taken shelter.”
The coachman’s words extinguished any hope that they might be able to keep this matter private. With his servants beating the woods for him, everyone in the county would know what had happened before nightfall.
“And Miss Sommersby?” the coachman asked.
“She has injured her ankle,” Freddie replied. He pointed to two of the grooms, “You two, follow me, and we will go fetch her. John, you can wait here. The rest of you, go back and call off the search.”
The two grooms followed him to the tower, leading a horse behind them. Miss Sommersby was placed on the horse, brought back to the circle and then transferred to the carriage. With no spare horses, Freddie was forced to ride in the carriage with her. The trip back to the hall was made in nearly complete silence.
It was nearly midmorning when they returned home. Miss Sommersby still being unable to walk, Freddie summoned a footman to carry the girl inside. He followed along behind her.
As soon as they entered the house; they were immediately surrounded. Besides the servants, he saw his mother, his sister Priscilla and Miss Sommersby’s parents.
“Freddie!” Priscilla exclaimed, wrapping him in a quick embrace. “I was afraid something perfectly dreadful had happened.”
He gently untangled Priscilla’s arms from around his neck. “As you see we are fine, although somewhat worse for the wear.”
“Oh, my poor, poor, lamb. My poor dear,” Mrs. Sommersby said, clucking over her daughter.
“George, we need to have a discussion,” his mother said.
Now? She couldn’t be serious. “Certainly,” he said. “Once I have bathed and changed.”
“There is no time for that,” Lady Frederick snapped.
He could feel the trap closing in on him.
“We need to settle this, at once,” Mr. Sommersby said.
“I am at your disposal,” Freddie responded. “But perhaps Miss Sommersby will be more co
mfortable resting in her room until the physician arrives?”
“Yes, please,” Miss Sommersby said.
“No, puss. This concerns you too,” her father declared.
Every bone in Freddie’s body ached with exhaustion. He was not ready for this confrontation. But there was no putting it off.
He nodded.
His mother turned and led the way to the nearest salon, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Sommersby. The footman carrying Miss Sommersby came next, followed by Freddie and lastly by Priscilla.
Freddie paused for a moment in the hall. “Prissy,” he said, reverting to her childhood nickname, “what happened?”
For once his sister looked serious and wise beyond her years. “It was the most awful thing,” she said. “When we came back to the clearing, you were nowhere in sight, and Ajax was gone. I thought you must have decided to ride home with Mama. So we left. It wasn’t till we all met up at home that we realized you weren’t with either party. By then, it was raining and nearly dark. Mr. Sommersby wanted to send servants out looking for you, but Mama said they would never find you in the storm. Mrs. Sommersby fainted, and Mr. Sommersby swore and called you all sorts of names.”
He nodded. It made sense, if one didn’t question how Ajax had managed to free himself from his hobbles and wander off. Nor did it explain why his mother had told everyone Miss Sommersby was leaving and then had let the girl wander off to pick flowers. But all he had were vague suspicions. And they did not erase the fact that he had spent the night with an unmarried young woman.
“You’re going to have to marry her, aren’t you?” Priscilla asked.
“It looks that way.”
“This is all my fault. I wish I had never invited her.”
He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. But there was nothing he could say. Mere wishes would not change what had happened.
Freddie started toward the parlor. When Priscilla made to follow, he shooed her away. “Go. There is no need for you to witness this.”
As he entered the room, he found himself the focus of all eyes.
Miss Sommersby reclined on a sofa, her wounded ankle propped up on a pillow. Her mother sat by her side, holding her daughter’s hand. Lady Frederick sat across from Miss Sommersby, while Mr. Sommersby, the outraged father, had chosen to stand.
“So, young man,” he said, “would you like to explain how it is that you came to treat my daughter in such a disgraceful fashion?”
Freddie’s back stiffened. He had done nothing disgraceful. On the contrary, he had behaved as a perfect gentleman. And he had never taken kindly to being patronized. “Perhaps your daughter would like to explain why she took it into her head to wander off into the woods so that she had to be rescued?”
Mr. Sommersby’s eyes turned to his daughter.
“I was lost, Papa,” Miss Sommersby said, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “And then I fell and twisted my ankle. Lord Frederick found me, and he would have brought me back, I am sure, but, well, the rain started, and then…”
It was a performance worthy of Drury Lane.
“What your daughter is trying to explain is that we sought shelter in the ruined tower until the storm had passed, and were forced to spend the night. I give you my word that nothing passed between us. I behaved as a perfect gentleman.”
“Well, that is neither here nor there,” Mr. Sommersby blustered. “What matters is what people will say once they hear my daughter has spent the night with a rake like you.”
“I have been called many things before. But never a rake,” Freddie said with quiet determination.
“Of course you behaved with honor. You are my son, after all,” Lady Frederick said. “Still, there are appearances to be considered. There is only one thing you can do. You and Miss Sommersby must be wed.”
“Indeed. It is the least you can do for my poor girl,” her father said, then spoiled the effect by rubbing his hands together as if well pleased by this turn of events.
Ever since he had found Miss Sommersby in the ruins, Freddie had known that it would come to this. His mother was right. He was a gentleman, and as a gentleman it was left to him to do the honorable thing.
He opened his mouth to agree. But the word that he spoke was “No.”
“No? What do you mean no?” Mr. Sommersby barked.
“No,” Freddie said, relishing the taste of the word on his tongue. “I will not marry your daughter.”
He could not have shocked them more if he had announced that he was a murderer.
“But you must,” Mrs. Sommersby said.
“If this is a jest, it is a poor one,” Lady Frederick said. “Of course you will marry Miss Sommersby.”
He felt a strange reckless pleasure as he realized that he meant what he said. For once in his life he would choose happiness over duty, and be damned to the consequences.
He looked over at Miss Sommersby. “I am sorry, Miss Sommersby, but I do not think we will suit, and I will not be forced into marriage. I can live down a little scandal. Can you?”
Miss Sommersby sat bolt upright. “But you must marry me,” she said. “Your mother said you would.”
“My mother does not rule my life. I will stand by any story you care to tell, challenge anyone who dares slur your reputation. But I can not—I will not—marry you.”
She blinked uncertainly at him. “You, you utter beast!” she exclaimed. Then she jumped up and ran from the room.
Freddie watched her depart. “I see Miss Sommersby’s ankle has made a miraculous recovery,” he observed dryly.
Mr. Sommersby was taken aback, but only for a moment. “Now, sir, don’t think I will let you get away with this—”
“Nor will I let Miss Sommersby trap me into marriage. For it seems to me that this was, indeed, not the accident it first appeared,” Freddie said, giving his mother a hard glance. Under his scrutiny his mother flushed. “I thought as much.”
Rage washed over him as he realized how close he had come to letting them ruin his life. And as quickly as the rage came, it passed, leaving him feeling wearier than ever.
He turned his attention back to the Sommersbys. “I take my leave of you. I will say nothing about these events, but I expect you and your daughter to be gone from this house before the sun sets.”
And with that he turned on his heel and left.
The morning after Anne returned from Plymouth, she sent a note to Freddie asking that he call on her at his earliest convenience. Much to her surprise, she found that he had taken her at her word, and when the footman returned to the Manor Freddie accompanied him.
As Freddie entered her sitting room, she could see at once that he had been under some type of strain. There were lines of tiredness on his face, and his eyes sparkled brightly with fever or excitement.
“Freddie, is something wrong?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I have been hopelessly compromised. According to my mother, I will shortly become an outcast from polite society,” he said with a laugh.
“You are jesting,” she accused.
“No, I mean it in all seriousness. Miss Sommersby, with, I suspect, the connivance of my mother, managed to lure me into a compromising position. You can imagine their surprise when I spoiled their plans by refusing to marry the chit.”
Her heart, which had stopped for a moment at the mention of Miss Sommersby, began to beat again. Could this really be true? “But how? And why?” She had never known Freddie to refuse to do the honorable thing.
“Because I love you,” he said simply. “And I was not about to let them ruin our lives.”
She did not know what to say.
Freddie ran one hand through his hair. “Damn it, I meant to do better than this. It must be the lack of sleep has fuzzed my brain.”
He crossed the few feet that separated them, and bent down on one knee before her. Taking her right hand between his, he said, “Anne, I can never give you up. I did not know what you meant to me until you
were gone. These last six years I have been a sleepwalker, passing through life but never touching it. When I found you again, it was like finding a piece of my soul that I had thought lost forever.”
He tipped his head up so he was looking straight into her eyes. “Say you will marry me. I will do whatever you want. I will claim Ian as my own. If you ask, I will go off with you to Canada and make a new life as a fur-trader. I will do anything you ask if only you promise that you will be mine.”
It was an impassioned and utterly impractical proposal. And yet there was no doubt that he was sincere in his declaration of love. He had told her how much he loved Beechwood Park and how he could never imagine living anywhere else, but here he was, offering to give up everything for her.
Anne’s heart felt as if it would burst. A smile split her face in two. “Stand up, you foolish man,” she said.
“Not until you say yes.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Now stand up and kiss me.”
He rose with alacrity and kissed her with a thoroughness that both shocked and delighted her. When he finally lifted his head, they were both breathless.
“Oh, my,” she said.
“Oh, my,” he echoed, giving her a look that heated her blood and made her heart race.
He gave a crooked smile. “So what is it to be? Will you be Viscountess Frederick? Or should I start packing for Canada?”
She knew, in the part of her that had always known him, that he would do whatever she asked. She did not know what she had done to deserve such a good man, and vowed that she would spend the rest of her life making him happy.
“I love you,” she declared. “And I love your kindness in offering to go to Canada. But, if you are willing to endure the scandal that will result, I choose to stay.”
“It will be a nine days’ wonder, if that,” Freddie said. “But my friends will stand by us, as will Elizabeth and the rest of my sisters. And as for my mother, it seems she has developed a sudden urge to travel abroad. I believe Italy was mentioned.”
“I am sorry,” Anne said, knowing that his mother’s rejection must have hurt Freddie.
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