A Summer Scandal (Seasons of Romance Book 3)

by Rachel Osborne

  In truth, he saw nothing at all, his mind already condemning him for such a reckless action as the one he had suggested to Louisa Turner. Running away from his own unwanted future was one thing. He would burn bridges with his aunt and cousin, but bridges could be mended in time and he put enough faith in his ability to charm that he thought it entirely likely he might win over his aunt at least a little. The whole of his inheritance would be gone, but she would no doubt soften and indulge him in a gift or two. But for Louisa, running away with a gentleman was to court scandal.

  It, too, would be forgiven. Once they were married, he had no doubt, they would be welcomed back if not quite with open arms then at least with tolerance and acceptance. He had to hope they would be, for Mr Turner was his last, best hope of securing any kind of fortune. It would not be much, for the Turners were not wealthy, but neither were they impoverished. Louisa’s sisters, too, had successfully secured wealthy matches that he felt at least a little certain of some care from those quarters. They would not wish to see their sister starve, at least.

  He kicked at a spot of gravel, loathing the turn his thoughts had taken. It was too cruel, to be placed in the position of begging simply because one wished to marry the young lady one chose, and not the one others chose for you. He would rather be penniless with Louisa Turner by his side than wealthy without her, wouldn’t he? He thought so. No, he knew so.

  Confident, then, that he was making the right decision, the only decision he could make in his position, he straightened, turning just as a certain young lady came hurrying towards him, glancing furtively around in a manner that did not serve to render her invisible, as she thought. Swallowing a curse, he strode forward, greeting Louisa and quickly drawing her to his side.

  “I have done it!” she giggled triumphantly. “Nobody even saw me leave. It will be hours before they miss me and think to search.” Her eyes sparkled with fun at what she thought of as a great adventure. Nash wished he could match her enthusiasm. He stopped walking, forcing her to look at him carefully and spoke with an urgency that scared even him.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Louisa? There will be no easy retreat once we make our move.”

  “Of course I am sure!” Louisa laughed, before the sight of Nash’s face made her smile fall. “Have you changed your mind?”

  Nash shook his head, drawing his lips into a tight smile. He hadn’t. Now that she was here, he was even more convicted of his course. He loved her, truly, he did, and he could not fathom a future where they would not be together. If courting scandal was the only way to ensure that, then let them court it. Hang society and its expectations. Hang Aunt Reed and her wealth! I will not allow her to use it to control me any longer!

  “Then why do you look so serious?” Louisa teased him, her smile growing. “We are embarking upon an adventure, Nash. The kind of romantic escape Julie could only dream of.” There was a hint of superiority in her smile. “How shocked she will be when she hears! How shocked all my sisters will be to realise, all along, that despite their claims to romance mine was one truly lifted from the pages of a novel!”

  Nash paused, wondering fleetingly if it was the promise of life with him or an adventure to rival that of each of her sisters combined, truly underpinned Louisa’s desire to flee London. He did not give the thought a moment to take root, though. They were here and they were together and that was all that mattered.

  “Have you made arrangements?” Louisa asked, as they continued to circle the path, conversing in whispers indistinguishable from a dozen other young courting couples.

  “I have secured us passage by stage,” Nash assured her. “We must join it in a few minutes, and it will take us north.”

  “To Scotland?” Louisa breathed, her excitement palpable.

  “Eventually.” Nash smiled, grimly, wondering if Louisa had any notion of the distance of the journey they were to embark upon. “We shall have to stop a time or two on the way.”

  Louisa’s expression fell and she struggled to conceal her surprise.

  “It is quite some distance to Scotland.”

  “But - surely people will catch up to us.” Louisa bit her lip. “My parents may not notice I am gone immediately, but they will notice. What is to say they will not come after us, or even overtake us on the road?”

  Nash sighed, patiently.

  “There is no guarantee of anything.” He shrugged, brusquely. “But if they discover us together it will not be too difficult to persuade them to consent to the marriage.”

  Louisa frowned, a little surprised by this shift in his usually easy-going attitude.

  “I am quite sure my father would have consented if you had proposed in the usual way,” she said, meekly. “I am not the one who is not free -”

  “This is our only option,” Nash insisted, holding Louisa’s arm so tightly that she yelped and he relinquished his hold with a muttered apology.

  “Come, let us take one more turn about the park before we go to meet the carriage. Our journey will be long, so we must make the most of fresh air and activity while it is afforded us.”

  This was the very best thing he might have said, for it allowed Louisa the chance to think of the future and chatter happily about all that lay ahead of them. Their flight and hasty marriage at Gretna Green - if they made it so far - was an obstacle. Far better to think beyond it, of the home they would build together, of their future happiness.

  Her voice was a balm to Nash’s soul, soothing his fractured nerves. Yes, this was the right course of action. It was risky, but what was not in these days? Without risk, there would be no reward, and he held his reward beside him. Let Aunt do as she will. I will marry as I choose and be happy!

  LOUISA HAD NEVER BEEN fond of travelling. Whilst she enjoyed the promise of being elsewhere, home being so familiar and dull to her when contrasted with the thrilling prospect of London or Bath, she rarely enjoyed the physical ordeal of travelling by coach.

  Today, though, she barely noticed any discomfort, so enraptured was she by the adventure she and Nash were embarking upon. She shoved aside any anxieties and scrunched her eyes closed, determined to seal every moment in her memory. This was her grand adventure, the tale she would tell over and over to her children, of how their mother had been brave and impetuous and in love.

  “Can you move over a little?”

  Louisa’s eyes flew open and she looked at Nash, surprised he had addressed her not in a warm, love-filled voice but one that was as matter-of-fact as if they were strangers. He gestured to the space on her side of the bench and she obliged, pressing herself tightly into one corner and allowing him a little more space to sit comfortably.

  “Much obliged.”

  She opened her mouth to say something else, caught between affection and a cynical retort, but before she could form a word he had turned abruptly away from her and engaged the older gentleman on his other side in a worldly discussion of business and the profit margins one was afforded in the silk trade.

  Louisa turned away, fixing her eyes on the countryside that rumbled past their window and tried not to cry. She swallowed past a painful lump in her throat before coming once more to her senses. Giving herself a shake, she rearranged her features into a smile, knowing that nobody could ever admire a young lady who pouted.

  This leg of our journey could never truly be called romantic, she reminded herself. We are on the stage with strangers! And Nash must keep up the pretence of our travelling together as if we have done it often. Too much affection or overbearing concern for my wellbeing would betray us immediately.

  She nodded to herself, her confidence growing in this explanation the longer she considered it. Yes, this was much the better way. Nash might make polite conversation with his neighbour and she, too, would seek to befriend hers. That was what travellers did, was it not? She cleared her throat, looking across the faces of the three folks sitting opposite them, and eventually settled on the youngest of the three, a pale, grey-featured young lady w
ho attended to some piecework, stitching quite miraculously quickly and neatly and succeeding in not only keeping her seams straight but never once pricking her nimble fingers. Louisa was quite taken with this display of genius, until the young lady glanced up, her gaze meeting Louisa’s with suspicion.

  “Oh!” Louisa squeaked, forcing a smile onto her face that she hoped would charm this stranger as easily as it had done numerous handsome young men. The young lady’s gaze hardened, and Louisa dropped the smile as quickly as she had assumed it, casting about for some word she might offer in its place.

  “I admire your - your bonnet. It is very...pretty...” she trailed off, lamely. This was a lie, for the bonnet was not only old, it was ugly, and surely originally designed for someone other than its current wearer. Nonetheless, the young lady reached up to pat it, as if she wore a literal crown, smiling condescendingly at Louisa but saying nothing, and returning with fervour to her stitching.

  Louisa sighed, looking back towards the window. Her first attempt to engage a fellow traveller in a conversation had not gone well, and Nash was ignoring her in favour of a lively discussion of overseas markets. She shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the elbow that had been wedged against the hard wooden door of their carriage.

  Perhaps this was not such a marvellous idea, she thought, feeling very sorry for herself and conjuring an image of her family at home in Aunt Brierley’s house. They would be sitting around the parlour talking or playing games. Juliet would be scribbling away at her infernal novel, or holding court as she spoke of her wedding plans and the purchases for her trousseau that she had been making...

  Louisa frowned, her resolve hardening.

  This is my chance for romance. I could not sit around at home and wait for it to find me. How likely would it be that a third eligible suitor should find his way to Aston House? She recalled, with something that might have been jealousy, how quickly and easily both Maddy and Bess had been singled out and chosen by newcomers to Castleford. She should not have wished to court attention from either Mr Hodge or Mr Cluett, although she supposed they made fine enough companions for her sisters.

  Still, their beaux could not possibly have loved them as much as Nash loves me. He has given up his inheritance, gone against the hopes of his family - for me! Her expression lifted as she felt warmth flood her body at the remembrance of their covert meeting at the assembly. He had told her then, in no uncertain terms, that he loved her, that he wanted to be with her, and that he was willing to cast everything else aside to allow that to happen.

  It is only right that I suffer a little too, she thought, ignoring the ache in her hip and pressing herself still more closely into the corner so that Nash might have more space with which to gesticulate in his animated conversation. She would endure the most uncomfortable carriage journey imaginable if it meant she might be Mrs Nash Weston.

  For this is what true love is! she marvelled. My story is the most romantic of them all, and I am living it, right now!

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Are you sure I cannot persuade you to join us for tea, Mrs Gale?”

  “No, no! I have taken up too much of your time already!” Edmund’s mother patted Juliet’s arm warmly as the two ladies parted company a little way from Aunt Brierley’s house. “I hope I shall see you again soon, though, my dear. Do call on us at home, won’t you? I don’t know why Edmund is so reluctant to have people...” An idea seemed to occur to her all at once and she called after Juliet. “In fact, we must host a dinner. I shall write to invite you!”

  Juliet smiled, waving and almost skipping the last few steps towards home. She could not believe that she had spent an enjoyable afternoon with Mrs Gale. So enjoyable that she was almost a little disappointed that she could not persuade the older lady to join them for refreshments. She smiled as she let herself into the house, humming as she removed her bonnet. How quickly things could change!

  There was a noticeable hum in the air as she made her way down the corridor towards the parlour, and Juliet could see servants hurrying this way and that, muttering between themselves and all eagerly averting their gaze from hers. It was on the tip of her tongue to enquire what was the matter when her aunt’s voice reached her ears.

  “What do you mean, gone? Please, dear, speak plainly. You have always possessed a habit of obfuscating the truth, it is most unbecoming -”

  “I have told you all I know,” Mrs Turner replied, her voice trembling with anxiety and annoyance. “If you do not credit my explanations, perhaps you had better go out in search of your brother, although I assure you he knows no more than I do!”

  Juliet opened the door to the parlour as her mother collapsed into a chair, fanning herself with agitation.

  “Is something the matter?”

  “Oh, Juliet! For a moment I thought you were Louisa and all this might have come to nothing.”

  Juliet cast a glance at her mother, whose face was pale and drawn, lines etched deep with worry. She could almost not believe the change wrought over her mother in the space of a few hours.

  “Mama? What has happened?” She crossed the parlour quickly and perched on the chair nearest her mother, reaching for her hand and bidding her meet her gaze.

  “Well you may ask -” Aunt Brierley began, growing ostentatious in her concern.

  “Louisa is missing.” Mrs Turner spoke simply, quietly, but directly to the point, undercutting Mrs Brierley’s great revelation and provoking her to sniff irritably and fold her arms, giving vent to her frustrations in tapping her foot.

  “Missing?” Juliet frowned. “But she cannot be missing, surely?” She looked at her aunt then back to her mother, seeing nothing but a confirmation of this as truth in the faces of both ladies.

  “I know she was not at home when I went out this afternoon, but I thought it likely she had found friends and gone out to socialise. Are you sure -”

  “She has no such group of friends that we can think of,” Mrs Turner said, biting her lip until it turned white. “None of the servants knew where she had gone, and she would have told us. She would have told someone, surely!”

  Juliet nodded, discerning the truth of the matter quicker than her mother and not daring to speak of it. If Louisa had escaped the house without notice, it was because she had chosen to. She was not given to quietly creeping around unless she was up to something.

  “I shall go and look for her,” she began, leaping to her feet. “Do not worry Mama, Auntie. I am sure I shall -”

  “Your father and uncle have gone already,” Mrs Turner said, trying to smile and not quite succeeding. “And your aunt and I were just debating where else we might send servants.”

  “You do not know where your foolish young sister might have run away to, do you?” Aunt Brierley asked. “Or with whom?”

  Juliet shook her head, trying to recall if she had noticed Louisa favour anybody in particular at the assembly. It had been the only social occasion both sisters had attended and was the only real chance Louisa had had to make new acquaintances or renew old ones...

  Juliet’s breath caught in her throat, and her mother whirled to look at her.

  “What do you know?” She grasped tight hold of Juliet’s fore-arm and dug her fingers in, scarcely aware of the pain she was causing. “Juliet, what are you thinking?”

  “I am mistaken, surely,” Juliet said, working her arm free and clenching and unclenching her hand into a fist. “It was a fleeting thought, an unlikely one at that, but...”

  “Speak, do, and let go of all these deadly qualifiers!” Aunt Brierley cried, throwing her hands up in despair. Ordinarily, Juliet might have taken her reaction personally, believing herself to bear the brunt of her aunt’s anger, but she could see, from the pinched and drawn expression on her aunt’s face that it was worry, not anger, that made her reactions so extreme.

  “The only person I can think of Louisa knowing well enough to meet - and whom she would not be eager to meet here, amongst the rest of us - is Mr Weston.” Her
eyes met her mother’s widening in concern. “But she would not...you do not think...”

  “I am inclined to believe Mr Weston capable of almost anything at all!” Mrs Turner got to her feet, hurrying over to a writing desk and scratching out a note. She summoned a servant and passed them the missive, instructing them to find Mr Turner or Colonel Brierley and deliver it, then return with an update on their progress.

  Her task accomplished, she sagged back, reaching out to steady herself against the wall. Juliet leapt up to support her mother but another lady was closer, and Mrs Brierley put a strong arm around her sister-in-law, rocking her as gently and tenderly as if she were a child.

  “Come, now, dear. Don’t let’s despair. You know how sensible your daughters are...for more than my own ever were. I have always thought you were a much better mother than I, and you shall reap the benefit of that now...”

  Juliet crept backwards, sinking into her seat and watching the two women come together in a way she had once thought impossible, and prayed that her aunt was right.

  BY THE TIME EDMUND extracted himself from the grasp of his friends - for Erasmus had not been the only familiar face begging to be reacquainted with the long-absent, much-missed Mr Gale - he was surprised to feel his spirits lifting. He had missed his friends more than he had realised, and would remember that in future.

  He whistled as he made his way slowly home, pleased with his use of the day, even if he had not succeeded in finding Nash and having the difficult conversation he knew he must. No matter, he would cheerfully leave that challenge for another day.

  He rounded a corner and came quite suddenly to a stop as he spotted two familiar gentlemen up ahead, stopping people as they passed with increasing urgency and asking each a question that was met with sympathetic shrugs and shaking heads.