"Had you not better go after that villain?" Deirdre interrupted his thoughts. "He spoke of a woman coming here soon, and he may well have other cohorts, for aught we know."
Reluctantly, Wrotham left her to look into the room where the highwayman had disappeared. It was empty, and a back door leading outside was standing open. He returned quickly to Deirdre's side.
"It appears that our host has abandoned us," he said as lightly as he could. "As I have no intention of leaving you here while I pursue him, I recommend that we leave this charming spot before he returns with reinforcements. Can you walk?"
She nodded. Wrotham helped Deirdre to her feet and slowly led her out to where his horse was tethered. The highwayman's beast was gone, and Wrotham gave silent thanks that the man had not stolen his own mount as well. Carefully, as though she were made of glass, he lifted Deirdre onto its back before mounting behind her. He kept one arm tightly about her waist as he set the horse into a walk back towards the Great North Road.
"How did you know to come after Jonas?" Deirdre asked presently, once the old inn had been left behind.
Wrotham cleared his throat uncomfortably before answering. "I... ah, I had word of his plan from my cousin, Myron Gates. It seems they were somehow in this together."
"Mr. Gates? I remember him from the Park. He and Jonas know each other?"
"So it would seem." Lord Wrotham reached up to loosen his neckcloth, which suddenly felt unaccountably tight. "Miss Wheaton, I fear I have a confession to make," he said.
"You called me Deirdre before, my lord," she reminded him. "You . . . you may continue to do so if you wish." Then, after a pause, "I have a confession of my own, you know, though it comes a bit late, I fear."
Wrotham nodded. "Ah, yes, your poetry. I wish you had told me, but I doubt not you had good cause to keep it to yourself. However, I fear that my crime is a shade more serious."
Deirdre looked up at him curiously, craning her neck to do so. "Crime, my lord?" she queried doubtfully.
"If you are to be Deirdre, you may call me by my Christian name as well," he said irrelevantly, delaying the inevitable. "It is Edison, Ed to my friends." Deliberately avoiding her eye, he bent more attention than was strictly necessary on the path ahead.
"Crime, perhaps, is too strong a word," he admitted when she continued to regard him in silence. "But not by far. Miss Wheaton... Deirdre... I discovered Mr. Flinder's plot to abduct you quite early today, and had ample time to prevent it. I did not do so, but chose to play the hero instead, coming after you once the abduction had occurred. So you see, it is completely my fault that you were subjected to this disagreeable experience." He said it tonelessly, refusing to coerce her forgiveness by so much as a look. He did not deserve it.
"Play the hero?" Deirdre echoed. The lightness of her tone startled Wrotham into looking at her. She was smiling. "Do you mean to say you did this to impress me?"
Wrotham swallowed convulsively, suddenly feeling foolish. "I... I suppose so," he admitted. "I deduced from your poetry that you shared the feminine penchant for romance and thought—"
"And thought, what could be more romantic than rescuing the fair maiden from her abductor?" Deirdre finished for him with a chuckle. "Somehow, I cannot find it in my heart to condemn you for that."
The horse came to an abrupt halt. "Then you will forgive me?" Lord Wrotham looked full into her eyes.
Deirdre felt her heart in her throat, beating more forcefully than it had during any of her recent alarming experiences. "How can I not?" she asked shakily. "What lady would not forgive her knight errant?"
Wrotham crushed her to him, heedless of the sidling horse beneath them. His lips sought hers and they met in a timeless kiss that swept away all need for explanations. At length, becoming aware again of their surroundings, they parted reluctantly.
"This is not precisely the setting I had in mind for this question, Deirdre, but will you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?"
Deirdre thought her heart would overflow with happiness. "Yes, Ed, I will."
Wrotham tightened his grasp and would have kissed her again, but at that moment the horse shied at some small animal in the underbrush and nearly pitched both of them to the ground. The embrace changed from loving to frantic until they had regained their balance.
Laughing, Wrotham said, "I suppose any further physical evidence of my affection will have to wait until we reach Town. Which reminds me," he added, pulling out his pocket-watch and scrutinizing it in the near darkness. "You have a ball to attend, do you not? And if I am not mistaken, I have been invited as well."
Deirdre's chuckle ended in a sudden gasp. "Oh! Mother and Celeste must be nigh frantic with worry by now! I had not even thought of it till now! You are right, my... Ed," she amended with a shy smile. "We must return at once."
"Hold tight, then," advised Wrotham, gripping her firmly with one hand while controlling the reins with the other. He kicked the horse into a brisk trot.
"I wonder what Mama is doing about my disappearance," Deirdre wondered aloud as they reached the highway and turned southward.
* * *
CHAPTER 18
Lady Penrose was at her wits' end. Mims had been putting the finishing touches to her costume when Celeste tapped on her door to ask where Deirdre was.
"I was going to ask Mrs. Jagels to dress her hair first, Mama, so that she could take her time with mine afterwards, but she is not in her chamber. Now that I think on it, I have not seen her all afternoon, though I rather thought she must be working on her poetry in private, as she often does."
The Baroness cast back in her mind, trying to recall the last time she herself had seen Deirdre. She snapped her fingers. "I remember!" she exclaimed. "Didi asked if she might go for a walk, while we were so put about with the decorating earlier. I said she might, so long as she took Marie; but that was nigh on two and a half hours ago!"
"Marie did not go with her, Mama, for she is this moment adding a third flounce to my gown. I suppose I may as well have Mrs. Jagels do my hair first, as Didi is not back to have hers dressed." Celeste turned to go, the question of Deirdre's whereabouts forgotten in the face of more important matters.
"But where can she be?" Lady Penrose called after her in some dismay. "If she truly went out unaccompanied, there is no knowing what might have happened."
"Oh, doubtless she went walking as she said, Mama, and lost track of time as she always does at home," responded Celeste unconcernedly. She clearly had no suspicion of the pitfalls London had to offer an unescorted young lady.
But Lady Penrose did. "I shall send Peters to search for her at once," she said decisively, ringing the bell.
An hour later there was still no sign of Deirdre, and the dinner guests were due to arrive at any moment. Peters had returned after fruitlessly combing the Park and the streets surrounding Mount Street. A query sent to Beata was answered in the negative: Mrs. Jameson had not seen Deirdre at all that day. Lady Penrose knew not what other course to pursue.
When Lord Ellerby arrived a moment later, ahead of the other guests, Celeste poured the story out to him, confident that he would have some idea which had not yet occurred to them. His only suggestion, however, was that they consult Lord Wrotham on the matter at once.
"He's the very man to deal with a crisis of this sort, if you ask me," he said to his fiancée and her anxious mother. "Besides, he has more than a passing interest in the matter, I should say."
"But he is out of Town, is he not?" asked Lady Penrose in surprise. After days with no word from the Marquis, she had come regretfully to share Celeste's view that his interests had turned elsewhere. Charles's last remark, however, caused her flagging hopes to rise again.
"No, he returned last night. I dined with him this afternoon, as a matter of fact," replied Charles.
"And... you think he has a particular interest in Deirdre?" prodded Lady Penrose.
"Hasn't that been obvious?" It was Ellerby's turn to look surprised. "Why
, today he implied that the matter would be settled by tonight. I assumed by that he means to make his offer at the ball, though why he waited so long I can't fathom."
The conversation broke off at that point, as the other dinner guests began to arrive. Lady Penrose's spirits, which had risen considerably at Lord Ellerby's disclosures, fell again when Lord Wrotham, who had also been invited to dinner, failed to appear. She had quite begun to count on him for help in locating her missing daughter.
The Heathertons were among those select twenty or so who made up the table, along with the Thumbles and Jamesons, of course. Julia Heatherton looked round eagerly for Deirdre, claiming to have a new bit of gossip she wished to impart, but she was not in the drawing-room, where the party was assembled.
When she could delay no longer, Lady Penrose led them into the dining room on the arm of Lord Ellerby. At this point, Miss Heatherton could not restrain her curiosity.
"But where is Didi, Lady Penrose?" she asked in her high, carrying voice. "She is not ill, I hope? And I was certain she told me that Lord Wrotham was to be present tonight, as well!" Her rather long nose twitched, as if scenting a scandal.
The Baroness looked regally around the table as all eyes turned towards her for her answer. "Oh, did I not tell you? The announcement was to be made during the ball, in any case. Deirdre and Lord Wrotham are betrothed, and he has taken her to meet his great-aunt. I hope they shall return by suppertime, but the great-aunt is an eccentric creature and may well insist that they stay the night." She maintained a serene expression, giving no hint of the fact that she had invented the entire story, not to mention Lord Wrotham's great-aunt, even as she spoke.
Celeste turned a startled face towards her mother and no doubt would have spoken had Charles not touched her arm and gently shaken his head. "It will do vastly more harm than good to contradict her, you know," he cautioned her in a whisper. The excited murmur which had broken out at the Baroness's words ensured that no one else overheard.
"Oh, but..." Her thoughts finally catching up with her mouth, Celeste subsided.
Beata and Althea were among the most amazed at this unexpected intelligence. Beata regarded her mother suspiciously, as though fearing that all was not quite as it seemed, but she was wise enough to hold her tongue for the present. Althea was less restrained.
"But why did you not tell us last night, Mama?" she demanded. "And why was Lord Wrotham not there at the rout with Didi?"
Lady Penrose regarded her eldest daughter with less than her usual fondness. "It was not settled till this morning," she lied calmly. "And Lord Wrotham had another engagement last night. But," she said brightly, changing the subject, "I apprehend that one or two of you are not aware of the other betrothal in our family. My dear Celeste is promised to Lord Ellerby here. That also is to be announced tonight."
This successfully turned the conversation, much to Lady Penrose's relief. She had never been especially creative, and feared that her story would quickly crumble were it too diligently questioned.
As the dinner party broke up to proceed to the ballroom, Beata took the opportunity to draw her mother to one side. "Mama, what fustian is this?" she demanded in a fierce whisper. "I know very well that Deirdre was missing late this afternoon, for Peters came by to see if I knew where she might be. Do I take it that she has not yet returned?"
Lady Penrose very nearly broke down at this, but drew on her years of breeding to contain her emotions. "No, Beata," she confessed quietly, "she has not. I am at my wits' end wondering what can have happened to her."
"I was afraid of that. Mama, I had no chance to tell you before dinner, but just as I was leaving my house one of my footmen told me that Deirdre had been seen this afternoon climbing into a coach with Mr. Flinder."
For a moment, Lady Penrose looked as though she might swoon. "Dear God! You do not think she has eloped with him? What will Lord Wrotham say?"
Beata shook her head. "I cannot think she went with him willingly!"
Lady Penrose said miserably, "It makes little matter. Her reputation must be ruined by now! Any marriage forced upon her can be set aside, of course, but Wrotham will scarcely want aught to do with her now." She took a deep breath, suddenly recalling that she was hostess at a ball. Her innate optimism reasserted itself. "Not a word of this to anyone!" she cautioned Beata. "All may come right in the end; one never knows."
Beata clearly thought that unlikely in the extreme, but promised to stay mum.
As the ball progressed, Lady Penrose clung to her smile as she glibly answered any questions put to her about Deirdre's absence and her supposed engagement to the much-sought-after Marquis of Wrotham. Miss Heatherton, in particular, seemed inclined to doubt the story, making the baroness wonder uncomfortably whether the girl had heard something. If anyone could be depended upon to spread a scandal, it was Julia Heatherton.
Upon reflection, Lady Penrose realized that she would have done much better to have told everyone that Deirdre was ill, or even dead, rather than to drag Lord Wrotham's name into something which might well become unsavoury. She was considering whether there were any way that she could reasonably retract her story when Peters, at her elbow, informed her that her presence was urgently required in the kitchen.
"In the kitchen?" she repeated in disbelief. This footman generally knew his business, but now it appeared that he needed some correction. "Can you not see that there is a ball taking place, of which I am the hostess? Surely the cook can handle a shortage of lobster patties, or whatever the difficulty is, on her own!"
"Please, my lady," repeated Peters, his face now betraying suppressed excitement. "It... it concerns Miss Deirdre."
All manner of visions instantly arose before the Baroness's eyes, foremost among them an apparition of her daughter's senseless body lying prostrate in the scullery. She came at once.
As Peters led her through the busy kitchen to the small pantry behind it, her anxiety increased. The change in her expression was comical when she suddenly beheld Deirdre, apparently in perfect health but with clothes badly stained and torn, arm in arm with the Marquis of Wrotham, who was in similar state. Both were smiling.
"But... Beata said you had gone off with Mr. Flinder!" she blurted out before considering her words, so astounded was she.
Lord Wrotham's smile faded slightly. "Beata?" he asked sharply.
"My sister, Mrs. Jameson," Deirdre supplied. "We can depend upon her discretion, Ed, have no fear."
Lady Penrose nodded numbly in agreement, much distracted by hearing the Marquis called "Ed" by her daughter. They appeared to have reached some sort of understanding.
"Yes, Mother, Mr. Flinder indeed carried me off, intending to take me to Gretna Green," said Deirdre, turning her attention back to the bewildered Lady Penrose. "Lord Wrotham was obliging enough to rescue me." The look she turned upon the Marquis spoke volumes.
"You... you did not call him out, my lord?" the Baroness asked Lord Wrotham tentatively, yet another scandal rearing its ugly head in her imagination.
"No, I felt he had suffered enough already," was the enigmatic reply. "It is rather a long story, my lady, which would be better told at another time. Suffice it to say that your daughter is perfectly safe."
"Thank you, my lord," said Lady Penrose warmly. Then she remembered something else. "I... I fear in my anxiety to explain Deirdre's absence I have taken a liberty, my lord," she confessed abruptly, turning rather pink. "I have put it about that the two of you are betrothed, and that you have taken her to visit your great-aunt. Of course, you may deny it at once; I am simply glad to have my daughter home safely." She regarded him anxiously, trying to gauge his reaction.
"I think a denial will not be necessary," said Wrotham, smiling down at Deirdre. "As it happens, your daughter has already consented to become my wife. I have no great-aunt, but if I did, I have no doubt she would be pleased."
"Everything is perfectly all right, then!" exclaimed Lady Penrose, her face suddenly wreathed in smiles. "I shall wri
te to your father first thing tomorrow, Didi!" she went on. "Surely, just this once, he will not mind if the announcement is made before his formal approval of the match."
"We would not wish to disregard the proprieties on such an important matter," said Wrotham seriously, earning a concerned look from Lady Penrose and a startled one from Deirdre. "I wouldn't dream of taking Lord Penrose's approval for granted." His eyes began to twinkle. "Therefore, it is just as well that I have already obtained his consent myself."
Simultaneously, Lady Penrose and Deirdre exclaimed, "What?"
Looking somewhat sheepish, he admitted, "Yes, that is the business which took me from Town. I wished to be very sure of you, Deirdre," he told his future marchioness with a look that checked the indignant retort on her lips.
What could she say? Deirdre was so happy at that moment that it was impossible to be the least bit angry at his high-handedness.
Lady Penrose, however, abruptly returned to the present. "Gracious!" she cried. "I had near forgotten the ball! If we are to make the formal announcement tonight, you had best run upstairs and change, miss!" she admonished her daughter. "You may use the back stairs. And you, my lord, are scarce fit for a ballroom yourself." Now that the shock was past, Lady Penrose was becoming her usual, managing self again.
Lord Wrotham looked down at his attire ruefully. "Quite true, my lady," he agreed. "I shall hurry home to change and return as soon as possible." He looked at Deirdre to find her still regarding him dreamily.
"Are you with us, my dear?" he asked gently, in sudden concern that she might not yet have completely recovered from the various shocks of the day.
Deirdre started, blinking up at him. "I have only just recalled the poem I composed while riding upside-down with that highwayman," she explained. "The ending will make it quite an epic, I vow. I must write it down immediately!"
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