Chapter 6
Drusilla discovered that escaping her Aunt Violet—whose health had rallied at the prospect of a wedding, no matter how rushed—her prospective mother-in-law, and Eva was more difficult than escaping Coldbath Fields Prison.
But it was imperative that she get away. The twice-monthly meetings of her charitable group—the Society for the Practical Application of Wollstonecraftian Ideals—were often the highlights of her week, and she hated to miss one. Besides, she needed to tell her small group that she would be the first of their number to violate their own principles and enter the married state. And then she would need to tell them that she’d be leaving town after the Season, something she’d not done since settling into the London house after finishing school.
Drusilla squirmed to think of her friends’ reactions. She’d formed this group almost three years ago, its membership comprising only seven people including her—four women and three men, all of them except one from the merchant class. The last member to join—barely half a year ago—had been a young man from the aristocracy, although only the youngest son of a baronet. Still, it gave them all hope that if one man from the ruling class could see the merit in Wollstonecraft’s writings, there would be others.
As Drusilla hurried along the damp sidewalk, her maid struggling to keep pace, she reminded herself, yet again, that she would be married tomorrow—that she would be Mrs. Gabriel Marlington. She had reminded herself of that fact at least once every five minutes since his proposal, and it still had not stuck.
And then she had needed to remind herself that the morning after her marriage, she might very well be a widow.
Drusilla groaned at the ridiculousness of it all.
“Miss Dru?” Fletcher asked breathlessly, trotting along beside her. “Did you say something?”
“I will want you to wait for me in Hatchards, just as usual.”
Her maid’s silence was most speaking.
“It will only be an hour, Fletcher. There will be plenty of time to get back to the w-wedding preparations.” Even speaking the word was difficult—what would being married to him be like? What would the wedding night be like . . .? She slammed the door shut against that thought: it would come soon enough.
“But Miss Dru, it is only tomorrow and—”
“Fletcher.”
The older woman heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Very well, miss.”
Good. So that was done.
Drusilla dreaded the discussion she was to have with her small group—especially Theo. Although it had never been spoken of openly, it was understood their membership would live up to the beliefs set out in Miss Wollstonecraft’s writings and they would eschew marriage. And now she was the first of their number to break that vow. She was, in other words, a hypocrite. No matter how often she told herself she was being forced to marry, her heart sang at the notion of becoming Gabriel Marlington’s wife.
You are getting exactly what you have yearned for, a smug little voice inside her said, bringing with it a vivid image of the man she would be marrying.
She was abandoning her principles with hardly a backward glance.
Drusilla flushed at the undeniable truth as Gabriel Marlington’s fierce features and powerful, muscular body flashed through her mind, the image making her female parts behave in a most distracting manner. It would hardly do to become so bothered—so physically stimulated—at even thinking the man’s name. Not that the sensation was anything new. She’d been a quivering lump of fool for him since she’d first laid eyes on him. She recalled the day with crystal clarity.
She’d been visiting Exley Castle for the first time. Her aunt had been over the moon that she’d been invited to the country home of a marquess. Gabriel had been down from college with his idiot friend, Lord Byer, the oldest student in the history of Oxford. Or so Drusilla had heard.
Eva and Drusilla had been out riding—her friend was a far better equestrienne than Drusilla would ever be—when they’d come upon two horses, bridleless and cropping grass.
“That is my brother’s horse—the other is Byer’s.” Eva had sprung from the saddle before Drusilla could even comment. “And look—” She held up what was indisputably a pair of breeches and grinned. “Let’s take their clothing.”
“What?” Drusilla had shrieked.
“They’re swimming, although it looks like only one pair of breeches are here. I’ll sneak down to the pond and grab the other pair. If we take their clothing, they’ll have to walk home naked. Or . . .” She chuckled evilly. “Would they ride home in the—”
“Yes, yes,” Drusilla had said, not wishing to hear any more about her friend’s brother in an unclothed state.
But Eva had already disappeared through a gap in the trees.
“Eva? Eva?” There was no response. Drusilla had walked her mount back and forth, unwilling to dismount because there were no nearby rocks or fallen logs to serve that purpose. That was all she needed, to be caught without her horse when—
“Eva!”
An answering laugh came through the trees a second before Eva burst through the foliage and tossed an armload of clothing at Drusilla, startling both her and her horse.
“Run, Dru! Run! They’re right behind me.” She’d already caught up her horse’s reins and was trotting toward the trail as quickly as the heavy skirt of her habit would allow.
Drusilla’s mount had pranced nervously, refusing to obey her clumsy urging. “Eva, come back!”
And then he came through the foliage. And stopped, facing her.
Drusilla had been able to do nothing but stare. His body had been wet, drops of water glinting in the light like tiny crystals, his torso and arm rippling as he reached up with one hand to push his overlong hair from his forehead. Drusilla’s eyes had behaved as if they’d had minds of their own, and she’d become fixated on his hips, on the tangle of dark auburn curls, on the—
“Miss Dru?”
“Hmm?” Drusilla looked around, suddenly aware she’d come to a stop.
Fletcher was looking at her, her brow wrinkled. “Do you want to cross now?”
They were paused on the street corner, an urchin lingering hopefully, a scraggly straw broom clutched in one hand.
Drusilla nodded, and Fletcher took a coin from her reticule and gave it to the boy when they reached the far side.
“Is aught amiss, Miss Dru? You look quite flushed.”
“No, no, nothing is wrong. Just a lack of sleep, I expect.”
“Hmmph. You’d be better off getting in a few hours’ rest before tonight than gallivanting around.” They were to have a family dinner at Exley House. Lord Exley’s other two daughters were too far from London to return in time for the wedding, but there were still scads of cousins, uncles, aunts, and—of course—his grandfather, the duke. On her side there would be only Drusilla and her Aunt Vi, provided her aunt didn’t wear herself to a frazzle before tomorrow morning with the whirlwind of wedding preparations.
It would, no doubt, be a tension-filled evening. Still, though Drusilla had never met the others who would be there tonight, she liked Lady Exley very much and loved Eva, who was her dearest friend. But Lord Exley? She shivered. No, he was not a comfortable man. And a duke? She shivered again. And the sisters of a duke? More shivering.
And Gabriel? Well, he gave her shivers of a completely different sort. He was far too good-looking for any woman’s peace of mind, and he’d made his opinion of Drusilla plain years ago. To him she was nothing more than a dowdy nuisance to be tolerated because of her connection to his sister. If disaster hadn’t befallen them, he doubtless would have been betrothed to Miss Kittridge at the end of the Season. Two perfect people together, as it should be.They would certainly have had the most gorgeous children . . .
“Miss Clare?”
Drusilla looked up to find Theo Rowland standing only a few feet away. She knew his lodgings were in one of the many bachelor dwellings that were not far from Piccadilly.
“Good aft
ernoon, Mr. Rowland.” Drusilla’s lips curved into a genuine, welcoming smile.
“What a delightful surprise it is to find you here.”
Drusilla cocked her head. “A surprise? But today is Thursday.”
“Yes, but—well, I wasn’t certain you were still coming.” Theo gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.
“Why?”
A red stain spread across his pale cheeks. “Well, because of last night.”
Drusilla’s mouth dropped open in what she was sure must be a singularly unattractive expression. “You heard?”
He grimaced. “I’m afraid all of London has heard by now.”
She didn’t know what to say—why hadn’t she guessed as much? He was, after all, related to a baronet even if he did not mix in ton company. And there were always the papers. Just because she didn’t read the scandal sheets didn’t mean others didn’t. She glanced around, looking for the rest of the group. “Are we the first to arrive? Are we early?”
“Er, about that . . . I’m afraid you might be angry with me.”
“Whatever for?”
“When I heard what happened last night, I took the liberty of sending word to the other members and told them you probably would not come today.”
“Oh.” Drusilla tried to hide her disappointment and irritation. He had taken a liberty, but there was nothing to be gained by pointing that out. Instead she said, “I was so looking forward to seeing everyone.” She realized how rude that sounded and smiled at Theo. “Not that I’m not very happy to see you, Theo.”
“I apologize if I overstepped.”
“No, of course not—how could you? It is our group, not just mine.”
“I only did it for your own comfort.” He was sounding a little sulky.
“Yes, of course, Theo. It will be fine.”
“And it is only for a week—you will see them all at the next meeting.” He hesitated and then asked, “Unless—surely you’re not leaving London because of this?”
Drusilla realized they were still standing on the sidewalk. She turned to Fletcher, whose disapproval rolled off her in almost visible waves. “Come back for me in half an hour, Fletcher.”
Her maid did not move. “But—” Her eyes slid to Theo, the message clear: there was no meeting; why was she staying?
“Half an hour,” Drusilla repeated.
She waited until Fletcher stomped away before turning to Theo and shaking her head. “You know how protective she is.”
“And with good reason,” Theo said, opening the door to the quaint tea shop where they usually met with the other members. The group focused on helping powerless people who could not help themselves. To that end, they’d endowed four women’s homes in London and an orphanage in Brighton, among other things.
From the very first, Drusilla had felt a kinship with Theo. He was a man whose dedication to the plight of women—especially poor women—was as fervid as her own. The fact that a man from the aristocracy could care for something other than drinking, gaming, and horses had been a revelation. In the half year he’d belonged to the group, he had facilitated the establishment of three new women’s homes, all in other large English cities. It had been Drusilla’s hope to visit these new endeavors this fall, which was when Theo said they would be operating and ready for inspection. And now what would happen to all their fine plans?
Oh, Gabriel had said she could go on the same as ever, but she suspected he would draw the line at her traveling the country to inspect poor houses—especially in another man’s company.
“Hello, Miss Clare, Mr. Rowland. I’ve held your regular table.”
Drusilla smiled at the woman who hurried out from behind the pastry counter and led them to the table in front of the bow window where they usually sat. It was just past one o’clock and the small tea shop was bustling.
“I’m afraid it will only be we two, today, Mrs. Tilly.”
“It is a pleasure to have you,” the older woman said. Drusilla would order some sweets to be delivered to make up for the shortfall they created by taking the best table for only two people. It was unfortunate it was in front of the bow window, but it was not as if she were doing anything wrong by meeting an acquaintance—even a male acquaintance.
They ordered tea and pastries and chatted about the weather until the tea had arrived and been poured, and biscuits distributed.
Theo, ever sensitive to her moods, laid a hand over hers. “It was my brother who told me what happened at the Abingdon ball; he was there.”
“Ah,” Drusilla said. Theo was so different from most other aristocratic men she’d met that she always forgot about his connections.
Theo scowled. “Visel is a cad and has always been an embarrassment to our family.”
“Your family?”
Theo’s cheeks reddened slightly. “He is my cousin—on my mother’s side.”
“Oh. I had no idea.” How uncomfortable. She looked at her friend and wondered what he’d heard. “What—”
He squeezed her hand. “Don’t let what he said concern you. You are my dearest friend, Drusilla, and far more important to me than my idiot cousin, whom I’ve not spoken to in years. He’s been away on the Continent for a good part of that time, and since his return he’s been something of a—well, never mind. You should relax and have some tea. You are as wound up as a top.” He made a tsking sound. “I can’t say I’m terribly surprised after what I heard—”
The last thing Drusilla wanted was to hear just how the brief encounter had swelled into something shocking or more grotesque.
“I am to be married,” she blurted.
“What?” His hand clenched hard enough to make her bones hurt.
She sucked in a breath, and he glanced down, loosening his grip. “Lord, what a brute you must think me.”
“Of course, I don’t. You are merely shocked, and, I daresay, more than a little disappointed that I am to abandon our principles and enter a marriage after resisting for so long.”
“I can’t believe the duke would allow it,” he muttered.
Drusilla’s face heated at his response; she wouldn’t have expected snobbery from a man she considered a friend. “His grandfather can hardly expect to dictate whom he marries,” she snapped.
The strange expression on his face flickered and his eyes seemed to come back into focus. “Oh, Dru! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just meant the duke is known to be terribly high in the instep.”
Drusilla frowned, only slightly mollified by his comment.
“Tell me what happened.”
“You know what happened.” She felt her face heat, which only angered her. Why should she blush? She had nothing to be ashamed about. “Surely you can see that I have no choice now but to marry? It is either that or live my life on the fringes of society.” She shrugged. “While I don’t care if I’m never invited to another ball or rout, I hardly wish to become an outcast.”
“No, of course not,” he echoed, his voice faint, his eyes rather wild as they flickered around the room restlessly.
Drusilla felt a sudden surge of affection for him. “You are taking this almost as hard as I am,” she said.
He gave a rather high-pitched laugh. “Oh, I’m sure everyone in the group will be equally concerned on your behalf, Drusilla.”
“How fortunate I am to have such loyal and caring friends.” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you, my friend.” He gave her a look of confusion. “For understanding just how difficult this is for me—how this goes against all our principles.”
His smile was tight and he looked nothing like his usual self. “Of course, yes, of course. I’m sure you are feeling this violation of your principles most horribly.”
Well, that seemed rather a strong way to put it, but Drusilla decided not to correct him. “While it is not what I’d planned for myself, marriage is the only way, Theo.”
“Yes, marriage.” He pushed the fingers of one hand through his hair and shoved ba
ck a few somewhat lank brown curls that had fallen over his forehead. He shook himself and looked up at her. “But, Lord! What a cad I am being. Never mind all that, how are you faring after this heinous ordeal?”
Drusilla was tempted to ask just what he’d heard but decided against it. “Oh, the incident itself was not so horrific, Theo. I am made of sterner stuff. I refuse to allow a—” A shadow passed in front of the bow window and stopped. Small hairs on the back of her neck—which she’d never really noticed before—stood on end.
Theo turned toward the window as the shadow persisted. “I say, what’s this nosy bloke all about?”
Drusilla knew before she looked who it would be.
* * *
Gabriel felt like rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, or perhaps closing them and then opening them again, hoping the bizarre vision would be gone.
He leaned closer to the window and stared. No, it was not a hallucination; it was real—she was still there. It really was his betrothed holding another man’s hand. And that man was glaring at Gabriel as if he were some sort of street rubbish.
Gabriel looked at Drusilla and met her haughty stare. She was looking at him as if he were street rubbish, as well.
He pivoted on his heel, strode to the shop door, and almost tore it off the hinges. The clatter of bells filled the little room with shrill, almost hysterical ringing. He felt, rather than saw, dozens of eyes upon him as he closed the short distance between the door and his fiancée.
The man had released her hand but was now standing, half hovering in front of Drusilla as if to protect her. From him, Gabriel could only assume.
“Miss Clare. What a surprise. I would have assumed you were busy today.” His mouth twisted into a mocking smile and his gaze settled on her hand, gloveless and limp and now alone on the table. “But I suppose you are busy, just not with wedding preparations.”
Her companion took a step toward him. “And just who—”
Notorious Page 7
