The Runaway Chaperone: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Alice Kirks

  They were facing almost a hundred people, and she was on the top step. She was rooted in place and he gently lifted a hand, ready to take her arm. She was clearly terrified. He couldn’t blame her.

  The first time he attended this place, he was also frightened.

  He looked over the sea of faces. Everyone was staring and he was sure they were commenting. The fact that he hardly ever attended Seasons would be mentioned, and he was sure his sister’s clothing, and her beautifulness, were being attested. He glanced at her and felt very proud.

  As they waited, the heads turned away. They had held discussions for perhaps three seconds, assessing the newcomers and planning what they would do when introduced. Then, as was customary, the world-weary Londoners turned. They never were interested in anyone for longer than about three seconds.

  No matter how scandalous one might be, London won’t talk about the same people forever.

  He wished he could tell Arabella.

  She was walking again, and he fell into step. He followed her down the stairs, and she turned to him as she reached the bottom.

  “Can we go that way?” she asked, pointing in the direction of the refreshments-table. “There are chairs there, and something to drink.”

  Matthew had to smile. His sister was unfailingly confident. She had clearly decided, from the height of the stairs, where she wanted to go, and he had to admire that. He nodded.

  “Yes, we’ll go there. I’ll help you through the crowd if you like. Alexandra?” he added, over his shoulder.

  Alexandra nodded and walked a little behind them. Matthew frowned. She had been silent in the coach, and he had noticed how she had become more tense as they got closer. Now, she was expressionless, her face stiff and frightened.

  It must be the crowds, he thought. Or maybe the fact that she felt intimidated by everybody.

  He looked around. He knew many of the people here, at least in passing. Earls, barons and viscounts, most of them were titled. And those who weren’t, were wealthy industrialists, seeking the company of those who had the one thing they lacked – a title.

  He reached out a hand to Alexandra, hoping to give her fingers a squeeze. She was too far behind them, he noticed. He felt upset.

  She should not trail behind us. This society is foolish.

  He had never seen, in all its stark foolishness, the way their society functioned. Here were people with nobility and wealth, and many of them he wouldn’t want to talk to, since they were smooth, cruel and untrustworthy. He sometimes had the feeling that turning his back on them was simply presenting them with a target. Yet, behind him, head bowed, looking nervously from side to side, walked a woman who was radiant with inner beauty. He wanted to scream, to expose to all of them how foolish their rigid society was.

  But what can I do? If I did tell them, I’d be disgraced.

  With the good opinion of these people gone, he would never make a good business deal, never get invited to a party. And his sister would be ruined.

  He swallowed hard. He had to accept the ills of these people. He owed it to Arabella, who was so excited to be taking part in this world now.

  “Your Grace?” somebody greeted him. He turned to find Lord Leighton. He bowed low.

  “My Lord. I am delighted to see you here.”

  Lord Leighton was one of the few members of high society he actually liked. Or, at least, he didn’t find unbearable. More like his father in age, Lord Leighton had supported him from his first moment as Duke. He was pleased to see him.

  “Now, your Grace,” the old Earl said. “I hear that you have been investing with Albert in this new India trade.”

  “Yes, I have,” Matthew nodded. He felt a little awkward – after all, he wasn’t here for himself, but because of Arabella. It was just as much his job as Alexandra’s to chaperone her, and he didn’t fancy the idea of being stuck here while something happened to Arabella.

  “Capital! Have you heard the news from Lord Curdon, who’s also looking to India?”

  They discussed the trade in some detail, and Matthew found his stomach twisting as they talked on and on. Where was Arabella? He couldn’t see her.

  “My Lord?” he said as they seemed about to engage in discussing the details of a new trade-route. “If you please, I must excuse myself. I am here with my sister, and I wish to keep an eye on her.”

  “Of course, of course,” the older man said, fondly. “Give my regards to Arabella. A lovely girl. Lovely!”

  “Thank you, my Lord,” Matthew nodded respectfully.

  He rushed away.

  He found Arabella by the refreshments-table. She was standing with a young lady, whom he thought he recognized. He realized it was Jessica, a friend and distant cousin. He relaxed. She seemed happy and quite safe and he was starting to wonder why he had been worried.

  A young man was coming over to talk to Arabella, and Matthew felt his worry start. He was right here, and he could certainly help. But it would be awkward. And where was Alexandra? She should be here.

  He found himself feeling annoyed with her, his concern for Arabella – who was fairly surrounded by young men by now – fueling his anger. She really ought to be here! She should know better.

  Chapter 27

  Alexandra drew back against the wall of the hallway. She held her breath, trying not to move, to hide in the shadow by a curtain. It was dark here, the light from the ballroom distant and dispersed. She leaned on the wall and tried not to breathe.

  “I know it’s you.”

  She tensed. He had followed her!

  Viscount Nailsworth. He had seen her in the ballroom. It was a fleeting glance, that was all – the barest gaze. But he had recognized her. She’d turned away, hastily stepping around guests and between groups and running towards the door. But when she turned around at the doorway, she had seen that he was still there, striding determinedly.

  He was coming after her.

  Now, she tried to keep still. He was in the entranceway, which stood exactly between the hallway where she cowered and the ballroom. If she moved, he would catch sight of the motion and seek for her.

  “I know it’s you,” he murmured. “You have disgraced me.”

  Alexandra held her breath. He was clearly furious with her. She didn’t want to think about what he would do if he spotted her. His pride was everything: and she had dented his pride, doing as she had.

  “Where are you?”

  Alexandra stepped back. He was not looking down the hallway, but into the ballroom. She risked another two steps backwards, and another two. If she could get down the hallway, she could lose herself in the servants’ corridor-system.

  “I will find you.”

  “My Lord?” she heard someone say. It was one of the footmen! With any luck, Viscount Nailsworth would not want to risk looking like a fool. While he was talking to the footman, she took another two steps back. And another two…

  She heard voices as the footman replied.

  “I saw a young lady come into the hallway, yes, my Lord. But she went into the servants’ corridor. She works here, it appears.”

  Alexandra felt a flare of joy. She was lucky! The footman had simply assumed she was a maidservant. She could escape and hide. She took another two steps back, and then reached the door that led – she assumed – into the corridor the servants used to go from the kitchen to the ballroom.

  “Whew.”

  She shut the door behind her. She was in a dark space, and her heart thumped as she leaned on the wall. She was safe.

  How could she explain this to the Duke?

  She felt her mind push aside the question immediately. She couldn’t bother about that right now. She had more pressing problems – like how she was going to get out of here. And how she was going to avoid Lord Nailsworth spotting her again.

  She took a breath and tried to think of a plan.

  The servants’ corridor must go down to the kitchens. The kitchen, she knew, must lead out onto the street. How else did
they receive delivery of coal and other goods? She knew how to get out!

  “I need to find the kitchens.”

  Taking a deep breath, she turned left and started walking. The torches guttered on the walls, and the stair made a creak as she stepped. She walked.

  Somewhere, there is a kitchen.

  “Hey! Mind out the way, there,” a woman called, and Alexandra let out a relieved breath. She was carrying a tray of party-fare, and she must have just come up from the kitchens. The savory smell of whatever she was carrying trailed behind her as she went up to the doors.

  Alexandra, feeling a new surge of hope, hurried down in the direction of the smells.

  “Hey!” a woman shouted as she walked in. “Shut the door behind ye! You’re letting the air into the fireplace.”

  “Sorry,” Alexandra said, deciding the best thing she could do was pretend she did, in fact, work here. Her dress would serve as some sort of uniform, and it was quite likely the cook would never have seen her.

  “Sorry, you might be. But you’ll be the one who’ll relight it when it goes out, I tell you,” the woman said, but she said it half-heartedly. Alexandra ignored it and reached for a tray, looking over at the cook.

  “Is this to go up?” she asked.

  “Yes, it is. Mind you don’t fall. I’ll not have those dropped on my nice, clean floor. Not when they took an hour to cook this afternoon.”

  “Of course. Thank you,” Alexandra said, and lifted the tray. She realized it was not the response the cook was expecting, but it was too late to worry about the skeptical look she received as she lifted the tray. She had to get out of here. How was she going to get into the garden?

  Her heart thumped. She looked around. There had to be a door somewhere! Counting the seconds, taking deep breaths, she walked up the steps, then waited until the cook was looking down again. She could see the door – it was on the cook’s right. The bolt was drawn back, and Alexandra was sure it was open. All she’d have to do was run at it and give a hard shove, and…

  “Hey!” the cook shouted, as Alexandra ran down the stairs. She had left the tray behind, and she threw her full force at the door. She grabbed the handle, pushed, and the door opened.

  She was in the garden.

  She looked around. The cook was behind her, and she had to run fast, before she was caught. The cook would be merciless, she was sure. She spotted a path.

  “Help!” she shouted as she ran, hoping that any members of the new city guard would hear her. Perhaps even the cook would be reluctant to argue with her if she came up with some convincing story.

  The air was cold, but she didn’t have time to notice how the heat was drained from her skin, or to think of anything besides the desperate need to run.

  “Help!” she shouted again and burst out of the path into – as she had expected – the street. She looked around. The cook was still pursuing her. Now, though, with the press of people, it was going to be difficult for her.

  Alexandra darted past two men who were walking along slowly, around a group who were coming out of a hall and then past a coach. She was still running, ducking and weaving her way through the crowd, when she realized something. She’d lost her.

  The cook was back at the Assembly.

  Alexandra stood still. She was exhausted, frightened and – she noticed now – cold. She was also alone in a dangerous street in London. As it happened, though, at this time of night the street was crowded. It would be difficult for anyone to pursue her here.

  All the same, she thought, looking at a group of dangerous-looking individuals coming down the street – six men, carrying sticks –she had to get inside.

  “Miss? Miss!” a man shouted, as she bolted from the shadows and ran, back the way she’d came. She didn’t turn.

  Whatever he wants, it’s probably not for my own benefit.

  She ran back along the way she’d came, still ducking between people, trying to keep a lookout. Her hair had tumbled down, and she was sure she looked a mess. The hem of her dress was torn, and she didn’t know how she was going to sneak back into the hall or contact Arabella.

  I need to go to the coach.

  With any luck, the coach was still parked somewhere, waiting for them. She hadn’t asked if the Duke had sent them home, with orders to return when the party finished. She hoped not. If the coach were there, she could hide in it and ask the coachman to take a message indoors. It was all she could think of doing.

  She ducked out from the shadow of a flight of stairs and headed on down the street. She knew the way back to the Assembly from here. It was on the left, at the end of this street. She just had to find the coach. It was emblazoned with the Duke’s seal on the door. She was sure she’d recognize it if she saw it. The seal had three bars and curly leaves around the center. She would know it if she laid eyes on it.

  She knew the coachman, too. He was one of the few staff at the estate who actually liked her. He would definitely help her if she could just find him…

  She was walking through the parked carriages, weaving her way around cold, disgruntled horses and past boys who offered to help her find the coach, when she spotted someone she knew.

  “Good evening?” she shouted up to the friendly-looking coachman, who stared.

  “Miss! What brought you here? You’ll catch your death, without your cloak! Go and get it.”

  Alexandra wanted to smile, but it was too unsafe to take any more time than was necessary.

  “Please,” she said. “I need to get into the coach. Could I ask you to help me?”

  “Of course.” The man’s playful manner evaporated, replaced by a worried stare. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “Nothing harmed me, but please…I need to take a message to Lady Arabella. Or the Duke. Maybe just him. Tell them where I am?”

  “Of course,” the coachman nodded. “Get inside, Miss. You really are too cold out here.”

  “Yes,” Alexandra nodded, shivering. “I am.”

  She swung into the coach and shut the door. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly too cold to think. She sat there, shivering.

  He recognized me.

  She tried not to recall the horrible sensation as the viscount looked at her. She had hoped never to see that cruel, mocking face again.

  “I think I’m going to be ill.”

  She felt her stomach heave, and considered opening the door, but her stomach settled again, and she sat down.

  Blocking the memory from her mind took time. She diligently pushed it aside, not wanting to think about him ever again. He hadn’t found her. He wouldn’t find her.

  “Alexandra?” she heard someone say, and she recognized the Duke’s words. “What happened there?”

  Chapter 28

  Matthew stood at the coach. He couldn’t think. What had happened? He recalled the moment a few seconds before when the footman had called to him.

  “Your Grace? Are you Lord Blakeley?”

  “I am,” Matthew had said, frowning. Why would anyone ask him that question? He had shown his pass at the door.

  “Your Grace, there’s a man who wishes to speak with you.”