by Jane Ashford
“It has to be Wales,” Georgina said. “There’s not so much forest anywhere else around Stane.”
“We’ll head east then, tomorrow.” Sebastian had just returned from looking for the ravine, and had been unable to locate it in the failing light. It had veered away from them at some unknown point under cover of vegetation. “I’ll make a fire.”
“Can’t you gather wild plants and snare a rabbit and make a savory hunter’s stew?” Georgina asked, only half teasing. She was hungry enough to eat almost anything. They’d found a stream on their trek and gotten a drink, but the relief of water had merely sharpened her appetite.
“I was reared as a hunter, not a poacher,” Sebastian responded with a short laugh. “I might be able to set a snare if I had some string or wire, but I’ve never caught any game that way. If we had a gun…”
“I shall take one whenever I ride out from now on,” she declared.
Sebastian built a fire. He found a trickle of a spring that gave them another much-needed drink. They settled back against the trunk of a huge oak and watched the flames leap.
“My parents must be frantic,” Georgina said. “They will have sent the whole household out to search for us.” She wondered what Hilda had told them. Her sister would have had some wild story ready, but it wouldn’t have held up this long.
“Sykes will be out looking, too,” said Sebastian. “My valet,” he explained when Georgina looked puzzled. “And up to anything.” As was Georgina, he thought. How many women would have endured this slog across country without complaining or turning shrewish? She was a marvel. And she looked exhausted. He really had to get her home. He frowned. “I still don’t see why we weren’t found right away.” They had wondered over this repeatedly. “It’s all very odd.”
“Yes.” She looked at his profile in the firelight. What would she have done without him? “Though I’m not sorry it wasn’t right away.”
He turned to look at her. She saw the memories of their lovemaking in his blue eyes as he folded her hand tenderly in his. Too tired and battered to do more, they fell asleep side by side, sitting up, cradled by the trunk of the ancient tree.
The next day, they walked on eastward. In the afternoon, the forest finally began to thin as the ground rose.
“Is that Offa’s Dyke?” Georgina asked a little while later.
“It’s hard to tell one ridge from another,” Sebastian replied.
“Don’t let my father hear you say so. I think it is. Look, it goes on along that line.” She pointed.
After a moment Sebastian saw what she meant. “I think you’re right. If we only knew where we were along it, we could find our way straight back to the castle. But finding it is a step in the right direction.”
“So to speak,” Georgina joked.
He just glanced at her.
“The right direction… Never mind.” Georgina had noticed that her betrothed wasn’t quick with plays on words. This one had been silly anyway.
They struggled up the Dyke and over it to continue moving east. The light was starting to fade when Sebastian heard a sound in the distance and stopped. Georgina stumbled a little at the sudden halt. “Listen,” he said. He strained his ears. He was nearly sure he heard something. “Over here!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, making Georgina jump. He waited. This time he was certain he heard a response.
They endured a tense time of inarticulate words flung back and forth, and then Sykes appeared in the gloaming, riding a dun horse and leading Whitefoot and Georgina’s mount.
“By God, I knew you’d come looking,” said Sebastian. “And a welcome sight you are, man.”
“My lord,” replied his valet, dismounting. “I must say the same. I’m very glad to find you. I knew you could not have eloped. I never believed it for a moment.”
Eight
Sebastian and Georgina gaped at Sykes’s tall, thin figure. Even in the midst of a wilderness search he looked impeccably groomed, his dark clothing without a speck of dust.
“Did you say eloped?” Sebastian asked. He couldn’t have heard that right. Yet he was pretty certain he hadn’t lost his wits, despite his dragging fatigue and gnawing hunger.
“The young lady said so, but I was convinced she had to be mistaken.” Sykes might have been standing in Sebastian’s bedchamber, discussing a choice of waistcoats. But their years of association allowed Sebastian to spot real concern in his valet’s shrewd brown eyes.
“What young lady?” said Georgina. “No, never mind. Of course it was Hilda.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“I’ll kill her.”
Sebastian frowned, puzzled. “Perhaps Whitefoot did run off, and she thought…” But how Georgina’s sister could have gotten from a runaway horse to an elopement defeated him. It simply made no sense.
Sykes gave a discreet cough. “I found Whitefoot and her ladyship’s mount in a farmer’s barn not too far from where you were last seen,” he told them.
“Evans, I’ll wager,” said Georgina through a clenched jaw.
“That was the name,” Sykes agreed.
“So the horses ran off to the nearest shelter,” Sebastian guessed.
“Oh, I wager they were taken there,” Georgina said. Beneath the dirt, her face looked grim.
“As to that, the farmer’s son would not give me any information,” the valet replied. “He claimed that he’d been, er, sworn to secrecy.”
“You’ve gone too far this time, Hilda,” said Georgina. She closed her hands into dirt-streaked fists. “I’ll have her shut in the dungeons.”
Sykes blinked. This interesting threat shook him a little out of his role as the perfect servitor. “Are there dungeons at the castle?”
“They’re mostly bricked up. But I shall persuade Papa to reopen one.” Her teeth flashed white in the growing gloom. It was more a snarl than a smile.
“But why would she say such a thing?” Sebastian wondered.
“Why is the least of it! How did she dare?”
Even in his current state, Sebastian could admire the crackle of her anger. He didn’t envy young Hilda. Although, from what he’d seen, he expected she could hold her own.
“Shall we return to the castle?” Sykes suggested. “Your parents have been quite…concerned, my lady.”
Georgina barked a laugh at this. “I’m surprised we didn’t hear the shouting from the bottom of the ravine. Yes, let us go. The sooner this is straightened out, the better.”
She strode over to her horse like a trooper heading into battle. Despite, or perhaps because of, the streaks of dirt and verdure on her habit and the wild disarray of her hair, Sebastian thought she looked magnificent. He helped her into the saddle and mounted up himself. After days of trudging through mud and tramping around woodlands in unsuitable boots, the ride back to Stane seemed almost magically easy. Sebastian recounted their misadventure to Sykes as they went, omitting, of course, the intimacies he and his betrothed had shared.
They rode directly to the stables when they reached the castle. Sebastian had a feeble hope that he might get some food and a bath before facing the family. But word of their return spread like lightning through the place. They’d hardly made it to the front door when Georgina’s parents were upon them.
“Where the devil have you been?” roared the marquess in fine, old patriarchal style.
“Your clothes, your hair,” Georgina’s mother exclaimed. “You look like you’ve been dragged through the spinney backwards.”
Georgina put a hand to her snarled tresses. For the first time, she looked distressed.
Sebastian couldn’t have that. He stepped forward to shield her. “We had an accident at the prospect overlooking the waterfall.”
“You call eloping with my daughter an accident?” growled his host, red-faced and furious.
“There’s been some mistake
about that, sir. We had no thought of an elopement. Nothing of the sort. Wouldn’t dream of such a thing. It was…”
“Then where have you been for four days?” the marquess interrupted. “Four days, you blackguard, God knows where, alone with my daughter. Do you tell me you’re not married?”
“I fell into a ravine,” Georgina shouted. Volume seemed to be the only way to get her father’s attention. “Sebastian saved my life!”
This was an exaggeration, but Sebastian let it go. It made a good impression.
“Ravine?” echoed the marquess, turning on her. “What ravine?”
“There’s a narrow crevice near the place we always go to view the waterfall, Papa. I didn’t know it was there either, until I blundered into it. It’s masked with bushes and brambles.” She held out her hand to show her scratches. “I injured my leg rather badly in the fall. I must sit down, Papa.”
Sebastian noted that she exaggerated her limp as she went over to a chair and sank into it.
“You must be taken up to your room,” said her mother, stepping forward. “I’ll send for the doctor.”
“And something to eat, Mama.” Georgina gave her parents a tragic face. “We’ve had no food in all this time. We’re starving.”
This combined appeal temporarily ended the interrogation. Orders flew about. The marquess carried Georgina upstairs, having fiercely rejected Sebastian’s offer to do so.
Twenty minutes later, the errant couple was settled on separate chairs in the drawing room in quickly changed clothing, faces and hands washed, with trays of sandwiches before them. Only the master and mistress of Stane Castle were in attendance. Everyone else had been dismissed. Hilda had done her best to linger, Sebastian observed. He suspected she was even now listening at the keyhole, but he was too busy devouring the most delicious bread, mustard, and roast beef he’d ever tasted to care. He let Georgina tell their tale; she knew her parents best.
“And so we walked east,” she ended after a time. “And Sebastian’s valet discovered us not far past the Dyke.” She frowned at her parents. “He seemed to be the only one out searching.”
“Hilda said you’d eloped,” replied her father defensively. “Fergus and I led a party up the north road. When we found no trace, we thought you were long gone to Gretna Green.”
“More than two hundred miles? On horseback?” Georgina asked incredulously.
Her mother gestured at the marquess. “Alfred supposed you’d made arrangements.” The look she gave him had an I-told-you-so air.
“Why, Papa? Why would you imagine we’d eloped? Why should we? We’re getting married in a few weeks!”
“Hilda seemed so certain,” he muttered.
“Hilda!” Georgina stared at her parents until they dropped their eyes.
“This does not change the fact that you were gone for days,” said her father. “Out there, alone.” He gestured at the window. “Very compromising situation.”
“We’re getting married, Papa.” One of Georgina’s hands reached out, as if of its own accord, and took Sebastian’s. He squeezed it reassuringly. “No one need know about this,” she added. “We’re far from the London gossips here.”
“I fear it won’t be quite so easy,” answered her mother. Her tone was regretful and somehow smug at the same time.
“Why not?” asked Georgina. She looked from one parent to the other, frowning.
“Your papa told the duchess,” answered her mother.
“What!” exclaimed Sebastian, dropping his fiancée’s hand and sitting bolt upright. He grabbed for the tray as it nearly toppled off his knees.
“He wrote to her. Sent a fast courier.”
Sebastian closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He could all too easily picture this astonishing news running through his family—the letters flying back and forth, the disbelief and consternation. The surreptitious brotherly smirking. An image of his mother’s astonished face made him wince.
“Some people think I don’t care about convention,” muttered the marquess. “Not true. And this was too much. An elopement!”
“Except that it wasn’t, Papa,” Georgina pointed out. “It was an unfortunate accident. I think you might have had more faith in my character.”
Frowning at the floor, the older man said something too softly to be heard. Sebastian thought it might have been, “It wasn’t you I was worried about.”
“She’s sending your brother,” added the marchioness. She tried to speak blandly, but Sebastian got a clear sense of a woman getting the better of an argument at last.
The marquess glared at the group with a mixture of defiance and contrition.
“Which brother?” Sebastian asked.
“Randolph,” supplied his hostess.
Sebastian groaned softly. If anything could have killed his appetite at this point, the news that a brother had been dispatched to sort him out would have done it. He supposed this was his mother’s idea of just retribution for what she probably characterized as “antics.” She would have known that he would never elope.
If she’d had to send a brother, she could’ve drafted Robert. He’d have made a joke of the whole matter and charmed everyone so thoroughly that they saw it the same way. Alan or James might have refused to be embroiled in such a tangle at all. Nathaniel was still on his honeymoon. Mama couldn’t order him and Violet about quite so easily, anyway.
Randolph, though. Sebastian nearly groaned again. Randolph was usually glad for an excuse to take a few days’ leave from his far-northern parish. And he positively delighted in helping. Sebastian supposed that was why he’d become a parson. Part of the reason. He’d also been asking “why” since he could speak. According to family legend, that had been the first word Randolph learned. Sebastian certainly remembered being followed about by a relentlessly inquisitive toddler.
Nathaniel, a responsible six-year-old, had become so tired of saying he didn’t know that he’d taken to making things up. Sebastian still sometimes had to remind himself that discarded snakeskins were products of reptilian growth rather than intense surprise. Sebastian smiled. Randolph had spent several months trying to startle snakes out of their skin after that tale.
Then Sebastian’s smile died, and he put down his last sandwich. Randolph would revel in Mr. Mitra and the marquess’s lectures on reincarnation. There would be no end to his questions, or to the incomprehensible discussions after the ladies had left the dinner table. Sebastian only just resisted putting his head in his hands.
Georgina was looking at him, though, her expression anxious. He tried a reassuring smile. From her response, he judged that it was only marginally effective. He bolstered it, vowing to deal with Randolph. He would face anything to save her distress.
Georgina stood, holding her still half-full plate to her chest. “I believe I’ll go to my room now,” she said. “I’m quite tired.”
Her father looked guilty, her mother approving. Sebastian wondered at the determination on her face. It seemed excessive for a walk up a few steps. Was her leg hurting? One look at her father told him he would not be allowed to assist her to a bed.
Night had deepened by the time Georgina managed to hunt down Hilda and corner her in a little-used reception room, where she’d apparently been holed up for a good while, judging from the cake crumbs. Georgina stationed herself between her youngest sister and the door and confronted her with hands on hips. “Have you lost your mind?” she demanded.
For a moment, it seemed that Hilda might deny everything, but then she slumped back on the sofa and let out a long sigh. “I only meant to leave you overnight, but everything went wrong from the very first. Whitefoot didn’t like being led. He jerked the rein right out of my hand and ran away. I had to take your Sylph to the Evans farm before I could chase after him. It took hours before I got him there as well.” She paused and looked indignant. “Emma abandoned me!
She turned tail and rode home. And she’s been practically hiding in her bedchamber ever since.”
“Perhaps she feels a sense of remorse for having done something absolutely outrageous,” Georgina suggested.
Hilda wrinkled her nose. “Well, we came back first thing the next morning to get you.”
“That does not excuse…”
“And you were gone!” Hilda actually dared to look reproachful. “As if you’d vanished into thin air.”
“Thick mud, more like,” said Georgina.
“If you had just waited, or only walked a little way along the trail, we would have found you. And there wouldn’t have been such a very great fuss. Why didn’t you? How could you be so clumsy as to fall into a gully?” Hilda cocked her head. “I never even knew it was there.”
“Don’t even dream of blaming this on me!” Georgina gazed at her sister. They were alike in coloring and frame, but apparently their minds ran on entirely different paths. “What did you expect to accomplish by this…this idiotic prank?”
“I thought Papa would make you get married right away,” came the prompt reply.
The gaze Hilda turned on Georgina was guileless. She truly didn’t seem to see the many shortcomings of her plan. “Because you’re impatient?” Georgina asked, though she knew the answer already.
“I simply cannot bear living in this place any longer,” Hilda declared with a toss of her head and a wide gesture worthy of the London stage.
Georgina let the implications of that pass for now. She had larger questions. “But when you couldn’t find us, why in the world did you tell everyone we’d eloped? You knew it was a lie. And a malicious one at that.”
Hilda squirmed in her seat. “I couldn’t figure out what had become of you! We searched, but Emma kept distracting me with her worrying, and then her blubbering. I didn’t know what to do! And when we finally had to come home, I was afraid Emma would blurt out the whole before I had a chance to…to manage the story. I had to speak first. I was flustered. And…it just came out of my mouth.”
