The Sergeant Major's Daughter

by Sheila Walsh

  She was obliging enough to be standing a little apart from the rest, her shoulders drooping disconsolately, this inevitable guitar and shabby portmanteau at her feet.

  He swung around to rein in beside her and sprang down, summoning a lad to hold the horses.

  Felicity’s head jerked upward; instinctively she retreated a step. He noted her reaction.

  “Well you might!” he said softly. “What new nonsense is this?”

  “I am going away,” she said unnecessarily.

  “So you were good enough to inform me in your very civil missive.” He waved the letter under her nose. “You are mistaken, however. I am come to take you home.”

  “No, my lord.”

  “Do you come willingly?” he asked, as though she had not spoken. “Or must I use force?”

  For once she sensed his resolution was greater than hers—and was confused. The color came and went in her face.

  “Don’t be idiotish!” she protested weakly. “You cannot mean to abduct me from so public a place!”

  “Can I not?”

  Several people were beginning to eye them curiously.

  The stage driver, her friend of last year, looked as though he would intervene.

  Some of her old spirit returned. “And if I resist you, sir—summon assistance? What then?”

  “Why, I shall explain that you have been turned off—and are attempting to abscond with the family silver. No one will care to doubt me, I think.”

  “Oh—you would do it, too!” she accused him with the ghost of a laugh ... and then in sudden panic, “Please, my lord! Let me go!”

  “Never!” he declared vehemently. “I know how you feel about Tremaine, but it will pass. I will make you forget him!”

  “Johnny?” Her bewilderment was apparent. “What has Johnny to do with it?”

  His face went blank, and then began to warm.

  Without a word, he lifted her into the curricle and tossed her belongings unceremoniously after her.

  “My lord—Max—I can’t!” she protested, laughing. “Mollie Patterson is expecting me.”

  “We’ll send her a message by special courier,” he said, dismissing the good lady with arrogant unconcern. “She will be the first to wish you happy. Come now ... you had best submit.”

  Free of the town the Earl pulled off the road. He removed Felicity’s bonnet with fingers that shook slightly.

  “Did you really suppose that I would let you go?” he demanded of her, and proceeded to demonstrate his ardor with the utmost thoroughness. “I should have done that days ago ... would have done if I hadn’t returned from London to find young Tremaine practically sitting in your pocket! Lord knows, I had been wanting to ever since the night I assaulted you so disgracefully, my dearest love!”

  “And I have been in an agony, convinced that you did not care!” Felicity chuckled softly. “We have made a sad botch of things between us!”

  “Not any longer,” he admonished. “I give you fair warning, I’ll stand no nonsense about betrothals and bride clothes and the like! One such affair in the family will more than suffice! You shall have a mountain of clothes later, if you wish, but I have a special license burning a hole in my pocket at this very moment, and I intend to make use of it with indecent haste!”

  “Do you?” Felicity stared, entranced. “Then I shan’t care a button even if I must stand up to be married in my shift! But, oh my dearest lord—are you quite sure?”

  He demonstrated just how much, to her complete satisfaction.

  “I shan’t change my ways, you know,” she prophesied, settling comfortably into his shoulder.

  “I do know.” He seemed undaunted by the prospect. “But it is my intention to keep you fully occupied. Since you are so good at managing children, I mean to provide you with a quiverful of your own.”

  Felicity gurgled irrepressibly. “Thank you, my lord! And I suppose you will arrange for all the boys to have the Delamere nose? And their father’s charm?”

  “Of course. And all the girls will have shining chestnut hair, and eyes that fizz when they are angry...” His intense scrutiny was making her blush. “... and betray their inmost feelings when they least realize it—as yours are doing at this very moment. And as for mouths,” he murmured, warming to this theme...

  “Max! The stage is coming...” In a panic, Felicity struggled to sit upright, but her lord was adamant and she finally submitted in laughing confusion.

  The stage swept around the bend and bore down on them. As it flashed past, the outside passengers raised a spontaneous cheer, totally drowning the sole dissenter to comment sourly upon the Gentry’s flagrant disregard for the sensibilities of others.

  The driver grinned broadly and the guard, with a flourish, treated them to a final triumphant fanfare.