by Cheryl Holt
He rubbed a hand over the center of his chest. His heart was aching, as if the prospect of her going was terribly painful, and he shook his head with disgust.
He was much too manly to be disconsolate over a female. That kind of emotional turmoil was silly and annoying, and as a small boy—after the death of his father and the loss of his sisters—he’d learned that bonds were ridiculous and temporary.
He’d only ever formed one, with Sir Sidney and Sebastian Sinclair, which proved how pointless they were. They were too easily severed, and pretty women were a penny a dozen.
* * * *
Nell was seated on the stool in her dressing room. After being out all night, she’d just crawled out of bed, had just gotten dressed and fixed her hair. She doubted she’d have been missed at breakfast, but she hadn’t yet traipsed down. She didn’t know if she was still confined to her room, and she wasn’t about to risk reigniting Florence’s temper.
The door to the hall was open, and suddenly, she heard someone approaching. It was a man’s booted strides, a determined gait. There was only one person in the manor who walked like that, and he was headed directly toward her.
Was he mad? What if he was observed? What would she do?
At the moment, she didn’t care.
From the instant she’d awakened in her lonely bed, she’d been in a definite state. She still couldn’t figure out why she’d ruined herself, and because she’d never previously engaged in a romance—or even a tiny flirtation—she had no idea what was supposed to transpire now.
She kept studying herself in the mirror, wondering if she looked different. Was there a secret mark imprinted on her that older, more experienced women would recognize? Were there telltale signs that would announce her shame to the world?
As he entered her bedchamber, she leapt off the stool and hurried out to greet him.
They froze, the air filled with affection and yearning and a wild, unrestrained merriment. She was so glad he’d sought her out! If she hadn’t bumped into him first thing, she’d have been heartbroken and afraid over what it might indicate, but here he was, smiling and happy and magnificent.
“Good morning, you slugabed,” he said.
“I was up late,” she saucily retorted, “so I’m being lazy.”
“And while you were up, did you enjoy yourself?”
“Oh, yes, I had quite a grand time.”
They grinned like halfwits, then he rushed over and kissed her fiercely. She kissed him back, displaying her fondness with every fiber of her being, eager for him to understand that she would be his forever if he would just ask her to tarry by his side.
With a nearly desperate yank, he pulled away and inquired, “Have you been downstairs at all? Or have you talked to any of the housemaids?”
“No, why?”
“We’ve experienced a bit of turmoil.”
“What happened?”
“Susan eloped with Trevor.”
Nell gasped and staggered over to a chair. “This is awful. It won’t end well.”
“Mr. Middleton is here.”
She was stunned. “Albert is here?”
“Yes, and he’s been apprised. He’s demanded I ride after them and stop them if I can.”
“Will you?”
“Yes. If I don’t, he plans to have Trevor arrested.”
“You’re an earl though. Couldn’t you prevent him from implementing legal action?”
“Maybe, but he’s very rich, and money buys a lot of influence. He might be able to pursue charges I couldn’t tamp down, and I would hate to have Trevor dragged through the courts. Susan is only twenty, and he can’t abscond with her like this. Her father has every right to be angry.”
“What if they arrive in Scotland and wed before you can catch them?”
He shrugged. “Then…I guess Susan will be his wife, and there will be no unraveling it.”
Nell’s mind was awhirl as she tried to untangle all the various threads. If Susan married Trevor, how would it resolve in the Blake family? Was the crazed pair expecting to waltz to Selby and carry on as if nothing untoward had occurred?
Edwina and Percy would definitely have an opinion about that! If the couple didn’t move to Selby, where would they go? Nell was sure Albert and Florence would never welcome them in London.
No matter what, it appeared Nell’s hopes of residing at Selby were probably dashed. Susan was to have been Percy’s respected, powerful wife. Now what would she be? It might be years—if ever—before she could invite Nell to the estate.
“What a debacle,” she said.
“I agree.”
“Will you allow them to stay at Selby? If you don’t, I can’t imagine what will become of them. I’m certain they’ll find no assistance from her parents.”
“No. Mr. Middleton is extremely aggrieved.”
“And Florence has already been threatening to lock her in a convent—and that was prior to her fleeing with Trevor.”
“Might they calm down later?” he asked.
“I doubt it. They can be incredibly judgmental, and I’m so weary of how unforgiving they can be. I’ve always wanted to escape them too and live somewhere else. For once, I’d like to be safe and content.”
She voiced the comment intentionally, yearning to lead him in the direction she was anxious for him to travel. Visually, she reached out with her dearest dream, letting it envelop him like a cloud. He could utter the right words, and she’d remain at Selby with him.
After pondering their amour and where it should take them, the solution that dawned on her was so simple: She should be his bride. She loved him so deeply, and while she wasn’t so foolish as to presume he loved her too, he seemed to possess a potent affection.
She was on pins and needles, praying he viewed the situation the same way. He could propose, and she would accept. It was a bizarre notion, but why couldn’t it transpire?
He was an earl, and it was an unwritten rule of the world that an aristocrat never wed a girl like her, but he wasn’t the type who worried about that sort of restriction. Why couldn’t they marry?
Besides, the previous evening, they’d engaged in marital relations. It had been a glorious event, but it had been sinful and wrong too. They were supposed to wed now. They had no other choice. The law required it. The Church demanded it. Society expected it. Did he realize that fact?
Apparently, her soulful, desperate message didn’t hit its target. Or maybe it bounced off. No warm remarks were offered. No proposal was tendered. No recognition flashed that he’d grasped what she was suggesting.
She held very still, determined not to display an ounce of the distress she was suffering. She needed a father or brother to speak for her. A man could point out the obvious, could compel him to behave appropriately.
Suddenly, she felt as if she was staring at him across a raging river. He was on one bank, and she was on the other, and she could never swim over to him.
“I have to tell you a few things very fast,” he said, and he clasped her hands, raising her to her feet.
“What things?” she inquired, struggling to hide her anguish.
“You’re leaving immediately—with the Middletons.”
“Oh.”
“My aunt and Mrs. Middleton had a fight, and Edwina ordered her to pack her bags and depart. With circumstances so chaotic, it’s probably for the best that she go.”
“Who decided I have to go with her? I’m not ready to return to London, especially with Susan in the middle of such a predicament. I wish there was some other road for me to walk.” She waited, then waited some more, to have him latch onto the overture she’d provided, but he didn’t.
“Mr. Middleton decided about you,” he told her, “and I’m heading off to Scotland. I wanted to say goodbye.”
She forced a smile. “Well…ah…I’m so relieved you thought of it. If I’d missed you, I’d have been so upset.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”
�
��I don’t know either.”
“After matters are smoothed over, when Susan and Trevor are back, perhaps we could get together.”
“Yes, I’d like that. I’ll contemplate the situation and think of how we could arrange it.”
It all sounded so blasé, as if they were casual acquaintances. She searched his eyes, hunting for strong sentiment, but it wasn’t there. If anything, he looked irked and in a hurry, as if he was aggravated at having to take a minute to bother with her.
“I’m so glad you came to Selby,” he said.
“So am I.”
“I’m glad we met.”
“Me too.”
He pulled her close and hugged her so tightly she could barely breathe. Then footsteps echoed in the hall, and they lurched apart. The door was still open, and before they could blink, Florence loomed into the room.
When she saw Nathan, she blanched and huffed with offense. “Lord Selby, I have no idea why you’re in here—alone—with my ward, but you will leave at once.”
“Hello, Mrs. Middleton,” was all he said, and his cheeks flamed a vivid red.
Was he ashamed to have been caught with her? It certainly seemed as if he was.
“Be gone, you impertinent cur,” Florence sternly scolded, “and please don’t make me tell you twice. Otherwise, I will have to embarrass both of us by mentioning the rumors that are racing around the house about you and Nell. I will simply bid you good day and goodbye.”
Florence stared him down, and he stared back. It was a tremendously awkward moment, and with her talking about rumors, it was quite terrifying too. With Susan having caused such a ruckus, Florence would be eager to lash out, and Nell was the only one in striking distance.
Nell gaped at him, curious as to what he was thinking. A stupid surge of excitement swept through her as she anxiously hoped—with the conclusion in sight and the stakes dire—he would recognize he had to take a stand. He would declare himself, would inform Florence that Nell wouldn’t be accompanying her, that he was keeping her with him at Selby.
But that was the kind of ending that happened in romantic novels and theatrical plays, but never in real life.
“Lord Selby! Please!” Florence admonished. “I’ve asked politely, and you’ve stirred enough trouble for her. Now go!”
He sighed and spun to Nell. Finally, there was fondness in his gaze. On observing it, tears flooded her eyes.
“I hate that my conduct may have ignited gossip about you.” He was genuinely regretful. “Mrs. Middleton is correct, so I guess…ah…I shouldn’t tarry.”
Clearly, he wished they’d had time for a more intimate farewell, but what would have been the reason to prolong their parting? And besides, with Florence glaring, it wasn’t possible.
For a heady instant, she thought he might reach out and squeeze her hand, but he didn’t. He nodded to her, then to Florence, then he walked out without another word.
Nell heard a peculiar sound, and she suspected it was her heart breaking. She yearned to run into the hall, to watch him retreating down the corridor, for she was positive it would be her last glimpse of him.
“I will not inquire as to why he felt free to visit you here,” Florence seethed, once his strides faded. “I’m in no mood for lies.”
Nell told one anyway. “He merely wanted to confer about Susan. He was wondering if I was aware of the debacle and if she’d shared her plans with me.”
“A likely story,” Florence spat, “but it appears you’ve learned of my daughter’s disgrace.”
“I know about her elopement,” Nell calmly replied, “but must we refer to it as disgraceful? She might be very happy with Trevor. He might turn out to be the best husband ever. Can’t we look at the bright side before we proclaim it a disaster?”
“Susan is disowned and disinherited. Trevor Blake is debased and dishonored. You and I have been ordered to vacate the premises—immediately. Pack your bag, and hurry please. Mr. Middleton is waiting for us in the carriage, and considering his foul temper, we shouldn’t dawdle and try his patience.”
Nell could have argued, could have refused to oblige her, but Nathan had had several chances to invite her to remain at Selby, and he hadn’t.
What other option was there but to obey Florence? She lived with the Middletons and always had. Albert had complete control over her, and in many ways, he and Florence were her parents. Nell had no other family to take her in, no other friend but Susan who might have offered her a refuge.
But Susan was in more trouble than Nell. Who could predict where Susan would end up? In the future, she’d barely be able to find her own shelter. She’d have very little of it to provide to Nell, and Nell had pushed her luck with Florence. If she wasn’t careful, she might be branded a harlot and kicked out—with nowhere to go and not a farthing in her pocket.
After such a lengthy acquaintance, she didn’t think the Middletons would treat her so shabbily, but in light of their fury, she wouldn’t gamble on how they might act.
She went to the bed, pulled her portmanteau out from under it, and set it on the mattress so she could toss in her belongings as swiftly as she could. Florence was right. They shouldn’t delay and make Albert angrier than he already was.
* * * *
Edwina stood at an upstairs window and peered down into the driveway. The Middletons were leaving, and she was eager to see them depart.
Her whole life, she’d been taught that blood foretold a person’s character. With Susan playing the part of temptress and luring Trevor off to Scotland, she’d proven the truth of that old adage. She had the blood of common folks in her veins, so she’d behaved in a very common manner.
Booted strides echoed behind her, but she didn’t glance around. She knew it was Nathan.
“What are you looking at?” he asked as he came over to stand next to her.
“The Middletons are climbing into their coach. I want to be sure they go as I’ve demanded. Especially that tart, Nell Drummond.”
“Now, now, don’t disparage her. I like her. She’s very sweet.”
“Very sweet indeed!” She peeked over at him. “A housemaid caught her sneaking in at dawn.”
“Really?” he coolly replied.
“Would you like to explain why she was out and about so late?”
“No, I would not,” he maddeningly said. “If she was cavorting, it’s none of my affair.”
“Liar.”
“Be careful, Aunt. You’re on thin ice with me today, and you’re about at the limit of what I’ll tolerate.”
Just then, Miss Drummond exited the manor. She was only visible for a moment, and as she flitted by, Nathan extended his hand and rested it on the glass of the window, as if he yearned to reach for her and drag her back inside.
Edwina studied him with an enormous amount of disgust. He had few secrets from her. Oh, he thought he was utterly enigmatic, but he wasn’t. He had no hidden depths, no dark corners. He was a vain, pompous cad—like all the other Blake men to whom he was related.
“Did you ruin her?” Edwina asked. “Is that where we are with her?”
“Be silent, Edwina.”
“I won’t be. What if she winds up with child? What then?”
“Since I didn’t ruin her, it won’t ever transpire.”
His denial was firm and fierce, but she noticed—for an instant—he’d hesitated, as if the prospect hadn’t ever occurred to him. Of course it hadn’t. Every Blake male was a rutting dog, and when they set their sights on an innocent girl, they never considered the consequences.
“You’re thirty,” she scolded, “but you haven’t picked a bride yet. When you finally select someone, will you have to inform her you have a bastard lurking? Is that the first story you’ll tell her?”
He didn’t respond, but continued to gaze down at the coach. The passengers were loaded, the bags and trunks too. A footman shut the door and removed the step. The outriders leapt on board, and the driver cracked his whip. The horses strained in their
harness, and the vehicle lumbered away.
Gradually, it sped up and was swallowed by the trees.
He watched it vanish, then watched a minute more, and she watched him. He was very forlorn, as if his heart was broken. Over a tart? Over a common hussy? How ridiculous!
Eventually, he turned toward her, and he scowled, as if he’d just realized she was still there.
“I should like to clarity an important fact to you, Edwina,” he quietly, sternly said. “You will never mention Miss Drummond to me again. You will never offer derogatory remarks about her to me or anyone. From now on, you will act as if you’ve never met the young lady. Have I made myself clear?”
She might have argued over his edict, but he appeared positively ferocious, and she’d had enough quarreling for one day.
“Yes, you’ve been very clear.” It dawned on her that he was dressed in traveling clothes: leather trousers, wool coat, scuffed boots. “You’re leaving? In the middle of all this upheaval?”
“Yes. I’m riding after Susan and Trevor.”
She blanched. “You will not ride after them.”
“I promised Mr. Middleton.”
“Why worry about him?”
“If I don’t stop them, he intends to have Trevor arrested and prosecuted.”
Edwina huffed with offense. “I’d like to see him try!”
“I’d rather not risk it. Nor will I instigate more discord with him. I’ve agreed to find them and talk some sense into them.”
“Don’t you dare! They can stew in their own juice.”
“I’m sure you’d relish that conclusion, but it’s not what I’ve chosen to pursue.”
“This is all Susan’s fault! She’s a slattern. She engaged herself to one of my sons, but when he wasn’t to her liking, she seduced the other one. You should wash your hands of them. They can live on their love until they’re strangled by it.”
He rolled his eyes. “I guess I’m not as cruel as you and Mr. Middleton. In my view, they’re little more than children, and they’ve behaved irresponsibly. It’s not the end of the world. I’ll locate them and bring them back.”
“You will not bring them here! You will not!”
“It’s not up to you. Selby is mine—as you never cease to remind me—and I’m proceeding as I deem appropriate. I like Trevor, and if he’s happy to have Susan as his bride, that’s fine with me.”
