Mr. Rushford's Honor

by Meg Alexander

  ‘I didn’t think,’ she told him frankly. ‘When I heard that he was alone with Mair and Elspeth I forgot the danger. I’d fought him off before, you know.’

  Giles held her away from him and looked down at the vivid little face.

  ‘What am I to do with you, my love? Will you still be battling on when we are old and grey, forgetting that you have a husband to take care of you?’

  ‘I doubt that I shall forget my husband…’ Gina raised her face to his, reaching up to trace the outlines of his mobile mouth with her fingertips. ‘You are dearer to me than life itself…’

  He kissed her then, and the world was lost to them as they pledged their love in a passionate embrace.

  Gina released herself at last, and, blushing, she looked round for her father. Discreetly, George Westcott had disappeared.

  ‘We had best go before we are discovered.’ Gina managed a faint smile. ‘I am in no fit state to greet the world at present.’

  Giles grinned at her. ‘Fear not! Our friends will think only that my passion got the better of me…’

  ‘Why, Giles, that would cause a scandal!’

  ‘And shall you care, my love? What happened to the woman who had no regard for conventions?’

  ‘I intend to change when we are married,’ she said demurely.

  ‘God forbid!’ Giles looked at her in mock horror. ‘What shall I do for entertainment…?’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something…’ With a wicked smile Gina whisked away from him and slipped through the entrance to the grotto.

  As Gina had hoped, no breath of scandal was ever attached to the sudden departure of Samuel Westcott from Abbot Quincey. He’d given pressure of business as his excuse, and this was generally accepted. George gave a sigh of relief and announced his intention to marry Ellie without delay, since Gina was already spoken for and his father could no longer pressure him.

  Gina herself had soon recovered from her ordeal. As her wedding day approached she was fully occupied in making arrangements for Mair and Elspeth to stay with India for the duration of her honeymoon.

  ‘Are you quite sure?’ she asked anxiously. ‘The girls would be happy to visit their relations in Scotland.’

  ‘Oh, let us have them,’ India begged. ‘It is such fun to have the young about the place…’

  ‘But you say that about the old, my dear. What of Mrs Clewes?’

  ‘Gina, she is a boon! My mother is now fully occupied. Mrs Clewes is a marvel. Mama has not even interfered in the arrangements for your wedding…’

  ‘Still playing cards?’ Gina twinkled at her friend.

  ‘That, and gossip, my dear. Anthony is off on some mysterious errand at this very moment. He won’t get through the doorway before they pounce on him…’

  There was much truth in her remarks, but Lord Isham was looking thoughtful as he entered the room.

  ‘Anthony, what is it?’ India’s eyes searched her husband’s face. ‘Do you bring us news?’

  ‘I do.’ Isham sat down by her and took her hand. ‘I’m sure it will delight you. I hear that there is now a real possibility that the Earl of Yardley will regain possession of the Abbey.’

  There was a general murmur of approval.

  ‘Is it certain?’ Giles said doubtfully. ‘I thought there was at present no visible owner…’

  ‘It won’t happen overnight,’ Isham agreed. ‘But, as you know, Yardley was in the process of negotiating to buy it back from Sywell, though the sale was not confirmed before the Marquis died.’

  ‘But what of the Marchioness? Suppose she reappears?’ India looked concerned.

  ‘Yardley has considered that possibility. If his lands are returned to him and she returns he has promised that she will be cared for, both financially and in every other way.’

  ‘How like him!’ India’s face was alight with pleasure. ‘Oh, my dear, just think what it will mean to the local people to have Yardley back again! How soon shall we be certain?’

  ‘Not before November, I imagine. There are the legalities to consider, and these matters take time. Representations have been made to the authorities.’

  Isham saw that Mrs Clewes was looking puzzled. ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘I was just wondering, My Lord…who is the Earl of Yardley? I have not heard of him…’

  Mrs Rushford gave a gusty sigh. ‘My dear Madam, the Earls of Yardley were the greatest landowners in this district. They have owned Steepwood Abbey for generations, that is, until some twenty years ago, when the place was gambled away to Sywell.’

  ‘All of it?’ Thomas Newby was incredulous. ‘The Earl could not have been in his right mind…’

  ‘He wasn’t!’ Giles said bluntly. ‘Mother, you know the story better than any of us. Won’t you explain?’

  Delighted to be the centre of attention, Isabel Rushford settled back in her chair. ‘It started with a scandal,’ she said with relish. ‘Viscount Angmering, Yardley’s eldest son, returned from his Grand Tour with some young French aristocrat. The Earl refused his consent to the marriage because the girl was a Catholic. When Angmering refused to give her up his father threw him off.’

  Mrs Clewes pursed her lips in disapproval. ‘I’d have stood by my child no matter what he’d done,’ she announced.

  ‘And so would I!’ India said warmly. ‘Up to and including murder!’

  ‘Women!’ Isham shook his head at them but he was smiling. ‘Isabel, will you go on?’

  ‘Well, the news came from France that Angmering had been killed in a bread riot. His father was distraught, blaming himself for banishing his heir. The Earl went up to town and started drinking. Somehow he found himself in Sywell’s company at one of the gambling clubs. That night he lost everything at the tables—the Abbey, his lands, the house in town and his estates in the north of England. Then he shot himself…’

  India looked at her mother in concern. Mrs Rushford was pale and trembling. Her story was all too close to home. To a lesser extent Gareth Rushford had done the same.

  Isham offered her a glass of wine, but she waved it away, determined to continue her story. ‘Thomas Cleeve is the present Earl. He inherited after the death of the Earl and Viscount Angmering. He’s tried for years to buy back Steepwood Abbey.’

  ‘He’s wealthy, then?’ Mrs Clewes was fascinated.

  ‘He made his fortune in India, so I understand. I never heard scandal of him. What a boon it would be to have the family back at Steepwood Abbey…’

  ‘Most certainly.’ Isham looked round at the assembled company. ‘Yardley takes his responsibilities seriously. Already he has paid off monies owed to the local tradesmen, but we must be patient. Now it has been discovered that Sywell gained the Abbey by murdering the old Earl, rather than honourably, if all goes well the present Earl’s heritage will be restored to him before the year’s end.’

  ‘And then?’ Giles questioned.

  ‘Why, then the local people may look forward to better times. There will be work for all. Yardley intends to restore the Abbey and improve his lands. He speaks of repairing the workers’ cottages, hedging, ditching, rotation of crops, and general profitability.’

  Giles did not attempt to hide his pleasure. ‘And the tenant farmers on his land? Are they to get some help?’

  ‘With your assistance, Giles. The Earl is hoping to see you soon. He intends to make full use of your inventions.’

  ‘Then we must invite him to our wedding.’ Gina’s smile was radiant. ‘Will he come, do you suppose?’

  ‘I don’t doubt it, Gina.’

  Isabel Rushford touched a handkerchief to her eyes. ‘Just two more days and my children will be gone from me,’ she mourned. ‘What it is to be old and lonely…!’

  ‘You will be much in need of company,’ Isham agreed. ‘What do you say to a trip to Brighton with Mrs Clewes? Many of your bosom bows will be there for the Prince’s stay. He will be happy to make your acquaintance…’

  Mrs Rushford brightened at once. ‘Do you sa
y that we shall be received at the Pavillion by the Prince himself? That is something I have dreamed of. We shall meet the highest in the land…and the shops…! Oh, my dears, if my health will stand it, I shall be happy to undertake the journey.’ Then she bethought herself of her proposed companion. ‘Mrs Clewes may not wish to go…’ she said sadly.

  ‘Whyever not?’ the lady replied. Earlier she had been primed by Isham, who assured her that the Prince was anxious to make her acquaintance. Isham was on safe ground. He had already entertained the Prince with stories of the redoubtable widow from Bristol, and he knew that Mrs Clewes was quite in the Regent’s style.

  ‘Then if you insist…!’ Mrs Rushford allowed herself to be persuaded into undertaking an extravagant holiday at her son-in-law’s expense.

  ‘This is such a happy time for all of us,’ she said brightly.

  That sentiment was echoed in many a heart.

  On the day of the wedding the sun shone upon both brides. They arrived together at the church in Abbot Quincey, with Letty upon Isham’s arm and Gina with her father.

  The crowds overflowed into the churchyard, commenting with awed approval upon the gowns, the bonnets, the flowers, and the handsome appearance of the guests.

  Gina was unaware of it. She had dressed with care that morning in an elegant gown of finest ivory silk beneath a tunic of spider lace in the same shade. A tiny head-dress sat upon her shining hair, trimmed only with a few pearls.

  She would never outshine the beautiful Letty, and she had no intention of doing so. The girl beside her was a vision of loveliness in her bridal gown, but the onlookers could not decide which of the two looked the happier.

  For Gina there was only Giles, waiting for her at the altar steps. She looked long into his eyes, and saw there a man restored to love and life, waiting to claim her as his bride.

  When they made their vows she found that she was trembling, but he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and she smiled up at him with misty eyes.

  The rest of the day had a dreamlike quality and later she had little recollection of the celebrations, the sumptuous wedding breakfast at Perceval Hall, and the congratulations of her friends.

  Giles stole her away at last, laughing as he hurried her to the waiting carriage.

  ‘I thought we’d never get away,’ he said, as he slipped his arm about her waist. ‘Now I can kiss you as I’ve longed to do all day, my darling wife.’

  Gina lifted her face to his. ‘Is it really true?’ she asked in wonder. ‘I can’t believe that we are wed at last.’

  ‘Why, Mrs Rushford, I am deeply shocked! Here we are, about to live together for the next fifty years or so, and you doubt that we are wed?’

  Gina hid her face in his coat. She was blushing deeply. ‘Don’t tease!’ she whispered. ‘Giles, I have not told you this before, but I have never been a wife in the true sense.’

  He looked down at her and his eyes were filled with tenderness. ‘I guessed as much, my dear one. You have never lost that look of innocence you had when I first met you.’

  ‘Then I did not deceive you?’

  ‘Never, Gina!’ His lips found hers in a lingering kiss, and Gina forgot the wasted years in an overwhelming sense of rapture. She threw her arms about his neck, murmuring inarticulate words.

  His heart beat strongly against her own and she revelled in the old familiar sensation of his closeness, his strength, and the delicious feeling of being protected from all harm.

  ‘I love you so,’ she whispered.

  ‘Then show me!’ he demanded as he nibbled gently at her ear.

  Gina threw all decorum to the winds as she cupped his face within her hands and drew it down to hers. She teased him then with feather-light caresses, tracing the curve of his eyebrows with her fingertips, dropping kisses upon his eyelids, and finally seeking his mouth.

  The strength of his response left her breathless, but she looked at him with perfect trust. ‘I want you, my love,’ she said. ‘When you make me your wife in truth, my happiness will be complete.’

  Giles kissed her again, and in that kiss there was the promise of a lifetime of devotion.

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-6142-9

  MR. RUSHFORD’S HONOR

  First North American Publication 2003

  Copyright © 2002 by Meg Alexander

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