As soon as he dealt with Warmsby, who must be held accountable for Rosalind’s devilment, he would go to Ruisdell Palace. Undoubtedly, that is where they had gone. He would make the blasted duke release his sister-in-law into his care and keeping. A special license. Yes, I must procure a special license so we can be married immediately. We will go to the Continent for our honeymoon, and all of this scandal will blow over.
He knew he could find Warmsby at Boodle’s and changed his direction. Wrath at the man’s incompetence and the harm it had done surged inside him. He would make the beggar pay! Devil take it, he was going to challenge the man to a duel after all.
Buck found his quarry sitting in the window enclosure playing cards. Warmsby scowled up at Deal as he entered. Buck strolled over to him, inserted a hand under the man’s cravat and hauled him to his feet. The earl’s face was choleric.
“Curse you! Put me down! I am winning.”
“Your winning days are over. And your losing days, perhaps. You failed to keep your lightskirt’s mouth shut. I paid what you asked, and you were honor bound. On behalf of my fiancée, I demand satisfaction.”
Warmsby’s eyes bulged. “It wasn’t my fault!”
“We had an agreement. You may very well lose your life over it!” Letting the man back down, he said, “Have your seconds call on Westringham. He will act for me.”
He walked out of the club. That little errand discharged, he returned to White’s, where he requested Westringham’s assistance, left him gaping, and disappeared into the writing room.
Sitting at a large leather-inlaid desk, Buck availed himself of a quill and tried to calm his mind. He thought of Rosalind: her head clasped against his chest, his own head clasped in her hands, waltzing with her last evening, and the way she had appeared the first time he had seen her in the Ruisdell Palace Gardens.
The exercise did not have the effect he sought. Instead, he became even more agitated over the fact that she was gone from London, and he knew not for how long. Life was only bearable in the City as long as she graced it. Throwing himself out of the chair, he walked to the windows and glared down at St. James’s Street.
At sea, when things weighed on him, there was always some distraction, some matter that needed his attention—a fight that needed arbitrating, a strategy to be planned, his log to update, or a battle to be fought. Now there was nothing. Only this Warmsby to be settled. He would have to exercise caution so as only to wound him. He certainly did not want to be forced to disappear at the present time.
He must get Rosalind back. If she could not bring herself to come to London, or if the duke forbade her to, then he would gladly go to her. Life was insupportable otherwise.
Sitting once more at the desk, he managed to begin his letter. Once started, he found that the writing of it eased his agitation. It was well that he could at least do this.
My very dearest Rosalind,
How disappointed I was to see the Ruisdell carriage disappear down the street today. Did you not know that I am no hothouse flower? That I would stand by you in this unfortunate matter?
I will come to you at Ruisdell Palace as soon as I have settled the matter of the egregious Warmsby. One thing I cannot understand is how you could ever have entertained the attentions of such a very unappetizing rogue for an instant. That said, let me assure you that I will arrive with a special license and will be prepared to take you with me to the Continent for several months on a honeymoon.
We will not return until summer, when the Season shall be over. By the time it resumes next March, all gossip shall be safely dropped, do you not think so? Even if it is not entirely forgotten, you will be my wife, and I will stand by you.
This place is a desert without you to pull caps with. You are first in my heart, and believe me, you will dwell there always. You must know that you cannot so easily be rid of me, my dear.
With my love,
Buck
* * *
Westringham came to him that night in his rooms.
“You left so quickly this afternoon, you gave me no time to protest your actions. As your second and as your friend, I must beg you to reconsider this. Do you not realize that by dueling with Warmsby, you will only make the scandal worse?”
“I’ve never liked the cut of his jib, Clark. The longer he is around, the more chance he will have to make trouble.”
“But this is London Society, Captain. Not the deck of a ship. We are not in the midst of battle. You cannot kill a man with impunity as though he were an enemy sailor! Duelling is against the law. You could be hanged! Think! How would that help Miss Edwards’ situation?”
Buck stood and paced the sitting room, wishing he were on the deck of his ship. His lieutenant was right. The devil take Warmsby! The devil take the ton.
“I shall delope,” he said.
“Much better let me call the whole thing off,” Westringham said.
“Warmsby needs a scare. I mean to see him out of the country.”
“How do you know he won’t kill you?”
“I’m deuced hard to kill.”
“And that hard-headed!”
“Warmsby sent around the name of his second.” Buck tossed a card to his lieutenant. “It’s written on the back of his card. Meet with him and let me know what details you work out.”
{ 22 }
THE DRIVE TO CORNWALL WAS A LONG ONE, necessitating several stops for the night. Fanny conversed little. Her anger had faded only slightly. She spent her thoughts on images of Buck, imagining, with little trouble, sailing away with him from this wretched island.
Her sister offered her a book, Miss Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. Fanny had enjoyed Pride and Prejudice and thought that perhaps this book would offer her some escape from her anger and the closed carriage. However, once she started reading it, her fury resurfaced.
“Have you read this?” she asked Elise.
“Some of it.”
“And you thought it would be instructional for me, no doubt.”
“What do you mean?”
“Two sisters. One wise and one foolish?”
“I . . . uh . . . that is, I did not think . . .”
“No. You did not think.” She handed the book over. “You may have it back.”
“Fanny . . .”
“Just take it, please. We do not need to discuss it.”
“What is this?” asked Ruisdell.
Neither woman answered him.
“Elise?”
“It is only a small matter, dear. Nothing for you to fuss about.”
“Hmph.” He threw Fanny a hostile look.
Suddenly, it was all too much, and the dam broke.
“I know I owe a great deal to the two of you giving me a home and for sponsoring my come out. You think you are doing me a great favor by saving my reputation. But have you considered what you have asked me to give up? Do you think my love for the marquis to be in any way less than the love you had for each other when you were courting?”
Elise and the Duke looked at one another. Her sister put the tips of her fingers against her lips. “Love?”
The Duke said, “You think we are robbing you of your future? You think your behavior will not repulse Deal?”
“I know it did not. Furthermore, whatever he said to you on the day we became engaged is no longer so. He returns my regard in every way. And he knows, no one better, how reckless I am. It does not matter to him.”
When the two appeared stricken by her pronouncement, Fanny continued, “I came away, not to save my reputation, but for the sake of Elise and Sophie. I am not an infant to be soothed into good humor by the promise of a treat. I am a grown woman. And I am going to marry the Marquis of Deal.”
“Grown ladies of the ton do not act as you do, Fanny,” the duke said, his tone measured.
“Have you not been listening? That may matter to you. Of course it does. And I am sorry for you that I have trespassed beyond the ton’s shibboleths. But that behavior is of no cons
equence where my fiancé is concerned. You must trust me in this.”
“If he loves you, his lordship will be very angry with us for spiriting you away,” Elise said.
“You are right,” Fanny said. “Now, if you will stop the carriage, I should like to take a short walk. The atmosphere in here has been strained for two days. I should like some relief, even if it is just for a few minutes.”
The walk soothed her only for a short while. The exercise and the argument had exhausted her, and Fanny nodded off and soon began to dream. She was hiding in the blackness of a wardrobe, smelling camphor and hearing her mother rant, full of rage at the servants. She wanted to know where Fanny was. It was time to go calling on the neighbors. Time for her daughter to show off her new gown so that everyone would realize what a beauty she was and what a fine mother she had. Fanny wondered again that her mother could explode over such a simple thing as this.
Something hard inside Fanny refused to lend herself to this deception once more. She would no longer be a pawn in her mother’s game to elevate her status in the neighborhood. When they went into the neighbor’s house, Fanny released hundreds of mice from under her skirts and they ran around Lady Hatfield’s best sitting room. Everyone stood on the furniture and screamed.
She woke up feeling like a naughty child again.
Her mother had married the twins, Harriet and Juliet years ago, to a pair of viscounts, and Elise had married a duke. Lady Hatchet had succeeded. Now it was Fanny’s turn. Except she had, in truth, hidden in a wardrobe rather than be used as a tool in her mother’s social climbing.
Eventually, she had had to come out, but she waited until bedtime when her parents had gone to dinner at a neighbor’s house. She was to have attended that function, as well. Fanny had gone to her room, removed the ostentatious new gown from her wardrobe, and burned it in the kitchen stove.
Of course, such deeds did not go unpunished. Like Elise, she had her scars, both mental and physical. And now Elise was whisking her away from London so society could not punish her.
Elise loves me. She is only trying to protect me.
Sadness settled on Fanny. If I am not careful, I will make trouble for Elise with the duke. She does not deserve that.
* * *
The Duke and Duchess of Beverley were thrilled to receive the Ruisdells and Fanny, even without notice. Fanny knew that Elise gave the duchess some explanation, but had no idea what it was. She went straight up to her allotted bedroom. It was known as the Daffodil Room, with its namesake’s blossoms covering the wallpaper. The furniture was upholstered in shades of yellow, but the cheerfulness only served to make Fanny glum.
It was as though everyone was saying, “Chin up. You are a lucky girl. Count your blessings.”
She hoped that Buck would arrive soon. For some reason, she felt uneasy, almost as though that were too much to hope for.
{ 23 }
WHEN BUCK RETURNED TO HIS LODGINGS, he was vastly relieved to find Rosalind’s note. Cornwall! It was a good job that he had not yet set out for Derbyshire. As soon as the duel was played out, he would leave at once. It would not be a good thing for Rosalind and the Ruisdells to know that he had challenged Warmsby.
Buck was rescued from the prison of his own thoughts by Westringham, who called on him at his lodgings and bore him off to White’s for dinner.
As they walked, the lieutenant said, “I have worked out the details of this cursed duel with Warmsby’s second. He’s a weasel, to be sure. A little dab of a man who won’t look you in the eye. One can just see him scurrying about after one’s chickens.”
“You have become imaginative, Clark. I never expected it.”
“Everything about this duel makes me uneasy.”
“Well! Give me the details.”
“It is to be the day after tomorrow. Hounslow Heath. Dawn. Pistols.”
“Good. The sooner, the better.”
Reaching the club, they entered the crowded dining room with its customary atmosphere of cigar smoke, laughter, and the tantalizing smell of sizzling lamb chops. Buck ordered two whiskies and dinner for two.
His lieutenant leaned back in his chair, and Buck felt that he was under observation. “I don’t blame you,” Westringham said.
“That is good to know. For what am I absolved of blame?”
“Falling in love with Miss Edwards.”
Buck squirmed uncomfortably as a waiter placed two fingers of whisky in a tumbler before him.
“I never thought I’d see the day you’d fall for a virtuous woman. And I certainly did not think you’d marry,” his friend continued.
“Neither did I, to be truthful.”
“She’s an extraordinary woman, however, so I guess that explains it.”
“Yes. She is. And I am aware that you had some interest there. Believe me, again, I am sorry for any pain I may have caused you.”
“I have some doubts as to whether I could have kept up with the woman.”
“Yes, Rosalind is what is called a handful. Her sister has whisked her out of town, you know, in the wake of this scandal.”
“Did she really audition at Covent Garden?”
“She did not, and I wish you would do all in your power to put that about. Tell Somerset. Ruisdell tells me he’s the biggest gossip in London.”
“It was at his ball I met Miss Edwards.”
“Yes. He is the duke’s closest friend. He ought to be of some help in scotching this rumor.”
“I’m afraid it has gone too far, Captain. She’s beautiful and well-connected. You just announced your engagement. You are a well-known war hero. It is a situation made for scandal. That’s why I don’t welcome this duel. It will magnify the entire thing a hundredfold if it gets out.”
“I want Warmsby’s head on a platter.” Buck sawed the air, imagining it was Warmsby’s neck.
“Then what will you do?”
“Go after Rosalind and marry her out of hand. Tomorrow I will buy a special license. I don’t care what the ton has to say, and it makes me angry to see her quelled by it. She was right the other night at the rout. It is a fiefdom. And its gossips are afraid of anyone who breaks the rules. They fear chaos. Their world is built on the backs of the poor. Anything that smacks of ‘commonness’ lessens that divide. It must be strictly maintained so that the poor stay poor and the rich stay rich. Why do you think those people in trade who aspire to a social position are so frowned on?”
“Because if they are accepted, they will show that the divide can be spanned,” Westringham said in a low voice. “I say, Captain, remember this is a Tory club. Perhaps you ought to join Brookes.”
“Even Whigs are too tame for Rosalind. She wants me to be a Radical.”
“I say!”
After dinner, Westringham tried to interest Buck in attending the theater with him.
“That’s the last place I want to go. I’ll just relax in the reading room and blow a cloud. Have some brandy.”
They said their good-byes, and Buck went to read the newspapers. He found them dull, and his mind strayed to Rosalind once more. He could not wait to hold her again, but worried that Ruisdell would be against the match. He needed dealing with. Rosalind was now Buck’s responsibility. Why had the little ninnyhammer allowed the duke to make off with her?
He decided to walk home, as it was a mild night. Dwelling on Rosalind’s more loveable features, he was in a dream world when he heard the quick footsteps approaching behind him. Jerking himself into the present, he unsheathed his sword from the walking stick that concealed it and spun around, just as his attacker raised his cudgel. Buck rapped the creature on the forearm with the side of his sword, causing him to drop the weapon.
He held the man with the sword point under his chin. “Who sent you?”
The heavily built man was uncommonly quick. Spinning himself free, he took off running. Buck followed, but the brandy he had drunk slowed him, and the man was soon lost to the night. However, he had no doubts that his combatant
had been sent by Warmsby to dispatch him before the duel could take place.
{ 24 }
FANNY FELT LIKE AN UNWANTED GUEST at dinner and afterward, when the two ducal pairs laughed and reminisced. She was definitely the odd person out. However, being in low spirits, she did not actually mind not having to speak. She liked Caro and Ned a great deal. They were a more demonstratively loving couple than Elise and Peter, possibly because they lived quietly in Cornwall and cared little for society, where it was considered bad taste to “live in each other’s pocket.” Naturally, that endeared them to Fanny. The knowledge that under the table, Beverley’s hand resided on his wife’s knee almost made her giggle.
Then, unexpectedly, she was invited to join the conversation when the men fell to discussing boxing. Caro turned to her and said, “I understand that you are an actress!” She had all the appearance of being in alt. “I think I must have prayed you here. I am in desperate need.”
“Elise told me you are doing amateur theatricals to raise money for your orphanage. How may I help you?”
“I would love your opinion on my newest play. I have written primarily for children in the past. This one is by way of being a farce. A School For Scandal type of thing.”
Fanny perked up. “Oh, that is just the sort of thing I love. I will be happy to read it for you. But I am no critic, you know.”
“Your sister says you know most of Shakespeare by heart. I should think you would make the very best critic.”
Rescuing Rosalind (Three Original Ladies and Their Gentlemen) Page 12