"Thank you, my lord," Chloe responded gratefully. No one had been so sympathetic before. She sipped her tea and nibbled at her toast. "Will we be able to reach London today?"
"I believe so, despite last night's rain. You may not be home in time for dinner, but you will sleep in your own bed tonight." Chloe knew she had blushed at his last words. Casting a quick glance his way, she saw bright spots of color in his cheeks as well.
They departed the inn about ten, having waited for the warm sun to work its drying magic on the mud. Chloe found that her stomach did not protest at the motion of the curricle nearly as much as it had in the coach the day before, despite the lesser springing. Wilderlake offered the possibility that the fresh air was contributing to her well-being. "Sitting in a closed carriage on bad roads would be enough to upset anyone's digestion, I believe. My mother always keeps a window open when she travels."
They made fairly good time in spite of frequent patches of sticky mud, with no stops due to Chloe's stomach. His occasional observations about the other travelers they passed were amusing. Chloe had thought him a serious young man, but now she was seeing his puckish sense of humor. She decided that he was simply a quiet man, not given to idle chatter. Perhaps that is a good thing. If both partners in a marriage were inclined to chatter, they might drive one another to distraction.
One change of horses had been accomplished and they were going slowly through thick mud at the bottom of a swale when another curricle, bearing two men, approached them. It pulled to the side of the road to await their traverse of the muddy patch. As they drew nearer, something about the passenger caught Chloe's eye.
"Papa!" she cried. "It is my papa. Stop my lord. Oh, do stop!"
"Chloe!" her papa roared. "Wilderlake! You router! I'll kill you!"
Chloe threw herself from the curricle before it had stopped moving and ran forward. "No, Papa! Listen to me!"
Her father swung her aside. "Take care of her Farwell," he said over his shoulder. He advanced on Wilderlake, who was climbing from his curricle.
"Mr. Farwell, stop him!" Chloe cried. "He must not harm Lord Wilderlake. He saved my life." She ran forward and caught at her father's arm just as he drew it back to strike Wilderlake. "Papa! Papa, please, listen to me," she pleaded, hanging on his arm so he could not hit the younger man. "He did nothing wrong. You must not strike him!"
Her papa shook her clutching hands off. He swung at Wilderlake, who did nothing to defend himself as her papa's one fist smashed against his jaw just before the other one plowed into his midriff. He fell to the ground and lay still.
"Get up from there, you libertine, and fight like a man!" Papa demanded.
Wilderlake wiped blood from his lower lip. "No, sir, I will not. Your daughter came to no harm at my hands, and neither will you. I could not strike my future father-in-law."
Chloe rushed to his side and knelt beside him. She caught up the hem of her dress and tried to wipe the blood from his chin. "Papa, how could you strike him? I told you he saved my life."
"Ruined you, is more like it. Get up, pet, and get into Farwell's curricle. I am taking you to your mother."
"No, Papa. I will stay with poor Lord Wilderlake." She pushed him back as he attempted to rise. "Lie still, my lord. You are still bleeding." She looked again at her father's companion. What in the world? Mr. Farwell?
Papa opened his mouth to roar once again, but Mr. Farwell intervened. "Perhaps, sir, you should listen to their story. I cannot believe that Wilderlake is guilty of stealing your daughter away in the night."
He yawned into his lacy handkerchief. "How did he save your life, Miss Hazelbourne?"
Chloe, still patting at Wilderlake's chin, stammered out a disjointed version of her departure from home and the flight from London. "And when we were at the inn, Papa, Jeremy said he had changed his mind and no longer wished to marry me. He threatened to tell all Society of our adventure." She omitted a description of her sickness and the condition of Lord Everingham's clothing afterward.
Lord Wilderlake caught the hand that held the now bloodstained hem. "What your daughter did not tell you, my lord, was that she was revenged on him in advance." He told the part of the tale that Chloe, in her embarrassment, had omitted. "I could see no other remedy for the situation, sir, but to offer for her, and I did so. I hope you will entertain my suit, Lord Gifford, for I have every intention of marrying your daughter."
He raised Chloe's hand, still holding the hem of her gown, to his lips. "It was I, sir, who was in your daughter's company at the inn last night, not Everingham, for he had abandoned her. Therefore, it is I who must make the honorable amends."
Papa still looked more confused than comprehending. "Damme," he said at last. "I believe you are exceeding the demands of honor, young man. But there's no two ways about it. Chloe must be married, after last night. I'd not give her to Everingham, not after the way he treated her. Young ass. No, not you my lord. Here, let me help you up. Sorry I struck you, and all that. I was enraged."
"Understandably so, sir." Wilderlake stood, then helped Chloe to her feet. "Reggie, may I suggest that we turn your rig and get back on the road. Will you take Miss Hazelbourne up with you, so that her father and I might become better acquainted?"
"But I want to ride with you!"
He caught her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss upon her knuckles. "My dear, your father and I have much to discuss. Let us have this time to do so. We must come to an agreement on how to go on when we get back to Town."
"But--"
"No, do not protest. I will be right behind you with your father, and by the time we reach London, all will be arranged for our wedding tomorrow. If you become overset, you may again suffer from the motion of the curricle. Reggie is a good driver, and I will warn him to go gently." He led her to the other curricle and lifted her into it.
Chloe, rendered speechless by his continued solicitude, obeyed. He smiled at her before turning to Mr. Farwell. "Drive carefully, my friend. You carry a precious cargo."
"I think you mean that, Herne," Mr. Farwell replied in a voice quite unlike his usual mocking tone. "Well, well."
"So you have achieved your goal, Miss Hazelbourne," Mr. Farwell said when he had got his team moving. "Your methods were somewhat, ah, unusual, were they not? Are you sure that this is fair to Wilderlake?"
"He asked me, Mr. Farwell. I did not propose to him," she replied in a tone that might have frozen boiling water.
"After he had been put into a position that his honor required it. You would have been better served if you had married Everingham."
"How dare you!"
"Oh, we fops dare quite a lot, you know. I have seen your temper tantrums and your treatment of your sister. I have no illusions about you, Miss Hazelbourne. You will lead Wilderlake a merry dance. I am not sure I like it, for he is my friend."
"You have nothing to say about it."
"More the pity. I would not wish him to marry a spoiled brat with no thought in her head for anyone's wishes but her own. He is a fine man, honorable and decent, and he deserves better than you."
"You are despicable. I will not listen to your insults." She turned her back on him as well as she was able on the jouncing seat of the curricle.
"My dear Miss Hazelbourne, you will listen to whatever I have to say, for you are a captive audience. If you wish to have a happy marriage, let me give you some advice."
She covered her ears. "Be quiet. I will not hear you."
He was silent for a moment, then he spoke in a gentler voice. "Listen to me, Chloe Hazelbourne. I will tell you something that may save you coming to grief later."
She removed her hands from her ears, but continued to stare at the road ahead.
"Your sister told me that you are often willful, but not unkind nor uncaring until lately. Because she thinks well of you, I will give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you are not spoiled beyond redemption."
Chloe hunched her shoulder and tried
to resist the strong temptation to listen to whatever he had to say about the man she would marry.
"Lord Wilderlake--Herne Bradburn--is a gentleman of high principles. He will never mistreat you nor will he neglect your creature comforts. As long as you strive to be a conformable wife and do not disappoint him, he will treat you with the kindness and consideration you expect. But if you ever go beyond what his rather overdeveloped sense of propriety considers to be the bounds of good behavior, he will become icy cold and withdrawn. If he ever does withdraw from you, all will be lost. Herne has seen what extravagance, selfishness, and a care-for-naught attitude can do to the members of one's family. He will be completely unforgiving, should you show symptoms of any of these traits. He has spent the past ten years paying for his father's and grandfather's profligacy. He will not tolerate it in a wife."
Anger flared in her breast. I am not profligate. Yet she could not resist asking, "What do you mean, he has paid?"
"Have you never heard of Herne's father and grandfather?"
"No, I know nothing about his family."
Reggie told her how the third Viscount Wilderlake had gambled and caroused and dallied with ladies and women of the other sort until the ton had withdrawn from him in horror at his loose living, even in an age when such activities were more kindly looked upon. So great had been the third viscount's fortune that he had not been able to waste it all before he died.
The fourth viscount, Wilderlake's father, had married Herne's mother for her fortune. "Instead of taking her on a honeymoon, he took her to the remote castle in Cumbria and immured her there, remaining with her only long enough to father Herne."
Chloe forgot her pique in her fascination with Mr. Farwell's narrative.
"I believe Herne was scarcely a month of age when he returned to Town, thereafter ignoring his family. Had there not been a trust, settled on Herne by his mother's father, he would not have even been sent to school, so little care had his father of him.
"By the time Herne came down from university," Mr. Farwell continued, "his father had wasted his entire fortune and mortgaged the estate to the hilt. He died in a gutter in London, frozen to death after having apparently fallen there in a drunken stupor. Herne was left with a mortgaged estate and creditors snapping at his heels. He barely managed to convince the creditors not to foreclose. For ten years he has labored with only one goal in mind--to lift the mortgages and restore some of the family's former fortunes.
"He has, he tells me, some way to go before the estate is back in the condition that it was before his grandfather began wasting it. The whole experience has given him a detestation of selfishness and extravagance. He could forgive you anything but that, Miss Hazelbourne, so you would be well advised to tread very carefully."
Chloe said nothing for a while, thinking deeply. Finally she said. "I cannot forgive you for your earlier words, Mr. Farwell, but I do appreciate your advice. I do not wish to be unhappy. Lord Wilderlake has promised me that we shall spend part of each Season in London, so I will not be imprisoned in Castle Wilderlake like his mother was." She sighed, not yet entirely ready to relinquish her dreams, yet knowing they were lost to her forever. "But life will not be as I had dreamed.
"I slept little last night, and I thought much. I should have listened to Mama and Cousin Louisa more, and taken their advice. When Lord Everingham threatened to have his mother tell Society of my mistakes, I was convinced I had ruined my whole life.
"Lord Wilderlake is kind and thoughtful. I will try to be a good wife to him. I owe him so much. And I will be married, which is the important thing." She bounced a little on the seat. "Oh, Mr. Farwell, it will be so wonderful to be married, and not to have to wear only demure muslins and always be chaperoned and everything. I know I shall love it."
"Just remember what I have told you, Miss Hazelbourne. Herne will, I think, be a kind and indulgent husband, but you will have limits. He will not tolerate any improper behavior, nor will he accept horns."
"Oh, I would not do anything like that," she exclaimed, shocked. "How could any woman ever be unfaithful to her husband?"
"Some find it easy." There was none of the usual ennui in his tone.
"I never could. I may have chafed at the restrictions on unmarried girls, Mr. Farwell, but I am not immoral."
"Only selfish and willful."
"I suppose I am. And spoiled, too, my sister says. I've always hated to be told what I cannot do, and recently--since my Season was twice postponed--I have felt driven to go my own way, no matter the consequences."
"Herne will expect good behavior, but I doubt that he would ever reprimand you if you misbehave. His way is to withdraw and become cold."
"I could not bear that. Thank you Mr. Farwell. Perhaps you have just saved my marriage. I could not stand to be unhappy, you know."
"But you were willing to marry for a title and money, and without love."
"One does not need love to be happy," she said airily. "I have seen my Mama and Papa for long enough to know that a good marriage depends on more than two people being happy together. I thought I liked Lord Everingham. But I think I will be happier with Lord Wilderlake."
"I hope so."
* * * *
The conversation in the other curricle was more businesslike. Wilderlake informed Lord Gifford of his prospects and described the lengths to which he had gone to recoup the family fortunes. He confessed to being slightly short of funds at present, but said that his investments in woolen and cotton mills should start paying off in a year or two.
Lord Gifford expressed his satisfaction that Chloe would not be impoverished. He admitted to being extremely impressed with Wilderlake's business acumen. "By gad, sir. I may come to you the next time an investment opportunity presents itself." By the time the two curricles had reached London, Wilderlake and Lord Gifford had gone far toward becoming friends as well as prospective relatives and had, in general, agreed upon the terms of the marriage settlement.
They pulled up in front of the house off Grosvenor Square just behind Reggie's curricle. Phaedra burst from the front door as Wilderlake pulled his horses to a stop. Chloe tumbled from Reggie' curricle and the sisters embraced, laughing and crying together. Lady Gifford stood in the doorway, her expression apprehensive.
"We're home, Isabella," Lord Gifford called out. "And all's well. Edgemont, send someone to walk these horses." He climbed down as a footman ran from the house. "Here, Wilderlake, let the lad take the reins, and come in. Meet the rest of the family. You too, Farwell."
Reggie refused the invitation. "No sir, I think I would be better gone. You will want to speak en famille tonight. I will call in the morning, if I may."
"Hold, Reggie," called Wilderlake. He strode to the other's curricle. "You must stand up with me tomorrow, or whenever we get the arrangements made. Oh, God, and I still have to tell my mother. Look here. Could you go and get her? I would appreciate it no end. I do not want to leave Miss Hazelbourne to face her mother and sister without my support."
"Of course, Herne. And I will endeavor to tell her nothing except that you have asked for her. I'll leave it to you to break the news that she is to have a daughter-in-law."
"Tell her whatever you must to bring her here, old man."
"She will come. Would you doubt my ability to charm a lady into accepting me as her escort?"
Wilderlake laughed. "Never. And my mother has a tendre for you, you know." He reached out his hand and clasped Reggie's, aware of how much he owed his old friend. "Thank you, Reggie. I...thank you."
He stood there on the steps for a moment after Reggie departed. At last he squared his shoulders and went in to greet his soon-to-be relatives.
Chapter Fourteen
A mild hysteria took hold of all in the Hazelbourne household when Chloe was returned to them. Phaedra was too overcome with relief at having her sister safe to do more than ask again and again, "Chloe, are you sure you are quite all right?"
Mama uttered not a word of blame or re
buke. Everyone ignored Lord Wilderlake while the embraces and reassurances went on.
Finally Papa, with his usual roar, quieted everyone. "That's enough! Let the girl sit down and tell you her tale. Edgemont! Fetch the brandy."
When everyone was finally sorted out and seated in the parlor. Chloe was commanded to tell her story with no roundaboutation. She burst into tears. "I cannot. I am so ashamed. Oh, Mama, I was so wicked."
"Hush, Chloe," her mother told her. "George, she is too overset to tell us. What we really want to know if how you found her."
"With Wilderlake--"
Before he could finish his sentence, Phaedra exclaimed, "Oh, Lord Wilderlake, I had not thought it of you. For shame."
Before Wilderlake could say a word, Papa found his voice again. "Hell and damnation! Will you listen and stop interrupting, Phaedra? Wilderlake did not steal her away. He rescued her. 'Twas that idiot Everingham who took her."
"Papa, he did not take me," Chloe protested. "I took him. I mean, he took me in his coach, but I persuaded him to do so."
"Don't defend him, pet. He should have known better."
"Oh, he was terrible, Phaedra. He threatened to tell everyone that I am immoral. And to have his mother gossip about me."
"What did you do to make him say so?" Phaedra asked, knowing her sister's usual behavior in times of stress.
"Will you all be quiet!" Papa pounded on the table. "Wilderlake, perhaps you had better tell the tale. These women will be here all night with their hysterical nonsense."
In a few well chosen sentences, Wilderlake told of his rescue of Chloe and his intention to marry her. "As for Everingham, I saw him depart for a friend's home this morning. If Miss Hazelbourne wishes to tell you of her adventures with him, she may do so at a later time. Right now, I think it best that we speak of the wedding."
"We'll get a special license in the morning," Papa said. "Have it before luncheon. Best get it done quickly."
"But I have nothing to wear," Chloe wailed.
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