by Gayle Buck
“What?” Captain Daggett stared at his former friend. “Oh, as to that I hardly think it matters. Shall we say pistols, Mr. Olive?” And he laughed again. Mr. Olive bowed and hastily took leave of what he considered a deranged man. Captain Daggett toasted his exit with raised wineglass. “To you, Mr. Olive, and to all in this provincial neighborhood! Good riddance to every one of the idiot bumpkins.” He stood while he finished off the bottle of brandy. Then he quite calmly packed his valise and waited for the black of night.
In the small hours of the morning a slight figure stealthily emerged from the inn and made for the stables. Shortly thereafter a rider cantered out of the inn yard and turned his mount away from the village.
* * *
Chapter 23
“Quite, quite shocking. And to think that the assignation took place in this very church! It is unthinkable!”
The caretaker was disturbed by the conversation that he overheard. He approached Mrs. Averidge and her guest. Twisting his cap between his fingers, he said, “Begging yer pardon, m’ladies, but that ain’t the way it happened.”
The ladies looked at him, surprised. “What do you mean, Jacob?” asked Mrs. Averidge.
“I was not ten feet from the miss when it happened. Miss Wainwright had brought flowers for the church. She was getting into her gig when the captain fellow rode up. He put his great bloody paws on her and tried to steal a kiss off her,” said the caretaker.
Both ladies gasped sharply, their horrified eyes riveted on his face. “ ‘Tis the truth I be telling you,” said the caretaker. “Miss Wainwright hit the fellow such a blow that he dropped her quick-like. Then she told him to be off or she would thrash him with her whip. An’ I believed her, too, for there was such a look in her eyes! The scoundrel threatened Miss Wainwright would regret what she done. Then he hauled his nag around and left in a fury. It was then I asked the miss if she were all right. Miss Wainwright was feeling peaked, I could see. But she spoke very composed and drove off for Willowswood.”
Mrs. Averidge drew a breath. “Thank you, Jacob. What you have related is most enlightening,” she said quietly. The caretaker bobbed his head and shuffled away. Mrs. Averidge and her guest looked at one another. “I am distressed, Amelia. That young woman has been subjected to a gross injustice. I feel it acutely that I did not pay more heed to Mrs. Townsend’s testimony on her cousin’s behalf,” said Mrs. Averidge.
“It was not you alone who persecuted the young woman. Why, I cut her direct on the main street of the village!” exclaimed Mrs. Heatherton. “I should like to have my hands on Captain Daggett for just one moment. Why should he wish to destroy a lady’s reputation in such a despicable fashion?”
Mrs. Averidge shook her head. “I fear it must have been vanity, my dear. Pride goeth before a fall, you know, and undoubtedly Captain Daggett was treated to a fall by the redoubtable Miss Wainwright.”
“Indeed! I quite sink to recall how I have treated Miss Wainwright this fortnight. We must make amends, Mildred, and the first step is to inform our husbands and friends of the true tale,” said Mrs. Heatherton, drawing on her gloves.
“It does not reflect well on Captain Daggett,” said Mrs. Averidge.
Mrs. Heatherton’s eyes were surprisingly hard. “How little I care for that! I do not appreciate being played for a fool, and that is certainly what Captain Daggett has done to us all. Believe me, he shall rue the day that he ever set foot in this district.”
* * * *
In the company of her maid, Miss Burton paid a call on Mr. Willoughby. She was shown out to the gardens by a wondering footman. Her maid walked away a few discreet steps and bent to sniff at the roses, which were in riotous bloom. Mr. Willoughby brushed the leaves from a stone bench and Miss Burton seated herself with a quiet word of thanks.
She was pensive and stared out over the quiet garden. The strong perfume of the roses hung on the air, recalling to her mind a certain night that she would prefer to forget forever. Miss Burton listened to the bees buzzing and the soft cooing of doves and found that the tranquil sounds did much to steady her nerves.
Mr. Willoughby waited patiently. At last he was rewarded when Miss Burton turned her gaze on him. She said, “Mr. Willoughby, I have thought long on your proposal. Before I give you an answer, I wish to relate to you something that happened very early this morning. I was in my bed when I was awakened by a rain of pebbles on my window. Curious, I arose and opened the casement. You may imagine my astonishment upon seeing Captain Daggett on the lawn below. I was further amazed when Captain Daggett expressed himself to me in quite passionate terms and pressed me to fly with him that very moment.” She glanced at Mr. Willoughby to gauge his reaction. There was a tightness about his mouth, but otherwise he gave no indication of his feelings. Miss Burton said with the flicker of a smile, “I must confess that I was very rude to the gentleman. I threw my water pitcher down and he staggered off with a cracked head.”
Mr. Willoughby’s mouth quivered. “Indeed, Miss Burton. A worthy shot, surely.”
Miss Burton dropped her eyes to gaze at her hands, which were at rest in her lap. “I wished you to know particularly so that you may better judge what I have next to say.” She raised her head. Mr. Willoughby was surprised to observe a blush in the redoubtable beauty’s soft cheeks. Miss Burton said steadily, “I have a strong partiality for roses, Mr. Willoughby. And I find that I am willing to learn an appreciation for doves.”
Mr. Willoughby felt as though he could not quite catch his wind. He was surprised to discover that her answer had been so important to him. He raised one of Miss Burton’s hands to his lips. “You have honored me more than I can say, Miss Burton. I assure you that you will come to love roses and doves as much as I do myself.”
“Angus, I believe that we may be a little less formal on this occasion,” said Miss Burton softly.
Mr. Willoughby reddened. Casting a glance after Miss Burton’s maid, he was reassured to see that the woman had continued down the path out of sight. He lowered his head to meet Miss Burton’s waiting lips.
* * * *
When it was learned that Captain Daggett had abandoned the inn in the dead of night, leaving his bill unpaid, it created a sensation. The fact that the naval officer had fled rather than face Viscount Wythe in a duel branded him a coward and plunged his name into final and irrevocable disrepute. Those who had idolized him were furious with themselves and spoke the most bitterly of him. Those who had never liked the man had the satisfaction of being proven correct concerning his character.
Bertram Burton in particular crowed that he had known all along how it would be. “I observed many times that one could not trust a fellow who sat a horse as badly as Daggett did,” he said. He could not wait to relate the news to his sister. Mary Alice would have to rethink her idiotic infatuation with the bounder, he thought complacently. But it was Bertram who received the shock of his life, when his sister calmly informed him that she had accepted an offer. “Angus Willoughby! But how—” Bertram recovered himself and enthusiastically embraced his sister. “I couldn’t have chosen a better man for you, Mary Alice. When did you say the wedding is to be?”
Mrs. Averidge and Mrs. Heatherton lost no time in spreading what they had heard from Jacob the caretaker and Captain Daggett was at last seen in his full colors as an absolute scoundrel. Miss Wainwright garnered much sympathy and many sheepish apologies, which she was very gracious in receiving.
It had not gone unnoted that Viscount Wythe had been prepared to defend her honor to the death.
His championship refueled once-dead conjectures that he and Miss Wainwright were more friendly than cousins should be. But in light of the debacle over Captain Daggett, most were unwilling to pry any closer. However, there were always the diehard gossips who could not resist putting their heads together. “But really, Viscount Wythe and Miss Wainwright are not related at all. It would be extraordinary if she did not set her cap for his lordship. I would certainly do so were I in her shoes,” d
eclared one lady.
“So should I. But living in the same house like they are, it is scandalous to think of it. They were virtually unchaperoned for weeks while Mrs. Townsend was ill. Do you think…”
The thought was left unspoken but speaking looks were passed. Thus slowly grew a fresh rumor coupling Miss Wainwright and Viscount Wythe. There was not a malicious tone to the gossip, not after the unfortunate affair with Captain Daggett. The general feeling was that Miss Wainwright deserved some happiness, though opinion differed whether living in Viscount Wythe’s pocket was the proper course for her to pursue. There was no question of impropriety, of course, what with Mrs. Townsend up and about and a new household staff in place. However, what had gone before was quite a different matter. The conclusive opinion of the good ladies and their gentlemen was that Lord Townsend ought to do the proper thing by Miss Wainwright and marry her.
Lord Townsend was the first to become aware of the new gossip. He had been waiting to hear just such rumors, having realized almost from the moment of leaving the inn after issuing his challenge to Captain Daggett that he had exposed himself and Miss Wainwright to that sort of speculation. But he did not regret his actions in the slightest. His rage in learning Miss Wainwright had been pilloried in such an infamous manner had known no bounds. If Daggett had appeared on the field of honor, the viscount thought that he would have had no compunction in blowing a neat hole straight through the blackguard’s heart. Instead, Captain Daggett had chosen to run like a rat in the night, convincing all in the neighborhood of his guilt and Miss Wainwright’s innocence. That suited Lord Townsend perfectly. He had only to deal with the fresh gossip and all would be made comfortable.
Lord Townsend had long since realized that his feelings for Miss Wainwright were strong. In fact, he had come to care for her more than he had thought possible. He wanted to care for her as she deserved, and shield her from the capricious winds of society.
Most of all, he wanted to share his days and his nights with her. He could not recall a single moment in her company that was other than stimulating. Her quick wit and tongue, her silvery laugh when she was amused, the teasing light in her eyes, had all gone far to bind him to her. The fact that she was also beautiful merely capped her perfections as he perceived them.
Lord Townsend had come to the decision that he wanted to marry Miss Wainwright before the gossip linking their names arose. The talk merely braced his determination. He thought that if for no other reason he would offer for Miss Wainwright to protect her from further distress. With that thought in mind he requested a private interview with Miranda.
Miranda wondered at Lord Townsend’s serious demeanor when she entered the drawing room. She paused at the door and looked across the room at him. He stood at the mantel, one arm laid along its edge, and the expression on his face was pensive. He met her gaze and his countenance was lightened by the sudden spark of warmth in his brown eyes. Miranda moved to seat herself on the settee, remarking, “You are very sober today, my lord.”
Lord Townsend removed his arm from the mantel, turning his back on the fireplace. “Am I? Perhaps I seem so because of my thoughts. I have come to a momentous decision, Miss Wainwright, one that concerns yourself.”
Miranda’s heart beat a little faster. She could not imagine what Lord Townsend was talking about, but nevertheless she instinctively felt a sense of anticipation. “Yes, my lord?”
“Miss Wainwright, I have come to appreciate your strength of character. I learned early a high regard for you, and my opinion has only been strengthened through the experiences we have shared. I think now is a most appropriate time to declare myself.” Lord Townsend came over to sit beside her on the settee. He raised one of her hands to his lips in a brief salute and, retaining her fingers in a light clasp, said, “Miranda, I wish for you to become my wife.”
Miranda sat quite still. She could not believe that he had declared himself. She had known herself to be in love with him for some time, but she had not actually seen much sign that he returned her feelings. At turns he had been both impersonal and tender. She did not know how to take his proposal. She did know, however, that she could not marry him if he did not love her. Once before she had made that mistake and it had been a bitter, disastrous affair. “My lord, why do you offer for me?” asked Miranda quietly.
Lord Townsend was taken aback. He had expected quite a different response. “It is as I have told you, Miranda. I have come to hold you in high regard,” he said, puzzled.
“Yes, you mentioned my strength of character,” said Miranda, nodding. “But is there any other reason?”
Lord Townsend shrugged, somewhat at a loss. “Well, I must admit I have been made to realize how vulnerable you have been to gossip, not only in connection with that blackguard Daggett, but to myself as well. I very much want to spare you any future distress of that sort, Miranda.”
Miranda felt her throat tighten. She also had heard the gossip concerning herself and the viscount. It had been told to her by three kind ladies, who took it upon themselves to assure her that it would naturally be quite a feather in her cap if she were to become affianced to Viscount Wythe. Miranda had brushed aside the ladies’ speculative glances with a laugh. After the trouble over Captain Daggett she had believed herself immune to the bad effects of any further gossip.
But now she was not so certain. Lord Townsend had just proposed to her out of chivalry, to spare her what he so obviously perceived as the ignominious effects of this most recent rumor. The gossips had hinted strongly that they thought the viscount ought to offer for her. Now he had done so, no doubt influenced by what was being said in the district. Miranda would have given her soul if Lord Townsend had only come to her with his heart instead of his sense of honor.
She rose from the settee and walked a few steps away. Her head bent, her hands clasped tightly before her, she said, “I naturally thank you for the honor, my lord. But I cannot accept your offer.”
Lord Townsend could not believe his ears. It had never occurred to him that she might reject his suit. He stood up quickly. “Miranda! I do not understand. After what we have experienced together, what we have meant to one another!” His hands descended onto her shoulders.
Miranda turned quickly at his touch. His words released a well-spring of emotion in her. She stared up at him with sparkling eyes, but whether from anger or from tears he did not know. “I asked you not to refer to that regrettable incident, my lord!”
Lord Townsend’s face registered open astonishment. For a moment he did not understand what she was referring to, since he had been thinking of the entire span of their relationship over the past months. But as he absorbed her meaning, his features set in grim lines. His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Regrettable? Is that how you recall it, Miranda? It is passing strange that I do not share that opinion.”
Miranda turned her face away. “Pray let me go, Andrew. It will not do either of us a service to continue this discussion.” She did not struggle, but merely waited.
Lord Townsend was infuriated by her passivity. Instead of releasing her, he shook her forcefully. “Now listen to me, my girl! I’ll not allow you to refuse me because of some misguided, missish notion that you have taken into your head. I do not make such a decision lightly. I have made an honorable offer for your hand and by God you’ll accept me.”
Miranda was at last made angry. “How dare you dictate to me, Andrew Townsend! Are you so arrogant that you cannot accept anyone’s daring to refuse Viscount Wythe? I think I know what is in my best interests, and it is certainly not marriage to you, or to anyone else at the moment. I have a mind and heart of my own.”
Lord Townsend stared down at her. There was an arrested, angry look in his eyes. “What was that you said? A heart of your own? Does that mean you care nothing for me, Miranda? Is that why you refuse my suit?”
Miranda seized on the excuse. She tossed her head. “Why should you be so surprised, my lord? I do not consider duty or gossip or past fo
llies reason enough to entertain the thought of wedlock. I cannot imagine why you should.”
Lord Townsend released her suddenly. His eyes were hard, but were shadowed with some emotion that Miranda could not fathom. “I understand you, I think. Forgive me, Miss Wainwright. It was not my intention to trespass upon your independent spirit. It quite slipped my mind that you are not English-born and might be expected to view certain matters in a different light.”
The reasons given by the viscount in offering for her hand and her previous disastrous experience with romance whirled chaotically through Miranda’s mind. “Indeed, sir! I do not know how it is with your English ladies, but I certainly would not enter into a contract of marriage without those feelings of affection necessary for a comfortable existence between the parties. As I have cause to know, a high regard for one another is not sufficient,” retorted Miranda.
Already horribly wounded that she had so baldly stated that she cared not at all for him, Lord Townsend positively pounced on her last words. “Are you admitting that Daggett’s allusions to a secret marriage had truth?”
Miranda laughed scornfully. “Of course not! But I was once engaged to a worthy sort of man whom I held in respect. I discovered that my respect for him did not fill the differences between us. I cried off, my lord, and braved the censure of the world.”
“Upon my word.” Lord Townsend stared at her. He shook himself free of the astonishment and disillusion that pervaded his thoughts and straightened his shoulders. His voice was cold. “Perhaps I am well out of it, then. You appear to invite scandal of the worst kind.”
Miranda was cut to the quick by the distant expression of disapproval in his eyes. “It is the price a woman must pay to exercise independence of thought and feeling, sir!”