The carriage will be at the end of the road at midnight, bring only that which is necessary. Whatever other requirements you shall have, will be purchased later.
Until then,
Your devoted servant,
W
She read and re-read the missive and could not help but draw comparisons. Should Dominic have been the author and not Lord Wroxham, what different emotions would be surging through her breast, adding joy to her heart; but he was not. It only increased her pain to contemplate this; therefore she must put such thoughts aside. She had chosen her course and must now channel her attentions in a different direction.
*****
Supper at Blake House that evening was a very gay affair. Regina and Lord Bannington being the center of attention with several toasts being drunk in their honor, none noticed that Sophie was somewhat subdued, her face drawn. Even Isabella had been allowed to join in the celebrations with a glass of wine. The duke, appearing in an expansive mood and being well pleased with his eldest daughter’s projected match, presided over the whole in a most magnanimous manner. Sophie secretly thought that she had never seen him appear so genial. Her resolve almost broke under the weight of her thoughts and she found it difficult to contemplate that in so short a time she was to leave this happy family, who had so readily embraced her with an unparalleled kindness. Mentally taking herself to task for her sentiments, she raised her glass once again to toast the happy couple, barely touching it with her lips.
As the evening wore on, Sophie became more and more anxious that she would be prevented from meeting Lord Wroxham, as none seemed inclined to bring the celebrations to an end. However, just as it lacked fifteen minutes to midnight, Lord Bannington stated his intention of quitting for the night, informing the duke that he had an early start in the morning, as he was to attend a sitting at The House. As everyone gathered in the hall to witness his leaving, Sophie slipped quietly away to her apartment, none noticing her going. Here, with the aid of her maid, she hastily changed from her evening gown into her breeches. She gave the letter for the duchess to her maid and cautioned her not to present it until as late into the next day as possible, therefore allowing her sufficient time to be away from London.
Sweeping her hair up under her tricorn, she took up the small cloak bag which held a change of clothes and the few essentials she required, and checking that the corridor was empty, left her apartment.
Chapter Sixteen
Using the back staircase, Sophie made her way down to the servants’ quarters at the rear of the house, knowing that the staff would be either abed or employed in clearing away all signs of the celebrations in the rooms above. Clutching the bag under her arm, she quietly opened the outside door and slipped through into the rear garden. Creeping around the side of the house, she kept well in the shadows before stepping warily into the deserted street.
At first, she did not immediately perceive the carriage, but as she approached the end of the roadway, she saw Lord Wroxham pacing impatiently beside the vehicle, taking out his pocket watch to check the time. As she approached, she saw that he did not recognize her and instead looked frowningly past her toward Blake House, sighing heavily in his impatience to be away.
“John, ‘tis I,” she called as quietly as she could. “Am I late?”
“My God, you come as a boy?” his lordship expostulated, hastily taking the bag from her and assisting her into the coach.
“I thought it would cause less comment if you were seen traveling with a boy,” she said, sitting back against the squabs.
“My dear, this is totally unnecessary,” he replied, taking the seat opposite and giving the order for the coach to be on its way. “Think of the impropriety.”
“I do not see the impropriety,” she replied rebelliously. “None but you will be aware that I am a girl. Dominic...”
“I will not hear Vale’s opinion on the matter,” he snapped. “It is of no consequence at this moment. Do you have a gown?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must change at the first opportunity. I will not travel with you as a boy, it offends my sensibilities.”
“It seems, sir, that we are not well suited,” she said haughtily. “If we are to quarrel over a mere matter of dress, then I can see that we will not do at all. Let me down, I will make my own arrangements.”
“Come, my love, be calm,” he said cajolingly, coming to sit beside her and attempting to read her countenance in the shadows. “You shall wear whatever you desire, though I must own to being decidedly uncomfortable with you in that garb.”
“I will change when necessary,” she replied defiantly, determined to retain her breeches, feeling more secure in their wearing.
Slightly disillusioned with his love, Lord Wroxham deemed it prudent to remain silent on the subject of attire, reasoning that when she became his wife, she would be compelled to conform to his ruling on the matter. Perceiving her attitude toward the wearing of such unsuitable garments as Vale’s influence on her, he determined that once they were married he would soon rectify the situation.
Silence reigned. There was nothing lover-like in this elopement, Sophie seeing it merely as flight, whilst Lord Wroxham, apprehensive of his friend’s discovery of his deed, wished nothing more than to get the ceremony over as soon as possible.
*****
“I tell you, Marcel, she has not even slept in her bed,” cried the duchess, standing in the library of Blake House and informing her husband of the discovery of Sophie’s absence. “I know not where the child could have gone.”
“What new folly is this?” exclaimed the duke, forsaking his desk to go to his wife. “Where could she be? Was anyone made aware of her going?”
“I only knew of her absence when she did not come down to breakfast,” replied the duchess. “I thought perhaps she was unwell and sent Isabella to see if she needed anything, but she was not in her room. We have looked everywhere for her but to no avail. I know not what to do.”
“Fetch her maid,” commanded the duke. “She must be aware of her mistress’s actions. Surely she must have some information as to where she may be. I cannot believe that she could have disappeared so easily.”
The maid came hesitantly into the room and dropped a slight curtsey to their graces. “Come now girl,” demanded the duke. “Do you know ought of your mistress’s disappearance, has she confided in you? Speak now for we must know her whereabouts.”
The maid reddened and appeared flustered and taking the missive from her pocket presented it to the duchess. “I have but just found this addressed to your grace,” she lied valiantly. “It had slipped to the floor and escaped my notice.”
Taking the note eagerly from her hands the duchess broke open the wafer and scanned the page. “Oh, Marcel, the child begs our forgiveness and thanks us for our kindness,” she cried, tears coming to her eyes. “She says she can no longer trespass on our generosity.”
“What foolishness is this?” interpolated the duke hotly. “I had thought her to have made her home with us. Was she not happy?”
“I cannot believe it,” cried the duchess with much feeling as she read further. “She is to marry Wroxham. She has eloped with him, though I know she does not love him. If only Dominic were here...”
“What the deuce has it to do with him?” queried the duke forcefully.
“The child loves him not Wroxham—there is something terribly wrong here. Why should she elope with one when she is in love with the other?”
“There is no need for her to elope with either,” stated the duke, “though I ought to have known Dominic would feature somewhere in this. Wherever there is a problem, he is always at the root of it. Well, if he is the one she wants, he is the one she shall have! He will not evade the issue a second time. Have the carriage prepared. I will put a stop to this elopement. It may still be possible to overtake them and restore Sophie to her home.”
“Then I’ll come with you Marcel,” declared the duchess. “Should you be
in time to stop the marriage, she will be in need of female company.”
“Then hurry in your preparations, my love,” said the duke, “for we must leave here within the hour if we are to have any chance of forestalling the marriage.”
*****
“Drummond had the right of it,” stated Fitzwilliam feeling his jaw as they left Rimmington’s Barn in his lordship’s curricle. “You do have the most punishing left, Vale; by Gad but you do. It is as well that he wasn’t present to see how well you thrashed me. It would have done my credibility no good at all.”
“You presented a few good blows yourself,” laughed Vale. “I have the evidence. We must repeat the match when back in London.”
“It’s as well that Drummond was obliged to go into Kennington and missed the outing,” said Fitzwilliam, grinning, “though my bruises will bear witness to my defeat, they will not be hidden.”
Vale slanted him a look, wincing at the bruise that was fast forming on his friend’s jaw where his final jab had bought about the conclusion of their match. “Look on them as proof of your courage,” he said. “It certainly was a good outing and must be repeated. It was no easy victory on my part. You are a very worthy adversary.”
A fact which Vale thought necessary to repeat to Drummond upon his return from Kennington, whilst the three friends sat over supper. Once the meal was over they retired to the taproom intent on playing cards before retiring; all appearing in exceedingly good spirits.
“By-the-bye, saw a friend of yours changing horses at The Bull this morning,” stated Drummond, dealing the cards for a game of Faro. “Looked to be in a devil of a hurry.”
“Really,” said Vale, giving his attention to his cards and taking not the slightest interest in the narrative.
“Wroxham,” stated Drummond.
Vale sat upright in his chair. “Wroxham you say?”
“Aye, had some yellow haired chit with him. Couldn’t see her clearly as she remained in the coach, but lay you a monkey he was off to the border...”
Vale threw his cards onto the table and rose so quickly that he over-turned his chair. “When?” he demanded fiercely.
“As I said, this morning.”
“What time?”
“I don’t recall, sometime around eleven I think.”
His lordship swore violently, bringing his fist down upon the table. Though not knowing it for fact, he could well guess whom Wroxham had in his carriage, and his temper rose out of control, rendering him deaf to his companion’s questions at his actions. Without giving any explanation, he strode out of the taproom, calling for his curricle as he went.
“But ‘tis dark sir,” protested the ostler.
“I shall see well enough,” snapped his lordship. “Do as I say and have the horses put to.”
“If that is what you wish, sir, but...”
“Do it!”
The ostler quailed before the fury in Vale’s eyes and hastening to the stables, set about tacking up the horses. Knowing the ways of the gentry, he realized that it would not be prudent to cross the earl whilst in such a mood.
Leaving The Pheasant at a break-neck speed, the roads appearing unfamiliar to him in the fitful moonlight, Vale soon found it necessary to bring his horses to a more reasonable pace. Wroxham had some eleven hours head start and would, even though Dominic drove through the night and changed horses frequently, arrive at the border well in advance of him. However, even supposing that Wroxham commanded a like speed, he was not likely to arrive much before evening on the following day and he reasoned that no marriage could take place until the next morning. Therefore, he had every chance of arriving at Gretna in time to prevent it from taking place. The thought that Wroxham may have taken Sophie by force crossed his mind, for surely she would not comply to such a scheme willingly. Had he driven her to it, or was she fearful that Thornton would still try to lay claim to her? Whatever her reason, he cursed his actions in coming to Kennington when he should have remained in London and secured his own, therefore rendering her unattainable to Wroxham. Whether she wished it or not, she must marry him. Not Wroxham. Most definitely not Wroxham!
Chapter Seventeen
Sophie sat on the settle in the private parlor of The Greyhound Inn, her morning meal remaining untouched on the table, whilst Lord Wroxham stood tensely by the window, gazing over the cobbled yard. They had each spent a restless night. Vale being uppermost in their thoughts, they were both fearful of meeting him for their own reasons. Wroxham remained in a state of unrest lest they should be discovered; whilst Sophie wished nothing more than that she had remained at Blake House. The atmosphere between the two of them was not of the best, both feeling decidedly out of frame with the other.
Although reluctant, Sophie had complied with his lordships wishes and changed into a gown at their first stop outside London and she now plucked nervously at her skirts, her hands in their agitation unable to remain idle.
“I cannot believe you found it necessary to leave a note for the duchess,” complained Lord Wroxham. “You may as well have informed the whole of London of our intentions. Our journey was to have remained undisclosed until we could return as man and wife.”
“I could not leave the duke and duchess without some words of explanation and expressing my appreciation for their kindness to me,” Sophie replied quietly. “They took me in and treated me as their own at a time when I was in great need. Indeed, if it had not been for Dom...” she stopped immediately, realizing that to even mention his name would only serve to inflame Lord Wroxham’s anger.
“Aye, aye, I know, your precious Dominic,” he replied spitefully, looking but briefly in her direction. “It would have been better had you eloped with him. I can see I am no substitute.”
“But then I could not, he has another to claim his affections, a fact that you have been at such pains to tell me, John.”
“And so he has,” he said, turning away from the window. “However, I see that I am a poor alternative for your idol and you will never speak of me with such affection, therefore, I realize the futility of continuing with this marriage...”
“Then we can return?” she asked, eagerly sitting forward in her seat.
A sudden clattering in the yard brought Wroxham’s attention once more to the casement. “My God!” he expostulated. “‘Tis Vale! How in the devil’s name did he know...?”
With a cry of alarm, Sophie sprang from the settle, her hands going immediately to her throat in a nervous gesture as they heard the earl loudly enquiring of their whereabouts.
“How in heaven’s name did he find out our purpose?” she cried. “For ‘tis plain he knows us to be here, or at the very least, suspects.”
Wroxham visibly paled, his unease showing in every line. “I know not how he came by the information, but as to purpose, why else should we be here?”
“Can you not think of some explanation, some excuse we can offer?”
“Such as what?” he scorned. “What other reason could we have to come to Gretna other than to get spliced?”
“Think!” squeaked Sophie, panicking at the sound of Vale’s boots echoing as he strode down the tiled floor of the hallway to the parlor.
The door was violently flung open and the Earl of Vale stood on the threshold, his coat and boots liberally covered in dust proclaiming the haste of his journey, his dark countenance made even darker by the fierce passions that had consumed him ever since leaving Kennington.
“What the devil are you at now, brat?” he snapped, coming forward and gripping her shoulders fiercely, attempting to force her to meet his fiery gaze. “Why this sudden desire to escape to the border? Am I to believe you in love with this snake?”
Wroxham hovered nervously; he liked not the look on his friend’s face but determined to brazen out the situation. “‘Tis monstrous good of you to hasten to attend our nuptials, Vale.” he said with only the slightest hint of uncertainty in his voice. “If I had but known your desire to be present, I would have ensured th
at you were issued an invitation. Unfortunately, as it is, sir, I find you extremely de trop.”
“You intend to marry this cur?” Vale thundered, not taking his eyes from Sophie’s face. The pressure of his hold increased until she cried out in protest, but so far gone was he in his rage that he was not aware that she did. “If you had arrived but an hour later you would have been too late to witness our nuptials,” said Wroxham, with an attempt at bravado.
A perceptible shadow crossed Vale’s countenance and casting a venomous look over his shoulder, he spoke with scarce contained fury. “Then it is fortuitous that I have arrived in time to prevent this debacle. I state it clearly now, so that there is no fear of misunderstanding. Whilst I still live, you will never take her to wife!” Relinquishing his hold on Sophie, he put her behind him before turning to face his lordship.
“No, Dominic. We are not to be married,” she cried in panic, taking hold of his arm in an attempt to divert his anger. “We were on the point of return.”
Not hearing her words in his rage, he was deaf to her pleading and flung her from him.
Blanching under the fury so evident on Vale’s face, Wroxham, without realizing his actions, started to slowly back away until he felt the table at his back. In one swift lunge Dominic’s hands were at his throat, their steel-like pressure rendering him almost unconscious as they bore him down onto the table.
With a desperate cry, Sophie ran forward to try to break Vale’s hold but she was shrugged roughly aside. “You will not save him,” he seethed through clenched teeth. “By God, I shall have his life.”
“Dominic, please listen to me,” she pleaded, attempting to capture his gaze. “Look at me, I am telling you the truth—we are not to be married. Please...”
For a moment he resisted the temptation to look at her but the urgency in her voice demanded his attention. As his eyes moved from Lord Wroxham’s face to Sophie’s, Wroxham, knowing his attention to have momentarily wavered, managed to prize Vale’s hands free from his throat.
Dominic (Books We Love historical romance) Page 13