Madcap Miss

by Claudy Conn

  This mood was soon dispelled by Ashton, who said, “Scott, you are looking fagged to death. I think we should leave you to have some rest.”

  “No, you don’t. Of all the paltry things,” Scott said.

  Ashton grinned and left them then; when he returned, his reappearance took all of Felicia’s attention, and she found herself staring at him. She sucked in her lips as his lips occupied her attention. What was wrong with her?

  He had arrived with a warm smile for her and quietly told them that they might have a bit of a wait as Miss Wilson’s father, the squire, was not found at home. The livery boy had returned to say one of his staff had gone in search of him, for the good squire was out with a group of his friends all bent on finding his daughter.

  “Oh dear, poor Papa,” Becky cried, and Scott bent out of his chair to pat her arm.

  Softly he told her, “They will find him, and before you know it he will know you are safe. Those scoundrels will be nothing more than a bad memory.”

  Felicia’s jaw dropped. He was playing the gentleman so well. Was he always the collected, concerned gentleman she presently was watching, or had his sudden concern for Becky brought it out of him? She was more than a little astonished and turned to find Ashton looking at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

  “What, sir?”

  “Am I forever going to hear only ‘sir’ when you address me?” he asked impatiently, ignoring her question as he pulled a wooden chair up and sat.

  She felt a blush fill her cheeks. “What then shall I call you?”

  “Glen. I have been dearly wishing to hear my name on your lips,” he said softly.

  Her breath hitched in her throat. She met his gaze head-on, and they remained locked in that gaze for a moment. She felt her heart thumping and was recalled to order by Scott, who demanded, “Well? Come on, Flip. Who if not you will tell me what happened and how you became embroiled in the ugly business?”

  “What? Oh … well, yes, there I was out for a bit of a ride, and it was the veriest chance that I heard them.”

  “Ah, eavesdropping is something she does very well,” Scott announced with a chuckle.

  “Disagreeable boy, do you want to know or do you not?” she countered.

  “Do go on,” Ashton said on a short laugh, “for I too, would like to know how you came upon the scoundrels.”

  Slightly mollified, though casting a warning glare at Scott, Felicia continued. “Right then, so there I was already off my horse checking Whiley, as he had thrown a shoe, when I heard and saw something that did not feel right. I was quickly very sure something havey-cavey was about, you see …”

  “Havey-cavey?” Ashton laughed. “You have that term from Scott here, no doubt?”

  She frowned darkly at the two men bent on teasing her. “I do, but if everyone will keep interrupting me I shall lose my way and not be able to tell you anything more at all.”

  Ashton put up his hands, and Scott barked a laugh to say, “That won’t fadge, girl—not one bit. You want to tell us your part as much as we want to hear it.”

  She narrowed her eyes and wagged a finger but said, “So there I was. Those villains had … slapped brave Becky, and, well …” She gave Becky an encouraging smile. “I had no choice but to follow the blackguards.”

  “Of course,” Ashton said with a grimace, “with no thought to yourself.”

  “I know how to keep out of sight.” Felicia put up her chin. “So, I did what needed to be done. I followed them. Then all at once, there was Mr. Ash—” She noted that Ashton’s brow was up and corrected herself. “Glen, who had apparently followed me.” She rounded on him and demanded, “Which is something I have been wondering about?”

  He inclined his head and said softly, “Indeed. I saw you walk to the stables and thought to catch up and ride with you.”

  She dimpled and said, “Oh.” She turned back to Scott. “Well, once Ashton … er … Glen arrived, I knew everything would work out right and tight.”

  “Did you, my dear?” Ashton said softly, and again when their eyes met she felt a glow rush through her body.

  “Scott,” Felicia said as she tried to compose herself, “on the ride over here when I told Becky how much we love to hunt, she told me that her father has taken her up to hunt the Quorn a few times over the years!”

  This so impressed Scott that his mouth dropped open. “Never say so? Upon my word, you hunt the Quorn, Miss Wilson?”

  Becky nodded shyly, and Felicia laughed. “There, you see? He is mad about hunting. Has always talked about going north to do so.” She turned to Ashton and asked, “Have you ever hunted the Quorn, sir?”

  “You and Miss Wilson are already on first names. Would that my name would come as easily to your lips,” Ashton said in an aside and then added a bit louder, “Indeed, I have hunted the Quorn often.”

  Felicia eyed him and instead of replying to this, said, “I should like to do so one time, but right now I am famished. When do you think we may have some food?”

  “Indeed,” Ashton said quietly and as he had bent close to her ear, only for her ear, “I am I find more famished every minute that passes.”

  She eyed him saucily, for he was flirting outrageously with her and she quite liked it. “Ah, then I say we must eat … at once.” The tease was in her eyes, and she was encouraged by the smoldering look he gave her.

  Scott and Becky had already entered a lively discussion about the many exciting differences of hunting the Quorn and paid them little heed as Ashton took Felicia’s hand and slipped it through his bent arm and led her towards the door.

  “Do you two join us?” he said languidly over his shoulder.

  “Not Scott, he needs his rest,” Felicia said worriedly.

  “Pon rep, what, do you mean to starve a man of food and company?” Scott objected.

  “You promised.” Felicia wagged a free finger.

  “I think a meal will do him good,” Ashton said.

  Scott, who had been reclining in his chair, hurried to his feet and as he winced with the sudden movement Becky immediately put a hand to his good arm and said, “Oh, sir … are you all right?”

  He grinned and said as he bent to gallantly kiss her fingers, “Quite.” He offered his uninjured arm and followed Ashton and Felicia, who was astonished at the unsuspected gallantry her longtime friend had never before displayed.

  Felicia found she could not stop herself from eavesdropping as Becky spoke to Scott, and she listened to their quiet conversation with great interest.

  “Felicia told me you were shot trying to help someone on the road. It seems this county is full of scoundrels.”

  This made Felicia smile to herself and take a peek at Scott over her shoulder as she watched him take center stage and recite the tale of his adventure.

  Well, well, she thought, here was definitely a new and far more mature man. Who was he? Was he the Scott she had grown up with? He was actually trying to impress their new friend. This was very good fun to watch.

  ~ Eleven ~

  AT FELICIA’S HOME, Easton Manor, a great deal of excitement and havoc was taking place.

  Lady Daphne had finally arrived at the manor and was apprised of the intelligence that Felicia Easton and young Scott, the neighboring squire’s son, had run off together, and no one knew where they had gone.

  Upon hearing this news, Lady Daphne had put a gloved hand to her forehead and slumped into a nearby chair. Had her darling Freddy been on hand, she believed she would have fainted dead away and allowed him to take charge. He was, however, not on hand, and her odious brother had not only dropped this all in her lap but was nowhere to be found.

  It was up to her to do something, but she didn’t have a notion of what that ‘something’ should be.

  She eyed the servants, and they shrank into the background. The squire arrived and introduced himself as Scott Hanover’s father. She allowed him her hand and asked, “Did you have a notion they would run off to marry? Did you object to the
marriage—is that it?”

  He eyed her with his quizzing glass and made her understand in a blast of words that if she thought his son and the little minx, Flip, had run off to get married, she was no more than a fool.

  She didn’t have the time to take insult. She glared at him instead asked instead, “Why then have they run off … together, pray tell?”

  “From what I have gleaned from my people, and that only because one of ’em overheard Scott telling a friend of his, the duke was coming to abduct our little Flip away and marry her off. They took off to hide from the old fidget. Seems he meant to take her to Swindon of all the outlandish places, no doubt where she isn’t known and would have no protection. Felicia wouldn’t stand for it, and right she was. No woman should be forced into marriage, and if they had only confided in me, I would have stood beside them and taken care of the matter. They didn’t. Perhaps they thought I would not be able to do anything. At any rate, took fright and off they went.”

  “Swindon … the duke …? Oh, you are speaking of my uncle?” Daphne shook her head, and then dawning lit in her eyes. “Oh … you don’t know. My uncle passed away, you see. Did no one even advise Miss Easton? Well, upon my word. But why my late uncle would have wanted to take her off … and, wait, he passed two months ago … why would she run now?”

  “Got his letter saying he was coming for her,” the squire answered on a frown. “Someone was coming … was it you?”

  “No, well, yes, but it is my brother who is now duke … he was to meet me here.”

  “Well, he made a botch of it, didn’t he?” Wagging a finger at her, he added, “Where is he, this brother duke of yours?”

  She pulled a face. “I am not certain. He must have been detained on the road. I was myself when we lost a wheel.”

  “Well, whatever he wrote in that letter overset those two,” the squire said ominously. He fished for it in his pocket and, having found it, waved it in front of her face. “This is what one of Flip’s servants found in her room.”

  She took the note and read it. She then closed her eyes and opened them to say quietly, “My brother is short and to the point, and I can see how a young lady might have taken it into her head … to think … but to bolt, and your son with her?”

  “Miss Felicia Easton is not just any young lady. Spirited lass, and my son is devoted to her. Of course he would help her.”

  Daphne made a mental note to tear her brother from limb to limb with her own hands, but she smiled and said softly, “Well, we must remain calm and get this all sorted out. Do, Squire, be seated so that you may address me in a rational matter, and we may, between us, find a solution to our present predicament.”

  The squire, seemingly taken by her quiet air of authority, made a grunt and another sound but did, in fact, pull up a chair and sit, though he still grumbled when he said, “Right then, m’lady. Here is m’boy’s letter that he left for me … I shall read it to you, though I know better than to think he thought up these words—more than likely the little minx dictated this.”

  Lady Daphne heard the affection in his tone when he spoke of Felicia Easton and waited for him to begin reading by folding her hands in her lap as she shifted in her seat.

  Dearest Father:

  Don’t fly into the boughs and don’t be cross. It is for the best. Taking our Flip away with me was the only answer to our problem. The Duke was on his way, you see, so there was nothing for it but to save her and I was the only one that could do that. Can’t tell you more lest you feel the need to do your duty and come after us. Mustn’t do that, you know. Will see you soon and trust in your son to see our girl safe.

  Your loving son,

  Scott

  The squire put this letter away and looked into the Lady Daphne’s eyes to ask, “Did you ever hear such nonsense? You would think the minx feared for her life, though if it is true he meant to take her to Swindon and force her hand into marriage, I can’t say as I blame her or Scott for taking care that didn’t happen.” He leveled a look at her. “What sort of fellow is your brother to frighten her like that?”

  “I am all at sea,” she confessed. “I have no idea why she should have taken such a fright into her head. She doesn’t even know him … didn’t know our uncle, and my uncle wasn’t the sort to force her into marriage. It is absurd. He had no need of her wealth, and both his sons died at Waterloo … tragic, and what is in Swindon? I have no idea.” She regarded the squire pointedly and asked, “Well, then, Squire, if they have not eloped, then just what have they done?”

  “Zounds, if I know, woman!” the squire retorted irritably.

  “Faith!” was her response. What, just what was she to do?

  “The question is, while I know they aren’t eloping, people won’t know it, and eventually it will get out that they have run off together. I don’t want the minx involved in a scandal … nor do I want my son offering for her just to save her reputation. A damnable fix this is.”

  Lady Daphne suddenly found herself sympathetic. This was all her late uncle’s fault for frightening the child half to death and then her brother’s for not visiting with her immediately. She could see this was something she was going to have to handle, and she knew just how to put out the embers of a brewing scandal. “Right,” she said with firmness. “No scandal will ensue from their youthful exploit, for I can see it all, and that is what it is, a youthful exploit, ill conceived but dangerous to both their reputations. I shall see to this—we will not have a scandal.”

  “You will see to it? How?” he asked doubtfully.

  “It will take some work, but it can be done,” she answered thoughtfully as she formulated a plan in her mind.

  “You will set it about that you have sent your son off to London on some business errand you required him to see to for you. Make certain you tell all your cronies this. See to it that the staff believes this.”

  “My staff knows better,” he said doubtfully.

  “Do they? Yet they shall not accuse you of lying?” She arched a brow.

  “Of course not!”

  “There, you see. Scott is in London. When I am done, it is what everyone will believe as a fact. As to my charge, my brother sent me here to care for her and prepare her for her first London season. She is away, visiting with one of her friends from school, so I am waiting for her return.”

  “The staff here already knows otherwise,” the squire said, eyeing her.

  “Yes, they do, and I believe are quite loyal to her. They have pampered and looked after her for quite some time, have they not?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Ah, they did not even wish to tell me she was not at home. They had no choice and even then made up some flummery about her being at a friend’s estate.”

  “Yes, yes, this could work …” he said hopefully.

  “Of course it will work. Who would doubt me?”

  He eyed her respectfully. “Not any that I can think of. But what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Do you remain here?”

  “Only long enough to make certain your neighbors know that, having waited long enough, I am off to join her and then escort her to the duke, who awaits us in London.”

  “Yes, this may work, yes, indeed,” he said and added, “Well then, my lady. You are quite a bit more than just a piece of society froth. Indeed, and you have a kind heart. Thought I saw it in your pretty eyes, and now I know it.” He started for the door. “I shall start putting it about that Scott has gone off to London.”

  “Excellent,” Daphne said brightly and didn’t let her worry about this entire affair show on her face. Worried? She was nearly frantic. She already felt for the child. Alone and so frightened she had taken off in the night. Well, she decided, going to see Cook in the kitchen, no better time than now to get things started, and who better than the servants to start it about that Miss Easton was off visiting a school friend.

  ~ Twelve ~

  ASHTON HAD ORDERED a luncheon to b
e served in the private parlor and was content to find that the innkeeper’s wife had set out a simple but quite delectable selection of entrées and side dishes on the long, dark oak sideboard.

  Hence, it was some twenty minutes before any real conversation took place, as both ladies and their gentlemen companions were too hungry to do anything else but eat.

  Felicia took a last savory mouthful and sat back with a contented sigh to say, “Hmm. That was excellent.”

  “Lord, my dear Felicia,” Becky returned on a laugh, “you shoveled that down in a thrice, didn’t you?”

  “Dreadful cat!” Felicia wagged a finger and cast her an amused eye. “You haven’t done so badly yourself.”

  “Ah, but I am entitled. I was the victim of this adventure and haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon,” drawled Miss Wilson superiorly.

  “Yes, there is that,” agreed Felicia and then narrowed her eyes. “Ah, but all you had to do was lie there semi-conscious and expend no energy whatsoever, while we did all the work to rescue you.” She got to her feet and moved towards the courtyard window as laughter and an exchange of remarks took place.

  She saw Ashton get to his feet and cross to a writing desk, where he sat and took up a quill and paper. Hmm, she wondered. Who was he writing to? She meandered towards him and asked idly, “Writing Becky’s father?”

  He eyed her seriously, though there was a twinkle in his silver-lit eyes. “No, I have already written to him, so there would be no need for another missive. In fact, we may soon find him walking through the inn door.”

  “Oh,” Felicia said, wishing he would tell her who he was writing to and wondering how she could find out.

  He seemed amused by her open curiosity and teased her further by saying, “Indeed, I fear we shall lose her delightful company any moment now.”