by Emma Brady
“What do you mean we are leaving? Where are we going? Henry isn’t expected to return from Scotland for at least a fortnight.” Darla’s soft steps followed behind her.
“I know, which is why I had to hire us a carriage.”
“You expect us to travel to Scotland alone?”
“I would never interrupt my brother’s honeymoon.”
“Then where exactly do you plan for us to go?”
“Summerhill Manor.”
There was another overly dramatic gasp. Rory shook her head, having grown used to the theatrics over the years. Perhaps Darla should go into the theater and try to find a husband there. Kitty could be her mentor.
“That crumbling old country house your aunt left you?”
“Technically, she left it to my mother, but since she has passed as well, it fell to me.”
“You said the one time you went there to visit, there were holes in the roof.”
Rory shrugged. “I was a child with a wild imagination. I honestly don’t remember much of it.”
“There must have been a reason your parents never went there.”
Her parents preferred to stay in London, so they never went anywhere outside the city. Henry and Rory had both grown up there and loved it, but now it was about to get very uncomfortable for her. That was the part she was avoiding telling Darla about.
“It has been in my possession for years, and it is about time I visit. Henry and Kitty will want to live here when they return, so it might be nice to find a place of my own.”
“At Summerhill?”
There was clear disgust in Darla’s tone. Rory wasn’t excited about the idea of leaving London for some tiny rural village, but things had become desperate. She needed to find a way to raise the money she owed before Henry returned. She had no intention of residing there permanently.
“Think of it as a rest from the season. It has only begun and we can always return if it becomes too tiresome being in the country.”
Darla narrowed her eyes, and Rory recognized that expression. It was the one she always had when she knew someone was lying. The timid young lady seemed to have a talent for detecting lies and sniffing out schemes. It was too bad she found gambling distasteful, because she would have been very good at it.
“Why do we need to go now? You normally don’t want to miss a single moment of the season.”
Darla grabbed her by the arm and turned her around. It was too sudden and Rory let out a squeak.
“What are you not telling me?” This time there was real concern in Darla’s voice.
Rory was about to tell her the full truth, but there was a knock on the door. It was a relief but only temporary. She opened the door to find two gentlemen in bowler hats standing there. They had sneers on their faces and beady little eyes looking her over.
“Lady Rory?” The shorter of the two men asked, removing his hat and nudging his companion into doing the same. “I’m Mr. Hacksham and this is Mr. Simpson. Lord Bittleby has sent us to discuss an urgent matter.”
“I have nothing to discuss with that man, and I’m not currently receiving visitors.”
She attempted to close the door, but the man with red hair stuck his foot out to stop it.
“I’m afraid it is too important to ignore. Now, we can discuss it on your steps, where anyone could hear, or you can invite us in.”
Hacksham grinned and Simpson wiggled his eyebrows. They knew they were forcing their way in and didn’t care.
“Fine. Please come in.”
Rory could see the alarm on Darla’s face as she allowed the two men into the tiny front parlor. There was no use trying to keep her out of the conversation, so Darla hovered near the back of the room. Rory knew she would be dismayed at what she was going to hear.
“What is it Lord Bittleby wants from me?” Rory asked, not bothering to be polite.
“He wants to know when you will be paying your debts. He is expecting the money soon.”
“I owe him a small amount, yet he is that desperate for the funds?” Rory had lost a few games to the man over the last few months, but it was nothing close to what she owed other members of the ton. In total she owed close to a thousand pounds.
The two men exchanged glances, and that made her stomach turn.
“You didn’t receive his message this morning?”
“Delivered by another set of gentlemen?” She couldn’t keep the sharp tone out of her voice.
“No, I believe that was sent by letter,” said Hacksham.
“I wasn’t home this morning, so I didn’t receive any letter.” Rory was beginning to feel the nibbles again, only stronger this time. She was going to need more than a couple of cookies. “Please tell me what it said.”
“Lord Bittleby has decided to assist you by buying your debts from the other players in town. He now owns all your markers.”
“All of them?” The blood felt as if it were draining from her body. She shivered.
“Yes, but he said not to worry. If you don’t have the money, other arrangements can be made.”
Darla let out a squeak, but Rory ignored it and stayed focused on what the two men were saying. Hysterics would do them no good in this situation.
“He’s gone mad if he thinks I would stoop so low as to become his mistress!”
Both men began speaking at the same time.
“No, no, no!”
“He is offering you marriage in exchange for the sum of your debts,” Simpson clarified.
That was the last thing Rory expected to hear. Rumor had it that Lord Bittleby was under pressure to marry soon or his parents would cut him off financially. He had tried to find a wife in the traditional way over the last two seasons without much luck. He had obtained a nasty reputation as a bully and a letch from his behavior toward certain ladies who had married well. As a result, no respectable woman would have him. It appeared he was now willing to resort to extreme tactics.
“So, I can either pay him a thousand pounds or marry him?” The idea made no sense.
“He didn’t put it like that.” The way Simpson said it, it was clear that was what he meant.
“Is he expecting an answer today?”
“I believe so,” said Hacksham.
Rory could hear her heartbeat ringing in her ears, and the tightness in her chest increased. She felt light-headed to the point where she thought she might faint. She was in no state of mind to make such a decision.
“You can tell Lord Bittleby I will send him a response this evening. I need time to think about it.”
They both began stuttering incoherent responses that jumbled together. Darla finally took control of the situation, stepping between Rory and the two creditors.
“Marriage is such a generous offer. Lady Rory would not want to rush into it without proper consideration. It is better that she has time to let the surprise wear off so that she can truly appreciate what he is giving her. You wouldn’t want him to think she was taking his kindness for granted, would you?”
Darla spoke in her sweetest tone; it sounded like honey but still held a sharpness to it. The two men shook their heads in unison as if they were strung together.
“Let Lord Bittleby know he will receive an answer by sundown.”
When Darla used that tone, there was no room for argument, and that extended to the two men as well. With their hats still in their hands, they filed out the front door. Rory remained standing in the middle of the parlor until she heard the click of the door closing, then she crumpled into the nearest chair.
“Was that what you were hiding from me?” Darla asked, her tone soft and empathetic.
Rory would have preferred it if Darla were angry and not so sympathetic so that the guilt she felt would go away.
“Yes. That is why we need to leave London. I lost a great deal of money during the winter.”
“I wondered what you were using as a diversion, but I never suspected it had become a problem.”
“I’m better at keep
ing secrets than I am at playing cards.”
Darla stood across the room from her, but even from that distance, Rory could see the concern written all over her face. She was in more trouble than ever before, and she had very few options for getting out of it. Tears were making her vision blurry, but she fought them back as best she could.
“I never thought Lord Bittleby would do such a thing. I had intended to pay my debts off a little at a time, but now that he has them all...” Her voice trailed off into a hopeless sound.
“You could accept his offer of marriage.”
That idea made her skin crawl. “I would rather not.”
“You are almost five and twenty, and without any other marriage prospects. This might be your last chance.”
“If he is my only hope for marriage, I will gladly start wearing a spinster cap now.”
“Being alone is more difficult than you think.”
It was her bleak tone that reminded Rory that Darla was already past the point of marriage. She might have wanted a husband and a family once, but she had never had the chance. Now Rory was making light of her friend’s situation.
“Oh, Darla, I’m so sorry.” She got up from her seat and rushed to hold her friend. “I didn’t mean that. I just know that I could never be married to a man as repugnant as Lord Bittleby.”
The two women embraced for a moment, giving each other strength.
Darla finally broke the silence. “So, what are we going to do now?”
“I will send him word tonight that I intend to pay back the money I owe and I’m refusing his proposal.” Rory knew that was the only choice she could live with. “Then we leave London in the morning as I had originally planned. Once we reach my aunt’s state at Summerhill, hopefully we will find something of value we can sell.”
“What if we don’t find anything there? She died a long time ago, and you haven’t been back since.”
“I can’t allow myself to think about that. We must find something. It’s the only way I can settle things with Lord Bittleby.”
“Are there any more secrets you have been hiding?”
Rory started to shake her head, but then she remembered the irritating man from the carriage rental. She hadn’t asked him what kind of business he was in, but from his strong muscles and tanned complexion, she could guess it was something outdoors. His speech was very refined for someone in labor, so perhaps he was foreman or captain of some sort. Either way, his good looks would make him impossible to forget, so she had never seen him in London before. Especially that dark blond hair and beard he had neatly trimmed.
“We might have some guests on our trip tomorrow.” Rory could feel her words coming out fast as she tried to deliver the bad news quickly. “I’m afraid we are going to be spending the day with two gentlemen. At least until we get to Summerhill Manor.”
Darla’s sympathy melted away. “Strangers? Are you mad?”
Their tender moment was over, and Rory was back to defending herself.
“There was no carriage available, and I couldn’t wait until the end of week. A gentleman offered to share his with us. It was our only chance to leave the city.”
Darla gasped and clutched at her chest. “We can’t accept a lift from some stranger you met on the street!”
“We met inside the carriage house.”
There had been a bit of a spark when she caught his dark blue gaze and the memory still made her heartbeat quicken. That wouldn’t help Darla calm down. Telling her about his rude behavior wouldn’t either.
Darla’s eyes narrowed on her and Rory felt her cheeks flush. “That’s not the point. What about your reputation?”
“If word about my debts gets out, my reputation will mean nothing at all. I doubt Lord Bittleby will be discreet.”
Darla was struggling with their situation. “What kind of men are we traveling with?”
“I only spoke with the one, but Mr. Murdoch seemed very nice.”
“Not a peer, then?”
“No, but he must have money to be renting a carriage for the journey to Chatham.”
Darla crinkled her nose with distaste. “Those people often have bad manners.”
“I spoke with him, and he was very well mannered.” Rory remembered how his voice held that hint of an accent. “Nothing about him appeared dangerous.”
Darla pursed her lips, so Rory tried another approach to reassure her.
“I promise it will only be one day of inconvenience, and then we can find the means to get rid of Lord Bittleby. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
“That’s what people always say before disaster.”
Chapter 3
“HOW LONG ARE WE GOING to wait for them?” Rex grumbled from the chair he was folded into at the stable house, his eyes half closed. “I want to fall asleep as soon as possible.”
“We were early. They deserve a little more time.”
“Another half an hour, then we leave. With or without the ladies.”
Clayton had no intention of leaving without them. He would wait the half hour, but if she wasn’t there yet, they would wait a little more.
“Are we late?”
Turning, Clayton saw Lady Rory and her companion approaching the waiting carriage. It was hard for him to notice much about the other woman when Lady Rory so fully captured his attention. She was wearing purple again, only this time it was a light lilac shade. Shiny pearl buttons up the front of her coat and around the collar matched the pristine white of her gloves. Her thick auburn hair was pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck and tucked neatly under a white hat, also decorated with pearls and pinned down tightly. That hair caught the light and shimmered in such vibrant reds, it was like watching the sunrise all over again.
“I suppose my idea of morning was a little later than yours.” She gave him a smile that showed those lush lips across white teeth. “We should have been more definite in our departure time. It looks like your friend has already fallen asleep.” Her hazel eyes shifted to look behind him.
When he turned, he saw Rex slumped over in the chair. “He will perk up once we are on the road. He had a late night.”
“Hmph.”
That noise drew his attention to the other woman standing with Lady Rory. She was a little older, and she had a much more reserved appearance. Her dress was yellow without any adornments, and she wore a wide-brimmed hat to match. The outfit was simple and meant to avoid drawing attention. Still, when he looked at her rounded face, her twinkling honey-colored eyes were surprising pretty, even if she was glaring at him like a headmistress.
“He looks like he was up to trouble all night.” She turned those sharp eyes on Rex.
“That’s what I do best.”
Rex must have woken up while they were talking. Now he watched their expressions as he stood up from his chair. Both women let their mouths fall open when they saw Rex standing at his full height. That was how most women reacted to a man who stood almost seven feet tall. Clayton was considered tall at a little over six but looked short beside his friend.
“Rexington Holland. Pleasure to meet you.” He bowed to the ladies. “May I help you with your bags?”
The companion was the first to snap out of his spell, and she pointed to where two large traveling bags were sitting. He would have expected them to be traveling with a lot more than that if they were planning an extended stay in the country.
“My servants are traveling with the mail post and bringing the rest of our things.” Lady Rory must have noticed the way he was looking at her bags. “I didn’t want the carriage to be too heavy.”
That was very considerate of her.
“This is my companion, Miss Darla Capshaw,” Lady Rory introduced her friend, who gave only a sharp nod as a greeting. “She tends to hold people to higher standards than she should, but she can be very sweet once she becomes comfortable.”
“Then she might find our company lacking.”
He made the joke in an attempt to put he
r at ease, with little success. Lady Rory stood with a rigid straightness that did not relax an inch. Her hands fidgeted with the folds of her skirt, and her gaze darted around the room nervously. Miss Capshaw at least chuckled at his humor.
“Will we be leaving soon?” Miss Capshaw asked, searching for the driver.
“Yes, I believe within a few minutes.” Clayton pointed up to where the driver was already sitting in his perch. “May I help you in?”
Lady Rory took a deep breath that relaxed her body, and that smile returned. She was eager to get into the carriage, taking Clayton by the hand and climbing in gracefully. Miss Capshaw was more reticent and pressed her lips together tightly before taking his assistance. That was an interesting difference Clayton took note of.
Being gentlemen, Clayton and Rex allowed the ladies to have the front-facing seats. Clayton had never had a queasy stomach, so riding backward didn’t bother him. It wasn’t long into their journey before he could see Rex turning white and his eyes rolling around in his head.
“Are you going to be sick, Mr. Holland?” Miss Capshaw asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Of course not.” His hand covered his stomach. “But perhaps we should trade seats just in case.”
The carriage was already a tight fit, so changing seats was going to be a challenge.
“Here, I can take his place,” said Lady Rory. “I’m not bothered by riding backward.”
Ignoring her companion’s protests, they switched seats quickly and with minimum fuss. Clayton found himself side by side with the lovely lady.
“Are you comfortable, Lady Rory?” he asked, attempting to give her as much space as he could with his large frame.
“Quite, but please call me Rory. I feel we will all be close friends by the end of this, and that is what they call me.”
“This is all highly improper.” Miss Capshaw’s face was so red it looked like it was ablaze. “This entire idea is improper.”
“Then it really doesn’t matter if we push it a little further by using our given names.” She turned to face him in her seat. “You may call her Darla, although I’m not sure she will answer to it.”