“And she returned my regard, to my delight. I never believed in love at first sight, but I do now.”
Ellianne did not want to discuss falling into love. “What happened then?”
Then the servants recovered, and they all left for London. Brisbane skipped over the intervening days, the rest of the journey, the nights at various inns or whether he rode alongside the carriage or within. He thought it sufficient to say they arrived safely in London, more in love, and determined to wed.
Then he discovered her connections and her consequences. Worse, Lady Augusta discovered his lack of both. She forbade him the house. Isabelle told him not to worry, that her sister was different, and her sister was the only one whose approval mattered, to Belle or to the courts.
“She said you always judged a man on his own merits, not his title or his purse,” Captain Brisbane told Ellianne. “She said you would give us your blessings, because you only wanted her happiness, and she could be happy only with me.”
Stony handed Ellianne his handkerchief, but not the one with which he had wiped his face following the dog’s resurrection.
But the young couple could not wait for Isabelle to return to Fairview. They met, in secret, in the back garden or at the various museums, galleries, and cathedrals on Isabelle’s list. As Lady Augusta’s health deteriorated, so did their hopes of Isabelle’s early departure from London. They tried again to convince the old woman that true love mattered more than social position, that Isabelle’s portion was so large she could marry a beggar if she wanted, much less a half-pay officer. Lady Augusta was more and more adamant. Belle and Brisbane were more and more desperate. They were in love and impatient. They did not want to wait.
Lady Augusta stopped going out. Isabelle did not. With so few servants in the old miser’s house, and those busy caring for their mistress, or incapacitated, like Timms, it was easy for them to meet. Other times they visited in the parlor. Atlas was their only chaperon, often. Too often, to Ellianne’s way of thinking.
Then Captain Brisbane urged his darling to confront her aunt. He wanted an official betrothal, not a shameful, hole-in-corner affair. It was bad enough that he was wooing an heiress; he did not want her reputation destroyed, too. He was not ashamed of Isabelle or his love for her, and wanted the entire world to know of it, of the miracle that she loved him in return. Besides, he was tired of having to spend time with other young ladies, escorting spoiled misses to tedious events when he wished only to sit next to Belle at a fireside.
Isabelle was going to speak to her aunt the night of the Pattendale debacle. She was gone in the morning when he came to Sloane Street. The house was in an uproar, Lady Augusta was dead, and no one knew where Isabelle had gone.
“Didn’t you try to find her?” Ellianne demanded.
“Of course I did. I checked inns, posting houses, and hotels. No one had seen her. She had no friends that I knew of, so all I could do was return to my lodgings to wait. She never came. At last I decided that they must have argued about the betrothal, and that the harridan threw her out. When Lady Augusta died, Isabelle must have been afraid, so she went home, to you, Miss Kane, who could fix anything, she said. So I followed.”
“I never saw you at Fairview,” Ellianne said with suspicion.
“No, I did not make good time,” Brisbane answered with chagrin. First his horse came up lame right out of London and he had to walk to the closest inn, aggravating his wounded leg. He did not have the blunt to hire a carriage, so had to take the brute the sullen hostler offered. The man-hater tossed the captain as soon as they left the livery, and nearly broke his good leg, so he could not ride for two days. Then the horse tried scraping the determined rider off under a low-lying tree limb. The officer was concussed and lay on the cold, damp ground overnight, until a flock of sheep almost trampled him in the morning. The shepherd dragged him off the roadway, but had no horse or wagon to take him farther. Finally a farmer came by with his load of cabbages. By that time Brisbane had contracted an inflammation of the lungs. Two more weeks passed before he could resume the journey, begging rides in donkey carts and peddlers’ wagons, because his purse had gone missing while he was ill.
By the time he reached Fairview, Miss Ellianne Kane had left for London to settle her aunt’s affairs, the servants told him. Miss Isabelle Kane had gone north for the funeral. So the captain sold his watch and his silver buttons and trekked across the country to the Marquess of Chaston’s estate in Yorkshire. Isabelle was not there, never had been there, and was never going to be invited there. When he asked for an interview with the marquess, to offer for his niece’s hand in marriage, Brisbane was thrown off the property.
With nothing left to sell, he was lucky enough to find a ride back to London with a band of circus performers, in exchange for his help with their horses. They stopped at every market square and village green to perform, though, so he might have made better time if he had walked, if his leg had permitted.
But now he was back in Town, in a fresh uniform after a visit to his bank, and calling on Isabelle. He begged Miss Kane’s apology for mistaking her for his beloved—Miss Kane was too tall and too old, at closer inspection—but where was Isabelle?
After a look toward Ellianne to make sure he could speak what the poor man already suspected, Stony said, “That’s the problem. We have no idea. We thought she’d be with you, whoever her gentleman friend turned out to be, on her way to Gretna Green.” Brisbane drew himself erect. “I will marry my darling properly, in a church with our friends and family nearby. She deserves nothing less.”
Her sister deserved more than a crippled soldier who could not manage a simple journey, Ellianne thought, but the man did seem sincere in his affection for Isabelle. “We have to find her before you can marry her anywhere. Perhaps you have another idea where we can look?”
Brisbane did not. Stony sent him home to rest and think about it. He and Ellianne had unfinished business first.
He had hardly finished taking the pins from her hair when Timms cleared his throat outside the book room door. “You have a caller, miss.”
“Tell him to go away.”
“It is Lady Wellstone, and she is upset.”
“My stepmama is always upset about something,” Stony answered. “Give her a handkerchief and then tell her to go away.”
He knew that would not work, so he sighed and said, “Later, my sweet.”
Gwen was in the parlor, in a taking. She embraced Ellianne, crying, “You were right; that man is a rake! I have been offered the worst insult of my life.”
Stony cursed. He was not in the mood for any more high drama. All he wanted was ten minutes alone with Ellianne, not another confrontation.
“Wellstone will make it right,” Ellianne told the older woman, making Stony feel as if he could face a fire-breathing dragon, much less whatever gudgeon had offended silly Gwen.
“Which rake would that be, Gwen, and do I have to call him out?” The sooner he got rid of Gwen, the sooner he could have his time with Ellianne.
“Strickland!”
Ellianne was aghast. “He did not try to molest you, too, did he? I’ll run him through myself.”
Gwen sniffled. “Worse. He took me to his love nest!”
A man should not be shot for trying to steal a little private time with the object of his affections, Stony firmly believed, wishing he had some quiet place to take Ellianne. On the other hand, he did not appreciate the baron playing fast and loose with Gwen. “I thought you said he was reformed. In fact, I thought his intentions were entirely honorable.”
“So did I,” Gwen wailed, throwing herself into his arms and dampening his shirtfront with her tears.
Then Brisbane’s words echoed from the doorway again: “Unhand my fiancée, you cad!” Only this time the red-faced baron was in the entry, not a red-coated soldier.
“Fiancée?” Gwen and Stony asked at once.
But Ellianne was not paying attention. “Cad? Who are you to be calling Lord
Wellstone a cad?” She advanced on Lord Strickland, who scurried behind an armchair for safety. “You accost young women, you keep low company, drink and gamble to excess, and now you offer a respectable widow a slip on the shoulder. You should be ashamed of yourself, sir.”
Strickland looked toward Stony, begging for rescue, but the viscount had his arms crossed over his broad, damp chest and a smile on his face, enjoying Ellianne at her most majestic.
Gwen was still asking: “Fiancée? Did he say fiancée?”
No one answered her.
Ellianne tapped her foot. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
Strickland frowned at Stony for his lack of intervention. Gentlemen should stick together, after all. All Stony did was raise an eyebrow and wait. “I’d be interested in your answer myself, as the head of Lady Wellstone’s household, you understand.”
“What, I should have asked your permission first, a man half my age?” the baron blustered. “And that’s not the way of it a’tall. I admit I made some mistakes in the past, missy, and I’ve suffered for them, I have. Lost my lands, and almost lost my family jewels. But I already begged your pardon, and I ain’t doing it again. Whatever company I kept is nothing a lady should acknowledge nor mention, but since you did, I can say I ain’t been back in ages. As for my place in Richmond, I haven’t kept a mistress there in years. I wanted to show Gwennie that I wasn’t entirely without property, so she wouldn’t think she was marrying any caper merchant.”
Stony asked, “Gwennie?”
Gwen asked, “Marrying?”
But Ellianne asked, “Richmond? Isabelle said you took her for a drive there, too. Did you show her your house also, in hope of convincing her to marry you?”
Strickland kept his eyes from meeting Gwen’s. “Might have. It’s a pretty place. We didn’t go in, mind you. No one there but the caretaker and his wife, so it wouldn’t have been at all the thing.”
Ellianne turned to Stony. “She’s in Richmond! I know it. My sister is at Lord Strickland’s house in Richmond. I don’t know why she’s there, but it’s the perfect place to hide.”
There went Stony’s chance to have Ellianne to himself again. Later was seeming like forever to him, but he understood that she had to go see now.
Strickland went with Gwen in her carriage, and they stopped to pick up Brisbane. Stony took Ellianne in his faster curricle, but they could not get too far ahead, needing the baron’s directions. He directed the coach to pull up at a charming stone and timber cottage set in a well-maintained park. No one was stirring.
Ellianne hardly dared breathe, she was hoping so hard. She held Stony’s hand as they walked up the pathway to the house. When they were halfway there, the door flew open and a whirlwind with red hair rushed down the stairs.
“Oh, I knew you would come! What took you so long?”
First she was in Brisbane’s arms; then she was in Ellianne’s. She even kissed Stony’s cheek for driving Ellianne. “I do not know who you are, sir, but you brought my sister, so I am grateful.” She hugged a blushing Strickland for letting her use his lovely cottage, even though he had not known. After hasty introductions she invited him—and the rest, of course, since she had not released Captain Brisbane’s arm—inside his own house for refreshments.
Ellianne was wiping her eyes with Stony’s last handkerchief, but her joy was tempered with curiosity and a tinge of aggravation. Her sister was radiant, while she had been frantic with worry. She had a hundred questions. “But why are you here, Isabelle? Why did you leave Aunt Augusta’s? And why did you not come home, or tell anyone where you were? I have been turning London upside down, and half of England.”
“You mean you never got my letters? You neither, Daniel? That’s why you did not come for me?” Isabelle started weeping, but Stony did not flinch. She was Brisbane’s problem now, wetting the captain’s clothes. “Oh, I knew I should not have trusted that tinker! He swore he would take my letters to the posting house. I’d wager he took my coins and never delivered them!”
Ellianne felt better knowing that her sister had not forsaken her loyalty entirely, only her wits. “I got one, but could not read it. But why, love, why?”
“Because Aunt Augusta would not let me marry my dear captain. There was a terrible row, and then she told me to leave her house. You see, I told her I was breeding so she would have to let us announce the betrothal so we could go about together. But she washed her hands of me instead. She was so angry, I feared for her heart, so I packed and went to Daniel’s rooms. His landlady would not let me in, however, so I left a note and went to a hotel. Do you know most will not rent rooms to a single woman?”
Brisbane was in despair. “I never got that note, either! My poor darling, lost and alone!”
“Oh, I hired an old woman to pretend to be my second cousin, so the next hotel manager let me stay. The next afternoon, though, you still had not come. I read the newspapers, and they spoke of Aunt Augusta’s death, and that I might have had a hand in it. I swear, Ellie, I didn’t.”
“I never thought you did, love. And she was a horrid old woman anyway, throwing her own niece out in the night! But do go on. How did you come to be here?”
“I was afraid others might suspect me. And…and that Daniel did not wish to be connected to such a scandal.”
Brisbane groaned. “How could you doubt my love?”
“Because you did not come to the hotel, silly. Then I remembered this place, and thought I could stay here, with no one the wiser, while I decided what to do. I told the old couple that I was your mistress, Lord Strickland, and I am sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry over. Glad I could help.” And proud that someone might think the pretty redhead was in his keeping. He wiped away his grin when Gwen poked him in the ribs.
Ellianne was shaking her head. “But I still do not understand. Why didn’t you just come home? If your young man truly loved you he would have followed.”
“I was ashamed and afraid.” Isabelle clutched Brisbane’s hand, but she also touched her stomach. “You see, I really am breeding.”
Gwen swooned. Strickland caught her.
“Fainting is a family trait, I daresay,” Ellianne said, before she started beating Captain Brisbane about the head with her reticule. Since she no longer carried her pistol, her fury had almost no effect.
Stony pulled her away anyhow. “Remember he was concussed. And you need him to give your new niece or nephew a name.”
“And I love him,” Isabelle stated. “I knew it was wrong, but I do not regret giving myself to the only man I will ever love. I know Aunt Lally would never approve, but I hope you can forgive me someday.”
“Aunt Lally is back in town dallying with Timms, so you can forget about her censure.”
“Really? Anyway, I know you cannot understand, Ellie, never having known a grand passion, but it is wonderful and overwhelming and irresistible. I regret nothing.”
Ellianne did understand. And she regretted that she and Stony could not stay on in the Richmond cottage when the others drove back to town.
Chapter Thirty-One
Stony had had enough. He had waited long enough, watching all the happy reunions. Now it was his turn.
He pulled the curricle off the London road and headed toward a small inn he knew in a nearby village.
“But the others will not know where we are,” Ellianne protested.
“Good.”
“But Isabelle will worry.”
“After leaving you fretting for months? Good.” Besides, he doubted the captain and his bride-to-be would notice if the entire population of the south of England went missing, since they were alone in the carriage. Gwen and Strickland had decided to stay on in Richmond, after all, so Gwen could make some refurbishing decisions. Hah! The only thing she was deciding was whether she should marry by special license or have the banns called. Brisbane and Isabelle had no choice. A messenger was already on his way to procure a hasty permit from the archbishop’s of
fice. This was one messenger who would not go astray, not with what Ellianne was paying him.
Stony knew that as soon as they reached Sloane Street, Ellianne would be busy celebrating her sister’s return, then planning the removal to Fairview for the wedding. He would not have a moment of her time for days or weeks. Another hour was fifty minutes too long.
“Besides,” he told her, “I am starving.”
“I suppose we did miss nuncheon, but Isabelle offered us tea.”
“I am not hungry for a meal.”
Ellianne untied her hat when he feathered the corner into the inn yard. Dessert sounded just fine.
The innkeeper was reluctant to give them a private parlor. “I don’t hold with no loose goings-on, and that’s a fact, viscount or not, my lord.”
Stony whispered, but loudly enough for Ellianne to hear, “I hope to make an honest woman of her eventually.”
The innkeeper was still dubious. He looked at Ellianne, all ablush and her hair blowing down her back. “Redheaded women are nothing but trouble.”
“Amen to that,” Stony said, not bothering to lower his voice at all. “But she is rich. Very rich.”
“That’s all right, then, I suppose.”
“More than all right. She is perfect.”
The parlor was small but clean and sunny, with a table that could have seated six, and a sofa that was just right for two. The landlord warned that he would be back with tea and ale in a flash, but he winked at Stony on his way out.
Ellianne turned to Stony, ready to find his arms, more than ready to find his lips on hers. Instead he stepped away and led her to a cane-backed chair. “No, I will never get this done if we start that. Here, you sit where I won’t be so tempted.”
Ellianne folded her hands in her lap, but her smile was anything but prim. “Yes?”
“Deuce take it, I had this all worked out in my head.”
“You should have made a chart.”
Stony could not help himself; he reached out to stroke one loose lock of her hair, to let it ripple through his fingers like molten fire. Like lava, the touch burned. He went farther away and removed his coat, he was suddenly so warm. “Gads, this is harder than I thought.” So was he.
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