A Sisterly Regard (21 page)

Everingham fought to free himself. "You may try, but my
mother does not approve of dueling. I would not accept your
challenge."

One last shake and he threw Everingham aside with such force
that he skidded across to floor to come up against the wall with a solid
thud. "Get out of my sight, you puling halfwit, before I do violence to
you." He advanced toward the cowering man with outstretched
hands.

Everingham scrambled to his feet and slammed out the
door.

Wilderlake took a deep breath and slowly unclenched his fists.
He could see no way to get Miss Hazelbourne back to London tonight.
Besides, his friends had already seen her. Even though they had not learned
her name, they would recognize her later. Even if he was able to convince
them to keep silent, eventually one would be sure to let something slip.
Colly, especially, had a tongue that wagged at both ends. Once in his cups,
he would be unable to keep such a delicious
on dit
to himself.
Soon the whole of Society would know how Miss Hazelbourne had been
found alone with Everingham at an inn, a full day's travel from
London.

Wilderlake had himself suffered from Society's gossip as a young
man. His father's profligate ways had been the talk of the
ton
,
making him the target of sidewise looks and whispered comments about
fortune hunters whenever he happened to partner an heiress in a dance.
He could not let Miss Hazelbourne suffer a similar fate.

He shook his head in consternation, for he was unsure of which
Miss Hazelbourne was in need of his aid. He probably should find out,
even if he had no clear idea of how to manage the task as yet. He rang for
the waiter.

That individual was hesitant to direct Wilderlake to Miss
Hazelbourne's bedchamber. The information cost him a crown and the
indignity of being subjected to the servant's knowing winks and nods. He
climbed the stairs and knocked upon her door.

"Go away. I never want to see you again," came a muffled voice
from within.

"Miss Hazelbourne, it is I, Wilderlake. Please come to the door.
I wish to help you."

Silence. He knocked again. Finally, he heard the key turn and
the door was pulled open a crack.

He peered into the darkened room, but could see little beyond
the shape of her face and the small hand clutching something at her throat.
"Miss Hazelbourne, Everingham has declared he does not intend to return
you to your family. I have come to offer my services in his stead."

"No."

"You will not accept my help? Come Miss Hazelbourne, you
cannot stay here forever."

"I cannot return to my family." she sobbed. "They hate me. And
I have ruined myself,"

He pushed open the door, forcing her to move backward. Now
he could see that she was clad in a nightgown, with a ragged quilt wrapped
over it. Her eyes were puffy from weeping and her hair was loose and
straggly about her shoulders. She bore little resemblance to the confident
and well dressed young woman who had soothed his brow after his
accident.

Was this she? Or her sister? If only he could see the color of her
eyes.

She retreated to the bed as he entered the room and closed the
door behind himself. Leaning against it, he regarded the frightened girl
cowering against the bed. "Miss Hazelbourne, I did not come here to offer
you insult or harm. Please believe me."

She retreated farther, backing up onto the bed, and perching
upon its edge. "He said...he promised...he called me..." she hiccupped as
the tears streamed down her cheeks and she tried to find words. "Oh,
Lord Wilderlake, I am ruined!" she finally wailed.

His heart torn by her distress, Wilderlake went to her. Sitting
beside her, he took her hands gently in his. Her sobs slowly stopped and
she wiped her eyes with a corner of the quilt. Lifting enormous, trusting
blue eyes to his, she essayed a tremulous smile.

Which one has blue eyes. Damme. Why can't I
remember?

"That is better. Now, we must discuss what we are to do with
you."

"I cannot return to my family. Oh, what am I to do?"

"I am certain your family will welcome you back with great
relief. They must be sick with worry for you. Unless they know where
you are..."

"No, they do not. I stole out of the house during the night. I
cannot go back. They will be so angry with me."

"I rather think that they would be so glad to know that you are
safe that they will not even reprimand you, should you return
unharmed."

"But I am not unharmed," she wailed.

"Not? Did he..." So great a rage consumed him that he could not
continue.

"Oh, no, Lord Everingham did not touch me. But my
reputation! He said that his mother would tell everyone that I had lured
him here. And she would. She is a wicked, vengeful woman." The sobs
broke out anew.

He pulled her into his arms. As she wept against his chest, he
became aware of a great feeling of tenderness. No matter the cost to
himself, she must be protected from the results of her injudicious actions.
The solution, when it came to him, struck him as so perfect, so right, that
he wondered why he had not seen it immediately.

"For Lady Everingham to blacken your reputation would be
impossible, if you were my wife."

"You wife! But you would not... You could not wish to marry
me!"

"If that is what it will take to ensure that your good name is
unblemished, I will do so. Will you do me that very great honor, Miss
Hazelbourne?"

"I cannot. I cannot take advantage of your chivalry."

He caught her chin on the edge of his hand and forced her to
look into his eyes. "You were willing to take advantage of Everingham's
foolishness to obtain him as your husband. You tricked him into this
elopement, did you not?"

She blushed as she gave a tiny nod.

"Unlike him, I am fully aware of the implication of my proposal
to you. I am no callow youth with an overbearing mother. You have not
tricked me into anything. I had intended to seek a wife this Season, even
though the restoration of my fortunes has still a long way to go.

"I found you attractive the first time I saw you." He ignored the
small voice that asked him exactly when that was. Which Miss
Hazelbourne did he hold in his arms?

"My mother will welcome you, for she has been after me to
marry these past several years. Indeed, she even suggested that either you
or your sister would make me an excellent wife, for she knew your
parents many years ago, and admires them both greatly."

He waited for her to say something, and when she remained
silent, he went on, "Come Miss Hazelbourne, make me the happiest of
men." He waited again. "Or have you taken me into aversion?"

"No, my lord. I have liked you ever since I first saw you. But the
duchess said your fortune was squandered. I had wanted to marry
someone who would keep me in the first style of elegance."

The complete artlessness of her confession made him smile. "I
cannot promise to do that, but my pockets are no longer completely to
let. I think I could contrive to provide you with some of the luxuries," he
told her with a wry smile. Sometime in the past while, he had come to
believe she might suit him very well. "I, too, have been aware of a liking
for you since our first meeting."

Wilderlake still did not know which of the sisters she was, but
really didn't matter, for he had liked them both. If he was going to marry a
total stranger, one sister would do as well as the other.

After what seemed an age, she said, "Well, then, my lord, it
seems that I must accept your proposal with gratitude." Again the trusting
look, as if he held the solutions to all of life's problems in his hands.

He vowed silently to merit such trust. "I will return you to your
family on the morrow, Miss Hazelbourne. At that time I shall speak to
your father, who should not object. As soon as possible I will obtain a
special license, so we can be married by the day after tomorrow at the
latest."

"I wanted to be married in St. George's," she said with a small
pout. "I have heard that all the best weddings are held there."

"Unfortunately, that cannot be arranged. You will have to settle
for a quiet wedding in the bosom of your family. Immediately afterward,
we will go to Wilderlake Castle, so you will not be exposed to the rumors
and snubs that might otherwise be your lot until Lady Everingham finds
someone else to rip apart. Perhaps your family might care to join us in a
few weeks."

"But the Season is not even half over!"

"There will be other Seasons, my dear." He became aware that
he was still sitting on her bed, holding her in his arms. She felt entirely too
good there. He stood and stepped away from the bed. "I think we can
contrive to be reasonably happy. I am not averse to spending at least part
of the Season in London. When we are at Wilderlake Castle, there will be
much to occupy your time. It is badly in need of renovation. Within
reason, you may have a free hand at redecorating."

Chloe sighed. This was not going as she had planned, but Lord
Everingham's warning about his mother's power among the
ton
had hit home. She had gone too far this time, as her sister had warned,
time and again. How convenient that Lord Wilderlake had been on hand
to save her from her own folly.

He is a viscount. Not as good as an earl, but still...
"Very
well, my lord. I will be ready to depart at whatever hour in the morning
you set. You will stand by me when we reach my parents' home, will you
not?"

He reassured her that he would allow no one, not even her
parents, to abuse his affianced wife. "For, my dear, once you accepted my
proposal, you became my responsibility."

She sighed with relief. "Oh, my lord, are you certain that you
wish to marry me? I am given to willfulness and tantrums and I do not
always like to do as Society expects of me."

"Then you must endeavor to conquer such impulses, Miss
Hazelbourne. Look where they have led you."

"I have done nothing else for the past hour, my lord," she said,
wishing his arms were still strongly about her. "Tonight I was forced to
admit that Mama and my sister were correct in accusing me of having
become terribly spoiled and arrogant in the past while. Today, finding
myself penniless and abandoned so far from London, I suddenly became
aware that I had lost all sense of restraint over my actions. I have resolved
to act with more temperance and thoughtfulness in the future."

Wilderlake smiled warmly, but did not step forward to take her
into his arms as she had hoped he would do. Instead he took her cold hand
and bowed over it. "Get you into bed now, and sleep well. It has been a
trying day for you. I will have someone attend you in the morning. Good
night."

"Good night, my lord." Chloe waited until he left the room,
then flung herself onto the bed to indulge in a new flurry of weeping. She
wept for all her dreams, now lost, and for the future that she faced as the
wife an impoverished viscount in a draughty castle in Cumbria.

* * * *

Wilderlake did not weep, but he sat long in the parlor after
seeing his friends to bed. He had refused to give them details of the
situation, but had informed them that the girl was indeed a lady and they
were to keep quiet about what they had seen and heard. He would take
the young lady back to London the next day, leaving them to make the
return journey without him.

What would his mother think when she learned she was to have
a daughter-in-law? He had not lied when he told Miss Hazelbourne that his
mother liked her, but he had to acknowledge to himself that she had said
that she liked Miss Phaedra Hazelbourne much better than her flighty
sister.

He was coming to suspect strongly that the girl in the bedroom
upstairs was the flighty sister. Chloe.

"Chloe," he said, testing the word on his tongue. "Chloe." He
cast his mind back to his university days, but all he could recall was a
tenuous reference to summertime. Yes, the name fit her, for her smile
was as bright and sunny as a summer's day, her tears as quick and warm as
rain in July.

He hoped that his mother would accept her and learn to love his
wife.
And will I learn to love her?
He had no thought of a marriage
in name only, as the young woman upstairs was to be the mother of his
children.

A sudden warmth filled him at the thought of the begetting of
those children.
Yes, I can definitely see her as my wife. But love? I honestly
do not know.
He had little time for such sentimentality, for the task
before him was still Augean, though not insurmountable as it had seemed
upon his father's death.

His own mother had admitted not loving his father, but she had
been a good wife to him, in spite of his mistreatment of her. At least
his
wife would not suffer as his mother had, contriving to keep
the bailiffs away, to keep food on the table, to hang onto the unentailed
lands of the estate until her son reached his majority.

As the rain-washed day slowly dripped into evening,, Phaedra
found her thoughts drawn ever again to her sister's predicament. While
she had never understood Chloe's desperate need to marry soon and well,
she had sympathized with her determination to shape the future to her
own satisfaction.

Theirs had never been the ordinary upbringing, for Mama was a
great believer in education for girls, and Papa was determined his
daughters would be trained in estate management and financial affairs.
Both parents had encouraged their children to independent thought and
open mindedness.

At the same time they had stressed the importance of society,
for, as Mama had more than once quoted, "No man is an island..."

Phaedra had eagerly embraced the opportunity for education,
and had read widely and voraciously, concentrating mostly on the natural
sciences. Chloe, less able to be inactive for long periods, had spent many
hours playing the piano and the harp, until she was an accomplished
musician. Both girls had involved themselves with village and parish
activities, although once discovered by the local swains, Chloe's interest in
all but parties and routs and other of the more frivolous pursuits had
gradually excluded other social pastimes.