Charlotte Louise Dolan (28 page)

She took a deep breath and then said with determination, “So I have decided the only thing to do is marry a soldier like you and follow the drum.”

The difficulties he had foreseen suddenly loomed like insurmountable obstacles, and Darius decided better minds than his were needed to prevent this appalling eventuality. Freely admitting to himself that he was taking the coward’s way out, he nevertheless decided to turn the matter of Dorie’s future husband over to Elizabeth and Lady Letitia. Surely between the two of them they could find a suitable man—someone kind, intelligent, sensible, reliable, and definitely
not
a soldier.

“Following the drum is not the least bit romantic,” he said tentatively, not sure if opposition to her idea would merely serve to reinforce it.

Beside him Dorie sighed again. “That wasn’t really why I wanted to talk to you.” There was another long pause. “I did something awful, you see, and I am afraid when you find out what it was, you will send me away like you did your sisters.”

The idea that Dorie could emulate Lucy’s and Cecily’s behavior in any way was ludicrous, and Darius had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud, but the sincerity of her distress soon banished his amusement.

Dorie picked a yellow wildflower and began methodically to pull its petals off. Without looking at Darius, she said in a low voice, “I made a bet with Florie, you see, and I should never have done it, but I can’t even push the blame off on her, because the wager was entirely my own idea. She was being especially hateful, saying that a man never really falls in love with a woman, so it is up to a woman to flatter a man until he imagines himself in love with her. But that is no excuse for what I did.”

“And you wagered?”

“I bet her the five pounds I got for Christmas that she could not make any man she wanted fall in love with her. Well, how was I to know she would pick Simon?” Dorie said indignantly. “Simon! I ask you, why would any woman want him?”

It was apparently a rhetorical question, because she continued with scarcely a pause. “At first I thought it was the funniest joke imaginable—Florie throwing herself at Simon that way— but I hadn’t really considered what it would mean to Beth. There she was, trying her best to avoid him, and every time she told him no, Florie told him yes. It was awful. He almost drove her crazy—Beth, I mean—and I couldn’t even warn her, because of that stupid wager. It would have been dishonorable, you see, if I had deliberately done something to spoil Florie’s chances of winning the bet. Although why I should have worried about honor, I don’t know. As things turned out, Florie cheated anyway and trapped Simon into marriage. I tried to tell my mother what really happened that evening, but she wouldn’t listen, she was so in raptures about Simon coming up to scratch.”

Memories of the events at the Wynchombes’ ball were shifting and rearranging themselves in Darius’s head, and he began to see everything from a different angle. Had his wife been involved in the plot? Or had she looked guilty merely because she felt herself responsible for her cousin’s behavior?

Now that he thought of it, Elizabeth had had the same guilty look several times the night before, also, and she certainly could not be held accountable for his sisters’ actions.

“What makes you think Florie tricked him?”

Dorie gave a short laugh. “She bragged about it when she collected on the wager. She said it was child’s play to dupe Simon. Ugh! Do you know, I would have gladly paid fifty pounds—even a hundred pounds—not to see Simon ever again. Do you think that is what the vicar meant in his sermon last Sunday, about evil being its own reward? It seems excessive to me. One little mistake like making a stupid wager, and I am to be punished for life.”

“Punished?”

“Simon as a brother-in-law. Would you not call that a horrible punishment?”

“The only solution is for you to spend as much time at Colthurst Hall as possible.” He remembered the look on Bellgrave’s face when he had caught sight of Darius standing in the doorway of the little anteroom. “Somehow I doubt that dear brother Simon will be visiting here frequently.”

“Then you are not going to send me away?” Dorie asked hesitantly.

“We may have to feed you on nothing but bread and water for a few days and confine you to the dungeons in the cellar, but—”

“You have dungeons? Oh, I must see them at once.” Dorie scrambled to her feet.

“No, brat, we don’t have dungeons, and I am sure Mrs. Mackey would burn my beefsteak if I ever tried to confine you to your room on a diet of bread and water, not to mention the fact that the servants would none of them get a bit of work done because they would be falling all over one another trying to smuggle your favorite food up to you.” He stood up and smiled at her. “So I suppose I shall have to give up my plans to punish you as you deserve.”

Her fears for the future relieved, Dorie led the way back down the hill toward the house. Darius followed, his thoughts still on the events of the last few weeks.

Even a month ago he had been convinced that a man would not persist in his attentions to a lady if she simply made it clear to him that she was not interested. And he had therefore made the assumption that Simon had to be receiving positive encouragement from Elizabeth.

In light of Amelia’s behavior, however, it was impossible to maintain that attitude, Darius realized. She had thrown herself at his head for weeks, in spite of the most determined efforts on his part to let her know he was not interested. He had even resorted to blatant rudeness, yet still she had acted as if he were completely smitten by her charms.

The only thing that had caused her to cease her unwelcome attentions was the importing of other targets, but now that the eligible bachelors were fleeing for safety, she would undoubtedly once more direct her efforts at him.

He could wish that the interview he had told Kelso to arrange for him with the dowager duchess would proceed smoothly, but the odds of that happening were quite low. Somehow Darius doubted that the fair Amelia would be at all receptive to the rules he was going to lay down for her behavior. He would have to be open and direct, even blunt, if he wanted to convince her that he was not interested in availing himself of her attractions and, more important, persuade her that she would henceforth have to walk the straight and narrow path, or she would be so ostracized from society, she would wish she were shipped off to some distant colony.

Somehow he had no great confidence in his ability to spell it out clearly enough that Amelia would actually change her behavior. It was more likely that only time and experience would educate her as to the folly of pursuing her present course, and even that he would not be willing to wager any money on.

Beside him Dorie suddenly stopped and turned to face him.

“Darius?”

“Yes, brat?”

“I know yours was an arranged marriage also, but you are not sorry, are you? You do love Elizabeth now, don’t you? Forever and ever?”

He looked down into Dorie’s trusting eyes and could not bring himself to disillusion her. With no hesitation to weigh the merits of honor versus dishonesty, he lied through his teeth. “Yes, I do love her very dearly, forever and ever.”

* * * *

There was a light knock on the study door, and Darius looked up to see Kelso enter. Although a full hour after the appointed time, the confrontation with the dowager duchess was finally at hand, and Darius could only pray she would not resort to tears or have an attack of the vapors, neither of which would have any effect on him except to increase his irritation, did she but know it.

“Beg pardon, your Grace, but I felt I should inform you that the dowager duchess has neither put in an appearance nor sent any message.”

“The devil take that woman if she thinks she can ignore my summons.” Throwing down the accounts he had been studying, Darius want striding out of the study and made his way swiftly to the dower house, his temper not improving any along the way.

Without bothering to knock, he burst through the door and demanded of the first servant he encountered that she should fetch her mistress at once.

He paced the floor in the entrance hall until he heard footsteps descending the stairs. Looking up, he recognized Amelia’s companion, Cousin Edith, descending.

“I wish to speak to the dowager duchess,” he barked out, then moderated his voice when the poor woman virtually cringed away from him. “If she is still abed, tell her she has half an hour to make herself presentable or we shall have our discussion in her boudoir. The choice is hers.”

The woman scurried back up the stairs, and again Darius began to pace. Then, to his amazement, he heard hysterical laughter coming from above.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he followed the sound until he came to an open door. Inside the bedroom he found Cousin Edith alone, clutching several sheets of paper, still laughing so hysterically, tears were rolling down her cheeks.

Snatching the letter out of her hand, he read it quickly. It was loaded with flowery phrases and impassioned avowals, but the gist of it was that the fair Amelia was informing the world that she was eloping with a certain Mr. Weeke.

The name was familiar, and it took Darius only a moment to recall what Gorbion had said about Amelia’s lover in Bath.

His immediate reaction was heartfelt relief, but the full implications hit him seconds later—Algernon’s daughter to be raised by a rich cit and a woman of the loosest morals? Over his dead body! But it wouldn’t be him who was dead when he caught up with the loving pair.

Leaving Cousin Edith hiccoughing and giggling quietly to herself, Darius descended the stairs more quickly than he had gone up them, his mind intent upon regaining the child with the greatest speed and efficiency. Not one day did he intend to leave her in the care of such a couple.

* * * *

“Gorbion,” he bellowed, striding into the stables. “Saddle Bête Noire and another horse for yourself. That idiot woman has eloped with the man you assured me she was only flirting with.” Darius swore fluently and loudly, and when he finished, the stables were dead quiet, the grooms and stable boys staring at him with round eyes and open mouths, and even the horses were apparently too intimidated to shuffle their feet.

“I say good riddance to her,” Gorbion replied calmly.

“The devil may take her for all I care, but she does not have my permission to take my cousin’s daughter with her. I am the child’s legal guardian, and she will be raised here at Colthurst Hall, where she belongs.”

“Aye, and so she is,” Gorbion replied calmly, making no effort to saddle any horse.

“Is what?”

“Is here at Colthurst Hall.”

“You mean that woman brought the child here this morning before she ran off?”

“No, I mean several weeks ago Maggie found the child grossly neglected at the dower house, and your wife brought the wee thing back here and has been taking care of her at the hall ever since.”

“And that woman didn’t never even notice her babe was missin’,” Billy added, automatically dodging the box on the ears aimed at him by the nearest groom.

“This goes beyond belief,” Darius muttered, his anger only partially dissipated. “Why was I not informed of the situation?”

“We didn’t know anything about you being the legal guardian,” Gorbion explained, and from all their faces Darius understood what was not said. The servants had all been protecting his wife, who they had assumed had acted illegally in taking the child away from her mother.

Which did not explain why his wife had not seen fit to confide in him. Why hadn’t she sought him out and enlisted his help? Was she that afraid of his temper, that she distrusted his sense of fair play? It hurt to think she had distrusted him.

With an overwhelming sense of guilt, he realized how much greater had been his earlier distrust of her, how much more painful it would be for her if she ever discovered he had suspected her of lying, of deceiving him, even of breaking their marriage vows.

Although the urgency was gone, he still did not dally on his way back to the main house. It was only the need to see with his own eyes that the child was safe that caused his steps to quicken as he climbed to the upper level of the house where the nursery rooms were located, or so he told himself.

The door to the day nursery was open enough that he could see his wife. Elizabeth was rocking the baby and singing to her softly, and Darius thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight. Just so did he want her to sing to his own sons and daughters.

With a sharp pain in his heart, he realized he had not lied to Dorie earlier. He did indeed love Elizabeth dearly, and he immediately made a fervent vow never again to do anything that might hurt her.

He could never tell her about his suspicions, which he now freely admitted had been unfounded, never tell her how he had distrusted her on the flimsiest of evidence. To confess such things, while it might ease his own burden of guilt, would only cause her pain, and that he had just sworn never to do.

No, he would have to treat her with the utmost consideration, show her nothing but the greatest respect, and in every way make up for the wrong he had done her.

That Elizabeth already held him in some affection, he could not doubt, although it would be presumptuous to expect her to be able to love such a poor excuse for a husband as himself. But he was capable of learning from his mistakes, and he was sure that with sufficient effort on his part, he could at least make her content to remain his wife.

Some slight sound made Elizabeth look up, and she was startled to see her husband in the shadows just outside the door, watching her. How long he had been standing there, she had no way of knowing, and she could not read his expression. She turned away, instinctively pulling the child closer to her, afraid somehow to meet her husband’s eyes.

Entering the room, he approached her, not speaking, and she cast about in her mind for a satisfactory explanation of why she had taken another woman’s baby. She could feel the tension growing the longer the silence stretched between them, but somehow all her reasons, which had seemed so valid at the time, now appeared to be mere excuses.