Devil's Match (20 page)
“I
say, Miss Ashleyâare you quite certain that we have not passed it?” Albert Bascombe asked anxiously. “I mean, we have been on the road two hours and more.”
“No, we are not there yet.”
“Thought you said it wasn't far.”
“Well, I was not precisely sure of the distance.”
“Miss Ashley, I am deuced hungry,” Bertie complained. “If it ain't coming up in the next few minutes, I mean to stop at the nearest inn and eat. I didn't have nuncheon today.”
“Neither did I.”
“You didn't? Then I insist we stop. There's a place Patrick and me ate the last time we came up this roadâain't half bad if you like pork pie.”
Caroline stared out the carriage window anxiously. It was growing late and there was no sign of any pursuit. Surely Juliana and Rotherfield must have received her letters by now.
“You all right, Miss Ashley?” Bascombe cut into her thoughts.
“Yes. I am a trifle tired, that's all.”
“Thought you was. Trifle hagged, too.”
“Thank you for noticing, Mr. Bascombe.”
“Didn't mean it like that, Miss Ashleyâassure you I didn't. Got no address, that's all.” He stared into space for a moment and then sighed glumly. “You know, if a man had to get married, I mean, if I had to get leg-shackled, you are more the sort of female I'd take. Oh, I know, you cut up a devil of a dust at Dover, but you ain't given to freaks of distemper like Miss Canfield. If one of us don't cry off, I might as well put a period to my existence.”
“Mr. Bascombe, you would not!”
“No,” he admitted miserably, “but I ain't going to like being married to her.”
“Perhaps it will not come to that,” Caroline soothed.
Just then, they became aware of a curricle careening precariously close to theirs. Bertie's driver cracked the whip to pull away on the narrow road, sending the coach swaying. Caroline grabbed the pullstrap and looked out to see the door of the other conveyance mere inches from her window. Her eyes widened as she saw its occupants.
“Juliana!”
“What?” Bertie gasped. “No!” Pounding on the roof of the passenger compartment, he yelled above the din, “Pull into the Hawk ahead!”
The wheels brushed, nearly sending Bertie's carriage into a ditch. Caroline closed her eyes and prepared for the worst. Bascombe lost his grip on his strap and was flung into her lap. She tried to hold on to him with one arm as the other coach edged past.
“Are you all right, Mr. Bascombe?” she asked shakily when they were again on the road.
“No, I ain't! Of all the cow-handed things to do! Ought to be a law against driving like that!”
The carriage slowed and rolled into an innyard. Almost before it stopped, the door was yanked open.
“You fool! You bloody fool!”
“Patrick!” Bertie goggled. “What are you doing here?”
“Well might you ask,” was the grim reply. “Pistols or swords?”
“What? Patrick, you've taken leave of your senses! Miss Ashley, you tell himâ”
“I am afraid I left word with Juliana we were eloping,” she apologized.
“No!”
“Are you getting down, Bertie, or am I dragging you out of there?” Patrick demanded.
Bascombe pulled at his cravat, which had suddenly become uncomfortably tight, but he managed to jump down. “Pat, it ain'tâ”
They were interrupted by the arrival of another, more impressive carriage, which came to a stop a bare ten feet from them. Both Bertie and Patrick had to jump away from the horses. A tall, hard-faced man stepped down grimly.
“Rotherfield!”
“Westover,” the earl acknowledged. “I had hoped it would not come to this between us, but I cannot allow you to elope with Miss Canfield.”
“My lord!” Caroline pushed past the stunned Bertie and Patrick. “Did you get my letter? Oh, dearâI can explain everything!”
“Caroline!” It was Rotherfield's turn to be shocked, and for once the usually impassive face betrayed a parade of emotions. “What the deuce is going on here?”
“I will be happy to settle with you, Marcus,” Patrick interrupted, “but first I mean to deal with Bertie.” His eyes met Caroline's for a moment. “As for you, my dear, if you could not stomach Rotherfield, you should have turned to meâat least I love you! I may not have as much money as Bertie or Marcus, but I'm not in Paupers' Row either!”
“Caro”âJuliana reached for her friend's handâ“I know what you would do for me, and I am grateful. I'm truly sorry for what I said to you, butâ”
Caroline wasn't attending. A becoming flush had crept into her cheeks as she faced Patrick Danvers. “Is it true?”
“That I love you?” A wry smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. “Caroline, if I cannot have you, I don't want anyone.” He opened his arms and she moved into his embrace. “Of course I love youâ wanted you from the first.”
“But ⦠your wager ⦔
“Didn't have a thing to do with you after you refused me the first time. I never thought to collect on it, anyway. I'd have gone back to Charlie the day I made it, but I was too proud to let him crow.” He cradled her against him and ruffled her hair with his free hand. “Lud, girl, but you've led me a merry chaseâI thought I'd lost you to Rotherfield, that you wanted to be a countess. But then when Ju said you'd eloped with Bertie, I couldn't let you do it.”
“Oh, Patrick, I do love you,” she admitted mistily against his shoulder. “If you still want, I'll marry you.”
“If I still want ⦔ His arms closed tighter. “Ayeâ above all things.”
“Very affecting, I am sure.” Lenore Canfield pushed past the earl to face her daughter. “And now, miss, what is the meaning of this? I came on the information that you had eloped with Patrick. If you did not, then I demand to know what is going on!”
“Mama”âJuliana faced her mother resolutelyâ“I am not going to marry Albert Bascombe. You can send me to Crosslands to die on the shelf. You can starve me, if you wish, but you cannot make me marry him.” Her eyes lit on her erstwhile betrothed and she shook her head. “And it is not because he is a slowtop, either, because I do not believe he truly isâhe just thinks more slowly than the rest of us. What I am saying, Mama, is that I am crying off.”
“I say, Miss Canfield!” Bertie brightened. “Deuced good of you to do it!”
“Juliana, you have traveled miles alone with an unmarried gentleman. If Patrick is to marry Caroline, and you are not to marry Mr. Bascombe, you are quite ruined,” her mother announced flatly.
“Not quite.”
In unison, they turned to the earl, who stood apart surveying the rest of them with a sardonic twist to his sensuous mouth. “Having just been jilted ⦔ He looked over to where Caroline stood within Patrick Danvers' arms and nodded. “Yes, I forgive you, my dear, and wish you well.” He turned back to face Juliana, his black eyes twinkling and his expression softening measurably. “To repeat, having just been jilted, I find myself available. If Miss Canfield has it in her heart to reform this miserable rake, I should be happy to take her off your hands. I suspect she needs considerable guidance that you are unable to provide.”
“Marcus!” Juliana choked indignantly.
“Well, brat?” His eyes never left her face.
“I should like it excessively.”
Lady Lenore opened her mouth to protest and then shut it. “Well, I daresay she could do worse. At least, sir, you are not a dance master or a penniless half-pay soldier.”
“Exactly.”
“And as for you, Patrick, I can only hope that marriage will put an end to Devil Danvers. The family has suffered quite enough.” Lenore looked hard at her nephew and then sighed. “I might as well tell you, I suppose. Your Uncle Hugh has found a solicitor who believes that if every heir agrees, it is possible to break Vernon's will. You would receive only one-fifth of the estate, as it is to be divided per stirpes, or some such thing, butâ”
“It does not matter, Aunt. As for your first concern”âPatrick smoothed Caro's hair affectionatelyâ“I think you can safely say the Devil has met his match and is no more.”
Anita Mills lives in Kansas City, Missouri, with her husband, four children, sister, and seven cats in a restored turn of the century house. A former English and history teacher, she has turned a lifelong passion for both into a writing career.
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