Fated Folly (8 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Bailey

Tags: #historical romance, #regency romance, #clean romance, #romance novel, #sweet romance, #traditional romance, #sweet reads

BOOK: Fated Folly
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Exasperation overtook him. ‘For God's sake, Miss Carradale, why did you not come directly to me?'

‘
I wish now I had done so. In fact I threatened him with that. Lord Ashendon, I mean. I said he had a clear choice between taking me in his curricle or leaving me to come straight round to Charles Street. Then he informed me that you would hardly be home before three in the morning, which would have been too late.'

‘
As it happens, I was home at one.'

‘
Well, I don't know your habits, do I?'

‘
Go on. What happened next?'

‘
Well, in the end he could see that I was adamant, and he gave in.' Her eye kindled again. ‘Or so I thought. In any event, I sent Dobbin home and we set off in Ashendon's curricle. He brought me as far as this place and insisted that we get down while the horses were being changed. I entered the inn, and the next thing I knew, the ostler came in with a message to say—would you credit it?—that the gentleman regretted having to leave me so abruptly, but that he would return to escort me home in the morning.'

Rupert's mood darkened. ‘He left you here alone?'

She nodded. ‘He was very clever and I was excessively stupid to be taken in. He removed me very neatly from the danger zone, so that I was powerless to impede the runaways in any way. I could have killed him.'

So, too, could Rupert. But for quite another reason. Controlling his anger with a palpable effort, he reached out and lightly clasped Clare's wrist. ‘But, my dear child, did it not occur to you how you were compromising yourself with this rash adventure?'

‘
N-no, I d-didn't think of that,' she stammered, flushing a little. ‘All I cared for was to stop my brother.'

Sir Rupert took her embarrassment to be caused by the realisation of her own difficulties. He smiled, pressed his fingers tighter for an instant, and removed his hand.

‘
Have no fear. There is no harm done. None but myself knows anything of your involvement, and Ashendon will not talk, trust me. I will see you safe home before anything is known of your plight.'

Clare was altogether discomposed, but it had nothing to do with her situation. She had been acutely aware of the warmth of Sir Rupert's touch, and could still feel the imprint of his fingers on her wrist. But at this, she rose hastily.

‘
No, you can't do that. You must go on. There is still time for you to catch up with them. Don't concern yourself over me, pray. After all, Lord Ashendon said he would return.'

‘
Don't count on it,' Sir Rupert said grimly. ‘In any event, I am certainly not leaving you here by yourself.'

‘
But only consider—'

Clare's protest was drowned by the sound of footsteps and then the landlord appeared in the open doorway with a laden tray. Behind him, as he entered the room, was Lord Ashendon himself.

The landlord set down his burden, and Clare saw him look from one to the other of them and back to Ashendon standing in the doorway, consternation in his features which had turned quite pale. Within seconds, he had evidently mastered his emotions, for he spoke with all his usual urbanity, arousing Clare's instant disgust.

‘
Well, well, Cousin Rupert, this is a surprise.'

‘
Don't sham it so, Ashendon,' snapped Sir Rupert. ‘My advent cannot possibly be unexpected.'

Lord Ashendon opened his mouth to retort, and was forestalled by Clare, who had found her tongue and did not hesitate to use it to lashing effect.

‘
What do you mean by going off like that, you hateful wretch? Where have you been?'

‘
Nestling at another inn,' he returned in a bland tone that enraged Clare. His smile was supercilious. ‘I had, you see, every care for your reputation.'

‘
Stuff. You had a care only for your own scheming. And what, pray, of poor Pippa's reputation?'

Sir Rupert's hand on her shoulder checked her. ‘Softly, my child. Allow me to deal with this, if you please.'

Clare fell back a little and saw Sir Rupert jerk his head at the landlord, who beat a retreat that was clearly reluctant.

‘
Well, Cousin Rupert?' Ashendon demanded the instant the door shut, his tone a clear challenge.

‘
I shall not, at this time, Ashendon,' Sir Rupert said, in a voice cold with menace, ‘dwell on the question of your aiding and abetting my niece to flout my expressed prohibition, and thereby precipitating a sordid scandal.' He paused, his eyes narrowing. ‘Or perhaps that was your object?'

‘
But that is silly,' Clare cut in. ‘Surely any scandal involving you, Sir Rupert, must redound upon his own family.'

‘
Acute of you, Miss Carradale,' said Ashendon silkily. ‘I stand vindicated.'

‘
Nothing of the sort—' began Clare hotly.

‘
A moment, Clare,' interrupted Rupert, unconsciously using her given name again. ‘It is useless to argue with him. Ashendon, you do not pull the wool over my eyes, but I am less concerned with your part in Pippa's elopement at this moment, than the fact of your involving Miss Carradale.'

‘
She involved herself,' burst from Ashendon, jerked from his customary cynical pose. ‘A more infernal busybody I hope I may never meet!'

‘
No, don't answer him,' Rupert said sharply as Clare emitted an infuriated little growl. ‘A man of honour, Ashendon, would have returned Miss Carradale to her home instantly.'

‘
Yes, but he isn't a man of honour,' Clare put in furiously. ‘He's a scheming, lying—'

‘
When you have quite finished vilifying my character, Miss Carradale,' broke in Ashendon, his tone clipped with anger. ‘As I told you last night—'

He got no further. From the doorway behind him came an interruption. A female voice, raised in shocked recognition.

‘
Lord in heaven! Ashendon? And young Clare! Wolverley, too? What in the world—?'

Rupert silently cursed as he recognised Mrs Nateby. Of all people to find the three of them engaged in a row, she with her notoriously wagging tongue was the last he must have chosen. The vision sprang to his mind of this woman witnessing that near intimate conversation between himself and Clare the last time they had met. The cat was among the pigeons now. How the devil were they to come through this unscathed?

For a moment, an embarrassed silence held everyone still. As in a tableau, Clare could see herself, poised as it were between two gentlemen—neither related to her, both eligible—at a peculiarly early hour of the morning, in full evening attire, and without the vestige of a chaperon.

Colour flooded her face as she realised how it must look. At the same moment as she rushed into speech, so also did her dual escort.

‘
It is not how it appears.'

‘
The matter is readily explained.'

‘
Mrs Nateby, you are up betimes.'

This last, delivered by Lord Ashendon in a voice of haughty surprise, had the effect of drawing the lady's attention. He looked her up and down, noting the slight disorder of her obviously hastily thrown on chemise gown, and added, ‘An early start, ma'am?'

The lady let out a titter. ‘Oh no. Nateby—my boy, you know, I believe you are acquainted?—will never rise before nine. But I am such a poor sleeper. And hearing voices, I came down at once. So tedious to be cooped up in these places. One longs for company.'

Her avid eyes travelled over Clare and she cringed inside. It was obvious to the meanest intelligence that she had come down purely out of curiosity. Her next question confirmed it, had the matter been at all in doubt.

‘
You are staying here perhaps, Clare? Your—er—mama, too?'

Fire leapt into Clare's cheeks. ‘No—no, I—I came—that is…'

‘
Lady Carradale is expected at any moment,' Sir Rupert lied smoothly, to Clare's instant relief.

‘
Oh, indeed?' Mrs Nateby said, and Clare wanted to kill the woman for the thoughtful glance that swept from her head to her heels. She knew she looked dishevelled, but that was the least of it.

‘
And will she also be attired in her evening gown?'

‘
No, of course not,' Clare snapped unthinkingly. ‘I am only dressed like this because I came here last night with Lord Ashendon.'

‘
Did you so?' responded the lady, her smile unctuous. ‘I wonder why?'

‘
And what of your journey, Mrs Nateby?' put in Ashendon sweetly, as her eyes turned on him. ‘Are you on your way out of the capital?'

Clare could not have believed she might be grateful for Ashendon's sarcastic manner, but it served them little, for there was answering malice in the matron's pitying glance.

‘
No, indeed. We shall be in London today. We are returning from a visit to my dear mother, and a wheel came off the carriage.' She glanced at Clare and must have taken in the hope that leapt up into her bosom. ‘Oh, it is mended now. But it was ready only at such a late hour, you see, that we were obliged to stop here until morning. So unfortunate.'

‘
Very much so,' agreed Sir Rupert drily.

This brought Mrs Nateby's eyes fluttering around to him, an avid question in them. ‘And you, Sir Rupert? What brings you to this spot?'

‘
I am about to escort Miss Carradale home,' Sir Rupert said, taking charge, and thereby winning Clare's everlasting gratitude. But his intervention proved vain.

Mrs Nateby's eye brightened. ‘Oh, she is with you then?'

‘
She is certainly not with me,' put in Lord Ashendon, and Clare wanted to scratch his sneering face. ‘I stayed at the Red Lion.'

Sir Rupert shot him a look that spoke volumes, much to Clare's approval. She bit her tongue on hot words, praying that Mrs Nateby would refrain from drawing any further undesirable conclusions.

Just at that moment, there came the sound of the opening of the front door down the hall, and a frustrated voice.

‘
Bless me, the place is deserted. Host! Host, I say!'

‘
Papa!' cried Clare thankfully, and without thought, pushed past Mrs Nateby to gain access to the hallway. ‘Papa! It is I, Clare.'

Lord Carradale's myopic eyes blinked furiously as his daughter came up. ‘Clare? Hrumph. Bless me, girl, what do you mean by it? Where's that—um—rascally fellow Ashendon? Why you must needs elope with the fellow is a matter—hrumph—passing my comprehension.'

‘
Oh, Papa, hush,' begged Clare frantically, seizing hold of his lapels. In an undervoice, she added, ‘That horrid old tabby Mrs Nateby is here.'

‘
What's that? Hrumph.'

Fumbling for his spectacles in an inner recess of his coat, her father looked around and his eyes fixed on something over Clare's shoulder, by which she deduced that Mrs Nateby had entered the hall. He was still hunting for his eye glasses as she came up.

‘
It seems to be a question, Carradale,' she said with relish, ‘whether she has eloped with Ashendon or with Wolverley himself.'

‘
Eh?' gasped his lordship, at last finding his spectacles and ramming them on his nose.

‘
Oh, heavens,' moaned Clare.

‘
Don't be ridiculous,' came Sir Rupert's voice from down the hall.

But once more the front door opened, and Clare despaired completely as she saw her mother crowding in behind Papa, and staring in a bewildered way at the press of persons blocking the hallway.

‘
What in the world is all this, Carradale?' she demanded in a penetrating shriek. Then her glance found the beastly gossipmonger and, not much to Clare's surprise, her features whitened.

‘
Mrs Nateby,' she managed in a faint voice.

‘
Delighted to see you, my dear,' said the other lady. ‘And not a moment too soon, I apprehend.'

Clare saw her mama's face blench still further. The significance was plainly not lost on her. She poked a trembling finger towards the creature.

‘
Alethea Nateby, if you so much as whisper a syllable…'

‘
My dear.' The woman's expression and voice were pained. ‘You may rely on me implicitly.'

***

 

‘
We may rely on her implicitly to spread the word all over town,' said Lady Carradale bitterly, a little later.

It had not been easy to get rid of Mrs Nateby, but to Rupert's admiration, Lady Carradale had managed it at length, by dint of holding her in conversation while he, obedient to a frantic signal, ushered the rest of the party back into the coffee-room. Lady Carradale had then followed them and firmly shut the door in the other lady's face.

After that, it had taken patience, a new supply of coffee to replace the forgotten pot, and exhaustive explanations to unravel the ramifications of confusion in the minds of Clare's distracted parents. Both Rupert and Clare bore their part in this, but Ashendon, to Rupert's combined annoyance and relief, held aloof. Although if he imagined he would succeed in disassociating himself from the proceedings, he had much to learn of his cousin, Rupert decided vengefully.

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