Lady in Blue (29 page)

The viscount shuffled his feet. “Don’t think I haven’t considered that, Bryndle, a thousand times. But I’ve no way to take care of her. I can barely support myself. And before you offer, I will not take your charity, not even for Beth. She wouldn’t respect me if I did.”

“As it happens, Lace, I am somewhat overextended in the charity department and have no intention of taking on another dependent. No, I rather suspect you’ll have to work.”

“W
-work?
”
He looked stunned. “But I don’t know how to
do
anything. Lead a cavalry charge, perhaps, but even if Boney escaped again and raised another army, I haven’t the blunt to buy a commission.”

Isabella laughed. “You could be a shepherd, Robbie. Surely you have wit enough for that.”

Lacey turned on her. “Easy for you to say, now that you’re plump in the pockets. All you had to do was marry a rich man who got himself killed in the war.”

Bryn stepped between them. “Children, children. Our tempers are on edge, but let us concentrate on the problem at hand.”

Lacey snorted. “You’ve got it all worked out, don’t you? I know that smug attitude.”

Bryn poured himself a glass of brandy. “In fact, I do. River’s End must be restored—I promised my father I’d see to it—and you are the ideal man to take charge of the project. I like what you did at Clouds, and I’ll pay you well to do the same for the Caradoc estate.”

“You want to live there?” Lacey asked incredulously.

“Absolutely not.” Bryn took a deep breath. Ghosts walked at River’s End. He’d managed to escape everything but his memories, and he had no intention of ever setting foot in the place again. “One day my heir will claim his birthright,” he said with deliberate indifference, “so I’m committed to seeing the castle brought to its former state. Better than that. Make it splendid, Lace. I expect it will take several years, and meantime you and Elizabeth can live at your own house, with your mother.”

Isabella hugged him. “That’s perfect, Bryndle. Mama has been too much alone, and she won’t come to London however much I beg her to do so. You have found the solution to all our troubles.”

He wasn’t so sure of that. “Assuming Landry is watching your house,” he said, “we have to get Elizabeth safely out of here without arousing his suspicions. So long as she’s in my company I don’t expect he’ll interfere. Izzy, where could we take her tonight? Who is hosting a party?”

While she ran upstairs to check the invitations, he turned to Lacey. “For now, go to your lodgings and pack whatever you need. I’ll send a servant to collect your luggage, with instructions on what to do next.”

Isabella returned with a handful of cards, and he sorted through them. “The Esterhazy ball,” he decided. “Landry won’t be admitted there. Izzy, make sure Elizabeth is dressed for a dance, not an elopement. I’ll pick the two of you up at nine o’clock.”

Lacey glowered at him. “Do you intend to explain or go on snapping orders?”

“Both.” Bryn put his hand on Lacey’s shoulder. “So far I’ve only a sketchy idea how to bring this off, but in a few hours you and Elizabeth will be on your way to Scotland with Landry none the wiser. Trust me.”

“May I at least speak to her first? Make sure she really wants to do this?”

“Better we leave together, I think. Laughing, so the watchdogs suspect nothing, and
now
because I need the time to make arrangements. Come along, Lace. You’ll have several hundred miles between here and Gretna to woo your bride.”

“Do you think we were followed?” Elizabeth asked nervously as the earl’s crested carriage drew up at the Esterhazy mansion.

“Possible, but unlikely.” Bryn handed Isabella out of the coach and turned to help Elizabeth. “So long as you are with me, your father will make no trouble. I’m what he most hopes for, after all.”

With a lady on each arm, he mounted the marble steps and joined the throng waiting to pass through the receiving line. Although reasonably sure he’d accounted for every hazard, he reviewed his plan again, reflecting that he had gained some tactical experience smuggling Clare to and from Ernestine’s house. On the other hand, he remembered with an interior groan, Ernie had found him out.

But this time he’d taken greater care, because the consequences of discovery were more disastrous than a scolding from the duchess.

By now Lacey was well on his way to the obscure inn where Bryn had spent the weekend. It seemed eons ago. Within the hour, Bryn and Elizabeth would make their way out the back door to the mews where a coach waited. It would carry them by a circuitous route to another unmarked coach laden with the couple’s luggage. In his pocket was enough money to see Lacey to Scotland and home again. Tomorrow, Bryn would dispatch a bank draft to Heydon Manor, to get Lace started on the restoration of River’s End.

He’d sent a message to Max Peyton, asking him to appear at the ball so Isabella would have someone to escort her home, and another to Princess Esterhazy, requesting that she admit Peyton.

He had decided to accompany Elizabeth to the inn and make his way back to London from there. It occurred to him that he should have told Lacey to take a horse from his own stable, because God only knew what sort of transportation that thatch-gallows had devised. Damned if he wanted to be stranded at the Black Sheep again, at the mercy of whatever ramshackle vehicle might pass by in the middle of the night.

Swearing under his breath at the oversight, he found himself face-to-face with Princess Esterhazy.

“You honor us, Lord Caradoc,” she said, lifting her hand for his salute. “We have seen too little of you this season.”

“I could scarcely resist what will surely be its crowning event,” he said politely.

“Your Mr. Peyton is somewhere about.” She lifted a curious brow. “Handsome devil, with those unusual eyes. From where did you conjure him?”

Swallowing his impatience, Bryn produced a smile. “He is lately come from India, I believe. Thank you for inviting him, but for the rest you must quiz him yourself. I daresay he is keen to dance with his gracious hostess.” Before she could pursue the interrogation, he bowed and moved on.

Just outside the ballroom, he drew the ladies aside. “Izzy, you are to stay here as long as possible. Be among the last guests to leave. By the time you return to my carriage, anybody watching this house will be hours too late figuring out that Elizabeth and I have already gone.” He turned to Elizabeth, who was chewing her lower lip as she peered into the ballroom. Looking for her father, he suspected.

“I’ll lead you out for a dance, my dear, in case your father has planted a spy. But I doubt there is reason for concern.”

“He hasn’t many friends who would be invited here,” she agreed, somewhat breathlessly. “But still—”

He put a finger to her lips. “Don’t worry. I shall be with you all the way, until you are delivered into Lacey’s protection. You are perfectly safe.”

She gazed solemnly into his eyes. “You are so kind to me, Lord Caradoc. And for no reason I can imagine. How shall I ever be able to thank you?”

He lifted a hand. “I assure you, it is my pleasure to be of service. And perhaps you can keep Lacey out of trouble. I’ve not managed to do so, but I expect you will. Now smile and pretend you adore me. So long as your father imagines there is hope you have snagged a rich suitor, we have bought time.”

“Here you are at last.” Max Peyton appeared at his shoulder, regarding the ladies with an expectant smile.

Elizabeth must be wholly besotted with Lace, Bryn thought as he performed the introductions, to be so oblivious of Peyton’s dazzling smile. Isabella, on the other hand, had a look in her eyes he’d never seen before. She positively glowed as Peyton brushed his lips over her wrist.

With obvious reluctance, Max let go her hand and drew Bryn aside. “I’ve done some checking,” he whispered. “Landry has hired any number of scoundrels to keep tabs on his daughter. Paid them with promises, I’m sure, because when he came to me this morning he was clearly at his last prayers. Keep your eyes open. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

“Nor I. But there is a sword concealed in this cane, and both coaches waiting for us are manned by two armed footmen. Should there be any trouble when you take the countess home, I stowed two loaded pistols under the carriage seat.”

Peyton grinned. “Quite a beauty, the Lady Isabella.”

“Proceed at your own risk,” Bryn warned. “She’s more than a handful.”

They rejoined the ladies, and after the opening minuet Bryn took Elizabeth’s hand and led her down the back stairs, through the kitchen, and across a deserted alley into the mews where the first coach waited.

“No sign of trouble,” said a brawny young footman as he lowered the steps. “We’ve watched the alley, but nobody is lurking about.”

A few minutes later, they drew up on a deserted side street, where the transfer to the second coach was accomplished without incident. Bryn was almost certain they hadn’t been followed, but even so he ordered the footmen to keep close watch on the road as they drove out of the city.

Elizabeth sat quietly, lost in her own thoughts for nearly an hour until the coach made a sudden turn, proceeded a short way, and came to a stop. Her gaze shot to Bryn’s.

“Not to worry,” he said, drawing the heavy curtains over both windows. “We’ll wait here a few minutes, to make certain no one is on our trail. The footmen have shuttered the lanterns and gone back to the main road to see what passes by.”

“You have thought of everything,” she said in an awestruck voice.

“At the least, you may be sure that when you and Lace are on your way, there will be nothing to fear. This should be a romantic adventure, my dear, not a flight in terror. Concentrate on the road ahead, not the one behind you.”

She relaxed visibly and gave him a sweet smile. “I quite like your Clare, my lord. Will you bring her to visit us?”

“Perhaps.” His fingers tightened on the cane. “When you are next in London. I have no wish to go near River’s End.”

“Then we will come to see you.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, he pulled out his watch. “Nearly two hours, I expect, before we reach the inn. Sleep if you can, Elizabeth. You’ve a long night ahead of you.”

Twenty minutes later, a footman rapped on the panel. “One carriage,” he reported, “only women inside.”

Bryn pulled the curtains and nodded. “Thank you, Rafferty. Let’s go on, then.”

The driver soon found a place to turn around, and the coach returned to the country byroad that led to the inn.

Robert was waiting outside, an anxious look on his face. When Elizabeth alighted he rushed to take her in his arms, and Bryn turned his back while they kissed each other for what seemed like a very long time.

Finally Lacey acknowledged his presence by clearing his throat. “Er, Bryndle, the horse I hired to get here went lame two miles back. I had to walk the rest of the way. Maybe he’ll be all right by tomorrow morning.”

Wheeling, Bryn glared at him. “You mean I’m stuck here for the night? Dammit, Lace, why didn’t you come in some sort of reliable vehicle?”

“Couldn’t afford it,” he replied with a shrug. “I presume you’ve brought money to see me to Scotland.”

Bryn reached into his pocket and tossed him a leather wallet. “There’s enough in here to cover post-horses and all the rest,” he said crossly. “I’ve sent a servant ahead to reserve rooms and secure a change of nags at proper intervals. The driver knows where to stop on the way, and you can improvise on the road home to Heydon Manor. Stay there out of my sight for several months, if you know what’s good for you.”

Lacey smiled at Elizabeth. “I do,” he said softly. Then he shook Bryn’s hand. “Sorry to leave you stranded, old man, but you’re only twenty miles from London. Sooner or later you’ll get home.” With a grin, he helped Elizabeth into the coach and jumped in after her. “For what you’ve done, I owe you my life,” he said out the window.

A fat lot of good that will do me, Bryn thought, as they pulled away.

The innkeeper assured him that in the morning he’d send his son to fetch a reliable mount, and meantime his lordship was welcome to the best room at the Black Sheep and a bottle of vintage port. Declining the wine, Bryn wearily mounted the stairs, suspecting from the silence and the darkened rooms that he was the only guest.

He stripped and climbed between the sheets atop a lumpy mattress, breathing a sigh of relief. Tomorrow he would confront Landry and make certain the whoreson never troubled Elizabeth again, even if that required putting a bullet through his head. One way or another this business would be settled, and he could forget everything but what mattered most to him.

Clare.

The picnic by the river seemed a lifetime ago, with all that had happened since. He buried his face in the pillow, trying to recapture the happiest hours of his life.

As the memories flooded back, they carried him into dreams where he made love to her again and again.

IT WAS LATE afternoon before Bryn arrived in London. He’d forgot to tell the innkeeper to wake him up and had slept until well past noon. After plodding twenty miles on a swaybacked mare, he was resolved that Landry could wait another day before being informed his daughter had eloped.

First, he wanted to see Clare and tell her what he’d done. She would approve, he thought. After a quick bath, shave, and change of clothes at St. James’s, he set out for Clouds with a bouquet of daffodils and a sense of pleasurable anticipation.

That was quickly dashed when Charley Cassidy opened the door with a despondent look on his face. “She’s gone, milord,” he said.

Bryn stared at him blankly.

“Went for a walk with her maid and didn’t come home,” Charley explained. “Amy came in a few minutes ago. I dunno what happened. She’s with Mrs. Beales.”

Bryn shoved past him, bellowing for the housekeeper.

Mrs. Beales met him in the salon, her thin lips tight. “You had better sit down,” she advised.

Suddenly terrified that Landry had somehow made off with Clare, Bryn grabbed the woman by the shoulders and shook her. “What the hell is going on?”

Pulling away, she pointed to a chair.

After a moment, he muttered an oath and dropped obediently onto the cushion. “Tell me. And make it fast.”

She folded her arms. “This afternoon Miss Easton said she wished to take her kitten for an outing in the park. She appeared somewhat unsettled, although I didn’t know why at the time. Her maid went with her and has just now returned. It seems that Miss Easton hired a hackney a few blocks from here and instructed Amy to occupy herself for several hours before coming home. I was questioning her when you arrived.”

“That’s all she knows? Clare got in a hack and disappeared?”

“This may explain why.” She crossed to a table, picked up a newspaper, and tossed it to him. “Miss Easton was reading it during lunch.”

He caught the paper in midair. It was folded open, and he saw coffee stains on the page. He scanned rapidly until he encountered his own name.

The Earl of Caradoc is honored to announce his betrothal to the Honorable Elizabeth Landry, daughter of Lord Landry.

“I’ll tear the bastard to pieces and feed him to the goats,” Bryn swore, crushing the paper in his hands.

“You might have told her,” Mrs. Beales said acidly. “Not left her to read it in the
Times.
”

He threw the housekeeper a scathing look. “It’s all a humbug. Landry planted this item to force my hand. And it might have worked, devil take him, but he was too late. Last night, with my assistance and blessing, Elizabeth eloped with Robert Lacey.”

Her face softened. “Ought to have known you would never serve the young lady such a turn. Sorry I jumped to conclusions, milord. Will you be wishing to speak with Amy now?”

He nodded, slumping in the chair with his forearms on his knees as Mrs. Beales left the room. If only he’d thought to send Clare a message, telling her what he was about. But he had been wrapped up in plans for the elopement and had expected to be at Clouds before morning to explain in person.

It was easy to imagine how she felt. After the picnic, he’d promised to spend the night with her and then dispatched Charley to tell her something had come up. When she read the notice in the
Times,
she doubtless assumed that the “something” was a proposal to Elizabeth.

He knew Clare thought him selfish and manipulative. Which he was. And it certainly looked as if he had seized the perfect opportunity to secure the Talgarth line, confident his mistress would not leave him after what they shared in that silken pavilion beside the river. She must think he had staged the elaborate display only to win her over before arranging his marriage to another woman.

Clare had no reason to trust him, because he gave her none. He never confided in her. For that matter, he never confided in anyone. What he felt was none of their business, and other people could take him or leave him—so long as they didn’t get in his way.

He released a painful breath. That wasn’t the case with Clare, to be sure, but he was not in the habit of explaining himself. Or of confronting his own feelings, let alone finding words to describe them.