Chapter 11

“Wherein Ella takes the reins.”

Patience gave a gasp as Ella negotiated a sharp bend, barely slowing her horses as she went. With a whoop of laughter, Ella urged them on faster as the road straightened, thoroughly enjoying herself.

The high-perch Phaeton and two glorious black horses had been a wedding gift to her from Mintie, and she was never more grateful. When she had driven up to the front of Finchfields, the lovely home of her newest friend, the lady had been agog at the sight of her. It had been rather enjoyable.

Clad in a carriage dress of deep plum velvet with a hussar style cap that sported white feathers, dipped at the ends in the same plum colour, Ella knew she was the height of style.

“What a glorious day,” Patience said, tipping her head back to enjoy the spring sunshine on her face. “Thank you so much for inviting me.”

“I was never more pleased, I assure you,” Ella said, meaning it. Patience was a good few years older than her and had experienced her own taste of scandal when she’d eloped with August. That her new friend was sympathetic to Ella’s circumstances was reassuring.

“It’s been so strange since I married Oscar. I… I spent so much time in his and my brother’s company before and yet since we married….”

She gave a shrug, wondering if she ought to be so confiding in her new friend, yet there was something about Patience that invited intimacy, and she couldn’t pretend Oscar hadn’t run away. It was the talk of the ton. Ella felt sure she could trust her.

“You’ve not heard from him since he left?”

There was understanding in her friend’s words and Ella shook her head, concentrating on the road to keep her wounded feelings from rising to the surface. “No. Not a word.”

Patience pursed her lips. “You know, sometimes you have to take a man’s attention.”

She smiled at Ella’s snort of amusement but carried on.

“You must bring him home, Ella. If he’s off pretending he hasn’t got a wife, nothing will ever change.”

“I don’t disagree,” Ella replied, slowing the horses as a farmer with his cart became visible up ahead. “But how am I supposed to do that?”

Patience subsided into silence for a moment. “Did you hear, Darling Bertie has moved into the Marquess of Henshaw’s property at Bury St Edmunds? I believe he’ll be there for the summer.”

The words were nonchalant but, Ella wasn’t foolish enough to believe they weren’t pertinent to the subject at hand.

Ella turned and blinked at her friend in astonishment. What on earth was she suggesting? “Of course I’ve heard. Apart from me, it’s the only thing people are talking about.”

“They say the marquess sent him there to keep him out of his hair, and out of trouble. By all accounts, it isn’t working and he’s up to his usual tricks. He’s holding a masked ball. All the most fashionable people will be there. Poets and writers and artists….” Patience left the words hanging in the air.

“It’s not a terribly respectable affair though, is it?” Ella frowned at Patience. Surely she wasn’t suggesting….

“Oh, no, not at all, but I shall go with August to escort me so it’s not so scandalous. Would you like to come with us?”

Ella gaped at Patience and then hurried back to focusing on her horses, who were fidgeting at having to slow down.

“I… I… don’t know.”

“Well, you became notorious when you stole your sister’s husband, and he’s embellished your reputation by leaving you all alone within weeks of your marriage. At this point you’ve little to lose, and a duchess will always rise above minor scandal, so you may as well enjoy yourself.”

Ella chanced another glance at Patience, who laid a reassuring hand on her arm.

“August and I will be there to keep things respectable, so it’s not that big a risk.”

“No,” Ella mused, turning the idea over in her mind. “And I suppose if I am enjoying myself a great deal, I’ll stop mooning over Oscar.”

Patience nodded, her smile approving. “Exactly, and you can guarantee the minute you do stop mooning over him will be the exact moment the wretch will come home. Perhaps it might do him good to see how well you get along without him.”

For a moment Ella didn’t speak, biting her lip with concentration while she eased the Phaeton past the farmer and his heavily laden cart once the lane widened enough to attempt the manoeuvre. If she were honest it was not the horses that held her attention so much as Patience’s words, which seemed to echo much of what Mintie had suggested.

“Yes,” she said, allowing the impulsive nature she had promised to hold in check just a little leeway. Mintie had determined that she ought to become all the rage, so she may as well give it a go. As Patience said, there was very little to lose.

***

Oscar threw down his cards. He’d lost badly tonight but he couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to care.

“I need some air.”

Bertie nodded and gathered the cards, dealing to the remaining players. The private gaming rooms at Lady West’s were exclusive and high stakes only. The elegant parlour was lit with dozens of candles and wreathed with cigar smoke.

Oscar rose, his movements a little stiff after this morning’s physical exertion. Roberts had become a hard task master. He knew the trainer believed Blackehart would crucify him, but Oscar was damned if he’d make it too easy a job. Even the great Mr Jackson himself had come to look over Oscar’s form and give him so tips. Things must be desperate.

He made his way to the back of the house, hoping to get some fresh air in the gardens. One of Lady West’s footmen opened the door to him. No doubt he was on guard to dissuade those fellows who had lost heavily from leaving via the backdoor before they’d settled their debts. Happily, Rothborn’s credit was all but limitless and they knew he was not the kind to run away from his debts. A cold, sick feeling stirred in his guts as he thought about that statement.

This morning’s scandal sheet had been no different from others he’d been reading of late. Ella, just as he had predicted, was swimming the dangerous waters of the ton like a lovely mermaid. He’d frowned over reports of her fashionable attire, and over a woman whose beauty was blooming so she even rivalled her lovely sister. Could they really be speaking of his little Bug?

One thing was clear, she would never sink, had never been in any danger of sinking. He told himself he ought to be pleased as any guilt he felt over leaving her alone was clearly misplaced. She didn’t need him.

Instead he felt hollow, and horribly lonely. Bertie was barely speaking to him, and he’d probably hurt Ella so much she would never forgive him. He cursed himself for the stupid fight with Blackehart. God, he was a fool.

The cool evening air wrapped about him as he headed out into the gardens and sat down on the steps that led from the terrace down to the lawn. He’d only been there a second when the soft sound of sobbing reached his ears.

With a frown, he got to his feet and searched the garden until he found the source of such sorrowful crying.

A little girl was sitting under the canopy of a large rhododendron bush in a rather dishevelled white nightgown, her knees drawn up to her chest. She clasped an ugly looking doll in one hand whilst the other wiped her tears, large, frightened eyes staring as Oscar in alarm.

“Hello there, don’t be afraid,” he said, trying to make himself as small and unthreatening as he could as he peered under the branches. “Are you all right?”

The girl wiped her nose on her sleeve and blinked back her tears, staring at him with misgiving. She was perhaps seven or eight years old, with long brown hair tied back in a loose plait.

“No,” she said, her voice faint. “I… I can’t get back inside. Nanny has shut the window I climbed out of and Smith is guarding the back door. I’ll never be able to sneak past him and I’ll be in such trouble when they find out.”

“Oh, that is a fix,” Oscar agreed, sympathetic to her plight. “Why are you out here, though?”

“I left Jane in the tree house at the end of the garden and forgot until it was bedtime. Nanny said it was too dark to fetch her but… but I couldn’t sleep thinking of her down there, all alone… in the dark.” The last words were all but whispered as her wide eyes scanned the blackness of the night all around them.

It occurred to Oscar that the girl had been terrified to come outside and fetch her doll but had done so because she couldn’t bear not to. All at once he remembered Ella at the same age and knew she would have done just the same thing. His heart gave an uneven lurch in his chest.

“How brave you are,” he said, smiling at her.

The girl mustered a little smile of her own, though it was less than convincing. “Not really. I was very frightened.”

“That makes it all the braver,” Oscar replied, his voice firm. “What’s your name?”

“Millicent Faversham,” she said, clutching her doll to her chest and shivering a little. “I’m eight.”

“And you’re staying with Lady West?”

She nodded, and Oscar saw how cold she was as her slight frame trembling under the nightgown.

“She’s my aunt.”

Oscar struggled out of his tight-fitting coat and passed it to the girl under the branches of the bush. “Here, put this on while I figure out how to get you back indoors.”

“You’ll help me?” she asked, perking up at once and staring at him in wonder.

“I will,” he said, nodding as he thought it over.

“Oh, thank you!”

Oscar stared at the little girl, wrapped in his coat, a trusting expression in her eyes as she waited for him to fix it. His throat tightened. Ella had used to look at him like that, as though he could have fetched the moon from the sky if she’d asked him to.

“Why do you look so sad?”

He looked down again to find Millicent staring at him with concern.

Oscar shook his head. “Oh, nothing. It’s—” He stopped before some glib remark tripped off his tongue. Instead, he opted for the truth. “Actually, it’s because you remind me of someone. A dear friend of mine. I miss her.”

“Is she the same age as me?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No, she’s… she’s not a child.”

The words sank in as he remembered what else the scandal sheets had said, implying that she had Ranleigh dancing attendance on her. Was he her lover? The sick feeling in his guts intensified.

“Why don’t you go and see her, then? If you miss her? You’re a grown up, you can do anything you want to.”

Oscar took a breath and shook his head. “It’s not as simple as that and… and I’m not even sure if she would want to see me. I… I’m afraid I hurt her feelings.”

Large, serious eyes stared at him and Oscar felt as though the child were looking into his soul.

“But you’re sorry for it?” she asked, frowning.

He nodded, the lump in his throat thickening as he realised just how sorry he was.

“Well, then,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. “Friends forgive you if you’re sorry.”

He laughed then and nodded. “Yes, that’s true, and she has been such a good friend. I’m not sure I ever deserved it, either. You know, you are very much like her, though. She would have said exactly that.”

Millicent beamed at him, looking pleased with herself.

“Now then, young lady. How are we to get you back inside, with your nanny none the wiser?”

The little girl’s face fell as her attention returned to her own dilemma.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice faint.

Oscar stood and regarded the back of the house with a frown. “Which window did you escape from?”

“The kitchen window, but someone shut it. I bet it was Nanny,” she said with a bitter sigh. “She’s always worried about drafts.”

“Whose balcony is that?” he asked, pointing at a little Juliet balcony where one of the glass doors remained ajar.

“Oh, that’s the nursery,” Millicent said, crawling out from under the bush to get a better look. “The maid leaves the doors open to air it after she’s cleaned. Nanny will be after her for forgetting to shut them again, but I’d never dare to climb up there.”

She brushed the dirt from her dusty nighty and cuddled her doll to her chest. Oscar’s coat hung to the ground from her narrow shoulders and looked a little the worse for wear already.

“Do you think you could hold onto me if I climbed up there?” Oscar asked her.

There was a thick wisteria vine scrambling up the back of the house and some wrought iron trellising. He thought he could get up there easily enough, if the girl was brave enough to hold on.

Her eyes went wide as she stared from Oscar to the balcony and back again.

“I… I… suppose I m-might,” she said, biting her lip and looking anxious.

“That’s the spirit,” Oscar replied, grinning at her.

“Would your friend let you carry her up there?” she asked, looking ever more dubious.

“Yes.” Oscar nodded. “She’s the bravest person I know. Far braver than I am,” he added in an undertone. “And she’s not just my friend, she’s my wife.”

“Oh!” Millicent said, surprised by this information. “Then you must certainly go home and apologise to her.”

Her tone was severe as she looked at him and folded her arms over her doll.

Chastened, Oscar nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes. You’re right, I know you are. I tell you what…. If you are brave enough to hold on while I climb up there. I promise you, I’ll go home and apologise to my wife.”

The little girl chewed at her lip for a moment and then gave a sharp nod. “Deal,” she said, holding out one hand.

Oscar shook it, as solemn as she, before kneeling on the ground. “On you get, then. Oh, and give me Jane, or you’ll drop her.”

He tucked the doll inside his waistcoat for safety and waited until Millicent’s arms wrapped tight about his neck, her legs clinging to his sides.

“Here we go, then. Hold on, and don’t be frightened.”

To his relief, it was an easy climb, though his already aching limbs protested a little. He stepped over the balcony and lowered Millicent to the ground.

“Can you get to your bedroom from here?” he whispered.

The girl nodded, beaming at him. “Yes, thank you so much.” She reached up and tugged at his neck and Oscar leant down to receive a kiss on the cheek. “You’re very gallant,” she said, grinning up at him. “Like a knight from a fairy story.”

Oscar snorted and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s even close to being true, but I promise to try harder to live up to that ideal from now on.”

He ruffled her hair and climbed over the balcony, finding his footing in the wisteria as he heard the unwelcome sound of the back-door opening.

The footman, Smith, and Bertie appeared just as he jumped to the ground, and realised the doll was stuffed up his waistcoat.

Ah.

They looked at him as Oscar began a series of jumping jacks, to make it look as if he hadn’t just dropped from the side of the house but had, in fact, been exercising.

The two men stared, open-mouthed.

“What the devil are you playing at?” Bertie demanded, wide eyed with alarm. “Have you run mad?”

“Mad?” Oscar repeated, praying the doll didn’t slip from beneath his waistcoat. He stopped his exertions as both Smith and Bertie looked at him askance. “No, no, just… big match coming up,” he wheezed, feeling exhausted. “Not a… a… moment to lose.”

“So, you’re out here… exercising?” The scepticism in his friend’s voice was hard to miss.

“Yes,” Oscar agreed, realising that his coat was still in the possession of a small girl. Well, of all the ridiculous….

Bertie gave him hard stare, the one he reserved for people he believed to be bamming him.

“As you say,” Bertie replied, clearly believing him not at all. He gave a sad shake of his head. “Come along, Rothborn, you’re either foxed or touched in your attic and I don’t much care which, but I want to go to bed and I’m damned if I’m walking. Your carriage is waiting for us.”

“Righty ho, lead on,” Oscar said, his tone jovial as he gestured to Bertie.

Bertie narrowed his eyes and gave Oscar one last mystified look of suspicion before turning back to the door with Smith following, looking equally bewildered.

Oscar turned on his heel and lanced the doll through the air where it landed with a clatter on the balcony just as his coat flew from the nursery door and landed on his head. Oscar snatched at it just in time to see Bertie and Smith turn back and stare at him.

“Forgot my coat,” he said, holding the crumpled article out and flushing a little as he rushed past them and back into the building.