Chapter Six

 

 

Encouraged by the fact that the Duke seemed neither shocked nor prurient, but simply intrigued, Sophie took a deep breath and began the tale that in four years she had told to no one outside the family. It was surprisingly easy to talk to him in the shadows where he could not see her expression or the heat in her cheeks. It had always seemed such a shocking thing to have happened, but now, as she spoke, she found she was more embarrassed at her own youthful foolishness than at the impropriety of it all.

‘I was seventeen and I fell head over heels in love. At least, I believed I had. He was a young man, a neighbour of ours. My brother, who is – oh dear, how best can I describe George to you so you will understand?’

‘A pompous ass who is more concerned with his own comfort and respectability than with your happiness, if I am any judge,’ the Duke supplied, grinning again. ‘I have met your brother, you see.’

‘Yes, that is exactly right, poor George. I am sure he means well but he has very little imagination, and he does so hate having to exert himself with anything unpleasant.’ Before he could reply to that, Sophie added impetuously, ‘Unlike you, Your Grace, George has never aspired to be a rake, or even the slightest bit unconventional or dashing, so it must have been very difficult to apply his imagination to my feelings. It seems to me that only a rake could think up such a shocking, but practical, solution to his sister’s impending ruin as to kidnap her.’

Moonlight was flickering through the trees and she thought his smile broadened. ‘My maiden aunts certainly tell me that I am a rake, and to humour them I have always admitted to being one when charged with it, but I was not aware it made one particularly inventive. But we were talking about you, pray do not change the subject. I am waiting to hear how you came to be ruined.’

He leaned back against the silk squabs of the carriage and folded his arms, clearly prepared to be entertained. ‘Well, Miss Haydon? Do not seek to deflect me, I am waiting for you to continue your intriguing tale of scandal and high romance.’

Sophie took a deep breath. The semi-darkness was made for confidences it seemed and, strangely, the Duke inspired a feeling of trust in her. His teasing air diminished neither feeling, in fact, as the strange journey continued, she was beginning to feel as though she had known Hal Wyatt all her life.

‘You see, my brother George did not approve of Henry – that was the name of the young man I believed I was in love with – and forbade me his company. George would not even receive him, never mind hear his proposal of marriage. So of course, being so much in love, Henry and I resolved to run away together to Gretna Green and be married.’ She bit her underlip as she paused, then added, ‘Well, I thought I was in love, but I have wondered since if Henry was not motivated by my fortune. It is quite respectable, although I know I should not say so.’

She saw the flash of his smile and laughed despite herself. ‘Oh dear, it proved to be such a fiasco and not at all like the books of romance one reads. In fact, I believe that girls should be prevented from reading such tales, for they give a very false impression of reality. Or perhaps it was simply that Henry was a bad choice. You know, Your Grace, I have since come to the conclusion that if one is to elope it should only be with a man of decision and resource. And one with a sense of humour.’ Like you, she thought wistfully.

‘Am I to deduce that the unfortunate Henry had none of these desirable attributes?’ The Duke enquired. He crossed his legs and settled back more comfortably in the corner of the carriage.

‘No, not a single one.’ Sophie sighed at the memory of her disastrous suitor. ‘And it transpired that he could afford only a coach and two, even though we were making for the Scottish border. It would have taken days.’

‘How very ill judged of him,’ the Duke remarked dryly. ‘Quite the last place to choose if eloping on a strict budget. Personally, I never embark on elopements which take me more than ten miles out of Town. Leaving aside the question of cost, the nervous strain upon the lady is considerable, rendering the entire enterprise far too fatiguing.’

Sophie flashed him a dubious glance, then realised he was teasing her again and suppressed a gasp of laughter. ‘Well, by the time the first pair of horses, which were poor beasts to begin with, were tired and we reached a posting house, Henry had discovered that he had left his roll of banknotes behind and had only enough money for one more change of horses. So we decided that the best plan was to stay the night at that inn and for him to return to Town the next morning to secure additional funds for us to continue our journey.’ She hesitated and added, ‘I have wondered since whether that was an untruth and he had not forgotten them at all.’

‘More than likely,’ the Duke said laconically.

‘But the landlord became suspicious that we were runaways,’ Sophie continued, ‘and he was very insolent, placing us in the smokiest little chamber you could imagine. That was when I discovered that Henry was capable neither of mastering the situation nor of seeing its ridiculous side and making the best of it. My eyes were quite opened. It was a salutary experience,’ she added

She thought that the Duke’s shoulders shook somewhat, but if he was laughing he managed to control his voice to say, ‘It must have been. And then I suppose the young fool decided that that was the ideal moment to make love to you?’

‘How did you guess?’ Really, the Duke was showing almost supernatural powers of understanding. ‘Naturally I had expected to occupy a separate bedchamber until we were married, so I was very shocked when he became so...er...amorous. But Henry said we could not afford two rooms, and that my scruples were too nice. He pointed out that I was already ruined, and that I might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.’ Suddenly shy, Sophie looked out of the window, unable to meet the Duke’s eyes. ‘Henry became very pressing.’

After a moment she rallied and added with a small smile, ‘Can you imagine an atmosphere less conducive to romance? Surely, Your Grace, not even the most hardened rake would attempt to seduce a young lady who was cold, tired and not a little apprehensive, in a smoky chamber with an ill-aired bed, and before she had had any supper?’

‘I can assure you, Miss Haydon, the more hardened the rake, the less likely he is to expose a young lady to discomfort. It is hardly the way to a lady’s affections nor, I imagine, to a successful seduction. But please continue, what did you do?’

‘I boxed his ears and threatened him with the poker, of course. What else could I do? Even if I were still in love with him I would not behave in such an abandoned manner as to yield to his advances.’ Sophie sat up, quivering with remembered indignation. ‘You should have heard him howl and rant! I do believe by then he was ready to box my ears in return, because nothing was turning out as he expected. And, of course, everybody in the place heard him and came running.

‘When George arrived the whole inn was in turmoil. Oh, my brother tried to cover it up, but his manner made everyone even more suspicious and then old Lady Westmoreland stopped in her travelling carriage to change horses and George was convinced she had seen us. After that, of course, I was quite ruined. George sent me off into the country in disgrace, and there I stayed until six months ago when Lavinia decided I could make myself useful to her. I rarely go out; George insists that I attend only the most respectable, quiet gatherings with the family. He says if I attempt to go into Society my Disgrace will be remembered and I will bring dishonour upon the family name and ruin my nieces’ chances.’

‘The man’s a fool,’ the Duke said contemptuously. ‘All he has done is to shut you away needlessly. And as a rake...’ his voice softened ‘...I should know that young ladies as beautiful and intelligent as you are in short enough supply in Society as it is.’

‘But the scandal, Your Grace.’ Sophie tried to ignore the warm glow his words gave her.

‘What scandal?’ He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. ‘There was none and there is none. Lady Westmoreland is an eccentric old trout, to put it mildly, and cares for nothing but her food and her smelly lap dogs. She would not notice if your seducer was making love to you on the steps of her carriage, and would care even less. I have to tell you, Miss Haydon, reluctant though I am to criticise your brother, that he has handled this very badly. The man’s a fool.’

Sophie knew she should protest at the insult to George, but instead she found herself agreeing wholeheartedly. ‘Oh, I know he is. I think Lady Elizabeth is fortunate to have a brother who is a rake, it makes you far more understanding about things’'

The Duke grimaced. ‘She may not find me very understanding when I catch up with her, the little minx. I have spoiled her, I know, but she is such an innocent under all her high spirits and mischief.’ The amusement was gone from his voice and his face looked bleak in the moonlight. ‘I just hope she has not done something irretrievable and finds herself tied to a man who has neither prospects nor character.’ He glanced out of the window. ‘We are nearly at Portman Square. But before we arrive, there is one thing I must know. What happened to Henry? Surely Sir George did not call him out?’

‘My brother? Duelling? Certainly not, he considers it barbaric and irrational. No, Henry made good his escape while George was blustering at the landlord and the last thing I heard of him, he had become a curate in Wales.’

The Duke snorted with laughter. ‘What an escape for both of you! Can you imagine yourself as a curate’s wife? And what a waste.’ The light from the flambeaux outside each Town house they passed was enough to show her his eyes, warm and appreciative as he looked at her.

There was a long silence while Sophie fought with her blushes and her beating heart. If she had foolishly thought she had fallen in love with Hal Wyatt at first sight, now she was discovering how much she liked him too. His humour, his sympathy, the interest he took in her shocking tale all made her feel she had known him for years. But, of course, it was probably an illusion and he was only flirting with her. That was what men of the world did, no doubt.

It was a good thing that she was learning to get her foolish fancies under control: she had been right in believing that her sheltered life caused her to read too much into his easy manner. But she knew what she had to do – somehow she had to help this man and his young sister.

Sophie leaned over and, startling herself probably as much as him, took his hand in both hers. ‘Please, Your Grace, let me be of use to Lady Elizabeth. When we find her I can pretend I have been with her the whole time. It may seem odd as we are not known to be friends but, if I am seen to return to London with her, no one will be able to say she was alone and unchaperoned. And if she is unwilling to break the connection with the young man I can tell her of my history, which may persuade her of her foolishness.’ He began to shake his head even before she had finished speaking. ‘Please, will you not trust me in this?’

‘It is not a question of trust, but of your good name.’

‘I can hardly be in any worse of a scrape than I am now, can I? It must be past midnight.’

'That is a brave and generous offer and I cannot pretend I would not be glad of a lady to give Elizabeth countenance, but I cannot ask such a thing of you.’ He broke off as the carriage slowed. ‘Here we are, turning into Portman Square now.’ He pulled down the blinds to shield her in case anyone passed by, and climbed out. ‘Wait here and I will see if there is any news.’

He returned minutes later, a look of grim amusement on his face, a crumpled note in his hand as he stood at the open carriage door. ‘She has left a note to say that they are on their way to Gretna Green. Really, in some things my little sister is very conventional. And I do believe she thinks they can get there within the space of a few hours.’

‘How long will it take you to overtake them, Your Grace?’ Sophie asked.

‘With these horses? By the early hours of the morning I would hope.’

‘Then, what are we waiting for?’

‘Nothing whatsoever. I will be away as soon as I have dropped you at your home.’ He opened the door and jumped in, calling up, ‘Bruton Mews, John.’

‘No.’ Sophie caught at his arm as he sat down and tugged at the check-string at the same time. The carriage, which had began to move, stopped. ‘We are wasting time. If you find her tonight and you have another lady with you to chaperone her, then we can bring her off safe. But to waste precious minutes by taking me back home is such a risk. Let me scribble a note to my maid to let her know what is happening and not to expect me until the morning. Even if we are slightly delayed she can say I have a severe headache and am resting in bed until luncheon.’

She held her breath while the Duke looked at her. She could almost see him balancing options.

‘Yes. Wait.’

He ran back up the steps to return in a few moments with pencil and paper. He took her hasty note, folded it and called down a footman to listen to her careful instructions.

‘The mews entrance,’ she emphasised. ‘The kitchen door will be on the latch and Fanny will be waiting. Take care not to wake anyone.’

The Duke called up, ‘John, change of plan, head for the St Albans road.’

Silence fell inside the carriage as it bowled up the highway towards Highgate. Once they had laboured up the hill and through the village they were in the dark of open countryside, the only illumination a fitful moon and the occasional light from a farm or hamlet. The Duke said nothing, his face turned towards the window, but Sophie sensed that he was not seeing the darkened countryside, but was looking inwards, thinking of his sister, planning and reviewing their course of action.

Sophie shifted on her seat and he turned his head to look at her. ‘Are you warm enough? Here, take this lap robe.’

She tucked it around her knees, suddenly realising how chilly she had become. The weather was damp but mostly, she suspected, it was sheer reaction to the night’s events.

‘Go to sleep,’ the Duke suggested and she could hear the smile in his voice.

Against all the odds she found herself dozing, her half-dreams full of a strange and disturbing mixture of this adventure, her own unhappy elopement and the discussion at the Literary Circle. Who would have thought that when she had set off for a respectable visit to a ladies’ reading group she would find herself alone with a man in a speeding carriage?

Her dream had reached the point where Mrs Ashdowne was recommending a fascinating new book of poetry to Hal Wyatt, but he was complaining that he could not read it because the fire in the inn room was smoking and besides, the eloping couple in the next room were arguing too loudly for him to concentrate, when the carriage slowed and turned sharply.

‘The Pea Hen, Your Grace.’ The driver called down from the box, waking her with a start.

‘Wait in the carriage,’ the Duke ordered as Sophie rubbed her eyes. ‘I doubt if they have stopped here, it is the most expensive inn in St Albans and besides, the landlord might recognise Elizabeth, but I must check them all.’

He was back within a minute, calling, ‘Try the Lamb and Flag next, John.’ They drew a blank there again, but at the third inn, the White Hart, they struck lucky.

‘Whip them up, John,’ the Duke called, as he leapt back into the carriage. He subsided against the squabs and in the light from the inn yard Sophie could clearly see the relief on his face. ‘Thank God, they were here. We are less than two hours behind them and he has only a pair harnessed up. We should overtake them before Daventry.’

Sophie clutched the strap tightly as John took his master at his word and whipped up the team. ‘They seem good horses, Your Grace.’

‘The best, I won them off Lord Falmouth at piquet last year and he hasn’t forgiven me yet. I don’t like to push them like this, but needs must and they will take us as far as Redbourn without coming to harm. I can get a reliable change at the White Horse there. And, Miss Haydon, now we find ourselves in this situation, will you not call me Hal?’

‘I – Yes, thank you. If you will call me Sophie. It might be as well if we pretend to be related when we are enquiring for Elizabeth, don’t you think? And if we are used to using our given names, that will help.’

‘Sophie...’ he said, as if trying out the name on his tongue. ‘It suits you.’

They made the change as planned, and even had the encouragement of the sleepy ostler remarking that a light carriage with a rather inferior pair had passed through less than an hour before without changing. Dunstable was reached without incident and at the first inn they discovered that the fugitives had stopped to snatch a bite to eat and rest their horses and were now only an hour ahead.

‘They hadn’t the money to change the pair, only to rest them, and this is not a good road. We might have them by Stoney Stratford,’ Hal said grimly, his gaze once more fixed out of the window onto darkness.

Sophie felt a thrill of fear trickle down her spine. Hal Wyatt was not a man to be trifled with: he was large, fit, furiously angry – although he was doing his best to hide it from her – and deeply concerned for his sister. How would he react when he got his hands on her would-be seducer?

‘What are you going to do with the young man when you catch up with them?’ she asked.

The words dropped into the silence and it was some seconds before he answered. ‘Horse whipping is tempting, if somewhat melodramatic. Beyond that, and a strong desire to beat the living daylights out of him, I had not thought.’

Sophie’s heart beat uncomfortably in her chest. ‘You will not call him out, then?’ Besides being dangerous, duelling was illegal and she had no wish to see Hal Wyatt having to flee to the Continent to escape justice. Even without knowing the young man concerned she had no doubt that, whatever the weapon, Hal would not be the loser.

‘Rest assured, Miss Haydon, I have no wish to compound the scandal by killing, or even wounding, the young fool.’ The carriage swayed wildly and they gripped the nearest strap. ‘This road has always been appalling and the turnpike trust does not seem able to keep it in good repair.’

‘Who is he? He is well known to you?’ Sophie pressed, too intrigued to be alarmed by the speed they were travelling at, despite the road.

‘Oh, yes, I know who he is all right. Justin Fanshaw, the younger son of a neighbour of ours in the country. His father cut him off after his gambling debts became too much for even a doting parent to tolerate. He started his career by being sent down from Oxford for associating with loose women, fell into the hands of card sharps and now badly needs something to restore his fortunes. I have tried to explain this to Elizabeth, but she will not listen.’

‘But how could Lady Elizabeth be taken in by such a man?’

‘He is quite the most good-looking creature you will ever set eyes on, a veritable Adonis. He has golden curls, a fine figure and considerable charm. She sees him as romantically persecuted by his father for mere youthful indiscretions.’

Sophie smiled wryly. ‘I expect she thinks she can reform – ’

The carriage gave a wild lurch, she heard the coachman shout at the horses and then, with a grinding crash, the whole vehicle toppled on to its side.

Sophie was aware of falling, of Hal’s hands reaching for her, a searing pain in her head and then darkness swallowed her.