Chapter Twenty
Hart rode beside Robert's curricle in tense silence. Robert could not tell whether his brother was more distressed that he had met with Cecily, or that he had not confided in Hart to begin with.
"Where's Beaumont?" Hart asked, eventually. "I thought he was with you."
"He has some intrigue of his own in Loxton. He got out at the crossroads and headed there on foot."
"That's no way for a Duke to make his way about. I wonder what he's up to?"
"I didn't dare ask." Robert coughed. "He was good enough about my own secrets, after all."
Hart shot him a look of deep hurt, but made no comment. Robert would have to find some way of making it up to him. He had sorely misjudged his brother's loyalty.
"Brace yourself," Hart murmured, as they rounded a corner. Robert drew himself upright and proud in his curricle, seeing the group of men who waited for him on the road ahead. He refused to let his father intimidate him.
Hart trotted ahead of him, calling out merrily. "Good morning, father! Good morning, all you gentlemen! What a fine gathering we all make."
"Hart!" growled the Marquess, who was keeping his seat in his own horse with admirable poise, given the pain his leg must have caused him. "I should have kept a closer eye on you! Don't tell me you are involved in this deception, too."
"I am quite incapable of deception of any sort, Father," said Hart insouciantly. He settled his horse a short way ahead of the crowd, facing down his father with an air of casual defiance.
Robert appreciated his brother's support, but this was a battle he was determined to fight for himself. He leapt out of the curricle before it had fully come to a halt and went forward to face his father.
"Good morning, father," he said, shielding his eyes against the sun as he looked up to meet the old man's eyes. "What brings you out on this fine day?"
The Marquess signalled his men. "Search that carriage," he ordered.
There was not much to search. It was only a curricle. The men jumped up into it and stamped on the seats for good measure. "No-one here, my lord!"
"Then spread out into the forest. She will not have made it far from the road."
Robert could only hope that Cecily was as good a rider as she claimed. He caught a reassuring nod from Hart, who was watching proceedings unfold with a total lack of concern.
Yes. He had no reason to doubt Cecily's pride. Not only that, but she had a headstart. She was already far out of his father's reach.
That brought Robert some small comfort as the Marquess's wrath turned on him in full.
"You have brought shame on our family!" he growled, brandishing the crumpled letter which Robert had left in the fireplace.
"Pardon me, father. I did not realise that going for a short drive about the countryside would bring you shame."
"You know all too well what I am speaking of!" A fleck of spittle flew from the Marquess's spluttering mouth onto Robert's cheek. He took out a handkerchief and slowly wiped it away.
"You will have to be more explicit, father. Which of my many sins has most recently offended you?"
"I warn you, Robert, I am in no mood for your games. Where is Lady Cecily?"
"I cannot say." Robert was uncomfortably aware that his father was making quite the scene in front of many curious witnesses. He made an effort to defuse the situation. "Father, perhaps we ought to talk about this at home –"
"You think I intend to let you back into Scarcliffe Hall after this disgrace?" The Marquess's eyes flared wide. "After you carelessly give away the chance to finally take our revenge on those cursed Balfours?"
"I have no interest in your ideas of vengeance and ancient insults to those long dead," said Robert, feeling his own temper rile. "If you had any sense, father, you would have put this feud aside long ago."
He caught Hart's grimace out of the corner of his eye. The Marquess was not known for taking criticism well.
"We will find Lady Cecily," he spat. "I will have her dragged back here by her hair if I must. And when we find her…"
"You will do nothing. It is not a crime to ride along a public road."
"Foolish boy!" the Marquess cried, frustrated. "To think that you might have been the one to avenge Letitia once and for all! Have you really thrown your chance away on some foolish infatuation? Where is your loyalty? Where is your pride, your honour?"
"They are quite secure, father, and in Lady Cecily's keeping."
"You will regret defying me," said the Marquess, leaning forwards in his saddle with a dark threat brewing in his eyes. "You may be my son and heir, but I will not hesitate to make you rue your present defiance. Andrews!" He called sharply to the footman standing beside his horse. "Help me off this beast. I am not afraid to meet my son eye to eye."
"That seems to me a singularly bad idea, father," said Hart, dismounting quickly. "Here, Robert. Take my horse. It's best that you make yourself scarce until tempers have cooled."
"You will do no such thing!" the Marquess roared. "Men! Seize that horse!"
"My lords!" bellowed Northmere, riding ahead to block the men from following the Marquess's orders. "This seems to me to be a singular kind of madness." His horse pranced and shook its mane as he led it backwards and forwards across the road, stopping the Marquess's men in their tracks.
"This does not concern you, Northmere," the Marquess growled.
"Nevertheless, I find myself deeply concerned by what I hear," said Northmere. Robert was impressed by his friend's nerve. It ought not to be possible for a mere Baron to defy a Marquess. But Northmere had never been one to stand on convention. "If your aim today is to defile an innocent lady, I am honour-bound to obstruct you."
"That Balfour woman is far from innocent!"
"Robert, have you entirely lost your wits?" Hart demanded, giving him a shake. "Get on that horse and get out of here! I will deal with father."
Robert's pride rebelled at the thought. "I will not let you fight my battles for me, Hart."
"Sometimes discretion is the better part of valour." Hart placed a hand on each of Robert's shoulders and steered him towards the horse. "Let the shock wear off. You would be ill-advised to face father before he is calm. Go and hide yourself away until the time is right. You are doing your cause a disservice by staying."
Robert could not deny the logic of his brother's words. He mounted the horse and kicked it into a canter, making his way swiftly off along the road to the north. Once he was out of sight of his father's men, he turned off to make his way through the forest. The last thing he wanted to do was to encounter the party his father had sent on ahead to block the road.
If his sense of direction had not been addled by his temper, he would hit the road to Brampton in under an hour. Then, with any luck, he would be able to get to the bottom of the old grudge which had caused his family such pain.
And, if he could not solve the mystery, there was only one thing to do.
He and Cecily would be on the road to Gretna Green before the day was over.