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Holly never wanted to let Willow go. Her arms held comfort and assurance, something she suspected they both were in need of. Up until that precise moment, she hadn’t realized just how hard the burden of the day’s events had borne down on her shoulders.
It was a crushing weight.
What’s more, if her sister did not manage to find happiness in her union with St. Ives, Holly knew, without a speck of doubt, that she would carry that guilt with her for the rest of her life. Still, it was her sister’s wedding night, and Willow hadn’t dissolved into a fit of tears upon entering, which to Holly was a good sign, if any sign at all.
“Forgive me, Willow. If I’d known you would do something so insane in an attempt to correct my imprudence, I would never have left you alone in that room. Was he furious with you?”
“Oh, he was quite beyond that, but nothing I couldn’t manage. The Dragon Duchess, as you so suitably named her, on the other hand . . .” Willow shuddered. “That woman’s wailing almost drove me through the walls. Her incessant caterwauling gave me head pains. She needs to take to the waters of Bath.”
“I am so sorry,” Holly whispered.
“Oh, hush, I would never have allowed you to marry that beast, not after what you told me. Besides, I have my own motivation for wedding the man.”
That gave Holly pause. “You wanted to marry St. Ives?”
“Of course not. My reasons have nothing to do with the duke himself.”
“I am confused,” Holly said, sure her brows were knitted together to reflect that. She was missing something crucial. “The reason you married him has nothing to do with him?”
“Yes.”
“The man is a beast,” Holly felt compelled to point out. Again.
“He is something, all right.”
Warton rocked back on his heels. “I believe what your sister is saying, Miss Middleton, is that she wished to marry and took advantage of an available groom.”
Holly’s gaze flew to Willow. “Is that true?”
Willow nodded, giving Holly a sheepish smile. “But please know I never intended on stealing your betrothed before that moment.”
Holly flashed her teeth. “I suppose that is a comforting thought.” Her amusement suddenly faded. “Has St. Ives spoken to father yet?”
Willow nodded.
Holly tugged her sister to the sofa so that they could be more comfortable. She noted that Warton moved to the far corner of the room, giving them some privacy.
“So, does father mean to lock me away in a tower or perhaps, dare I ask a dungeon?”
“I’m afraid not. The duke has requested father’s permission to establish a betrothal agreement for you and his brother, Lord Jonathan Griffin.”
“I must not have heard you correctly, Willow, because it sounded like you said the duke wants me to marry his brother?”
Willow’s answer was a solemn look.
Heavens! Poppy had warned her that the duke might seek retaliation, but this? Did the duke not care for his brother’s wishes?
Damn his devil hide!
Holly had to give credit where it’s due. St. Ives was smart. This was the ultimate punishment—forcing her into a marriage of convenience when he knew how much a love match meant to her.
“I cannot marry your brother-in-law, I do not love him!”
“Regardless of anyone’s feelings, St. Ives has men searching every inch of the city. He suspects, or at least I think he does, that you might return to Derbyshire. He has already dispatched men there as well.”
“But why? Lord Jonathan is on tour. He even missed the wedding.”
“He is expected back any day now, I’m afraid.”
“Surely Lord Jonathan will not stand for this?”
“I thought so as well, but what if the duke threatened to cut his brother off . . .”
“He could marry an heiress,” Holly pointed out.
Warton muttered under his breath. Something about female logic.
“It will still require him to marry. So why not marry you and keep his brother happy?”
Willow made a valid point. “Has father agreed to this arrangement?”
“Not as of yet.”
Bless his loving soul. Charles Middleton might be the second son of an earl and somewhat unconventional, but he possessed a backbone made of rock. And when it came to his daughters, no matter what trouble they’d gotten themselves into, he always championed them.
“Well, then, St. Ives must have demanded father agree, and Lord knows father hates to be told what to do.”
“No man does,” Warton muttered from behind them.
Holly let out a small sigh. “Is it not a crime to wed a relation by marriage?” she asked, thinking that if it wasn’t it should be.
“Unfortunately not,” Willow said.
“A pity.”
Her sister gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I won’t let it come to that. But it might be best if you put some distance between you and the city.”
Holly spared a glance at Warton. “The marquis has agreed to escort me to one of his properties in—”
Willow held up her hand, stopping Holly midsentence. “Do not tell me where you are going. I don’t want to take the chance of spilling your whereabouts, however unintentional.” She glanced at Warton. “What of your servants? Are they aware of your destination?”
“I assure you, madam,” Warton drawled. “My servants do not gossip.”
Given all the trouble Josephine had gotten into without her brother’s knowledge, Holly thought he might be right.
“Servants gossip among each other, if nothing else,” Willow pointed out logically. “And you’ve given yours the night off in the wake of a huge scandal. They may not realize the significance, but others may draw suspicion from that.”
“Point taken,” he grumbled.
“We shall be careful to remain undetected,” Holly reassured her.
Willow nodded. “Stop only where you are confident no one will recognize you. For the time being, the duke doesn’t suspect you have a protector. That gives you an advantage, Holly, so use it wisely. I will do what I can from here, but we must think of an alternative plan in case I fail to convince the duke to let the matter go.”
“No one will catch us off guard,” Warton reassured.
“Thank you,” Willow said. “I owe you a great debt for aiding my sister.”
He grunted. “The duke will not get his hands on her.”
Again Holly felt a shiver of gooseflesh.
Willow turned to her, one brow arched.
Holly shrugged. Warton was the protective sort. But he was all sorts of other things as well. Like attractive. And broody. But endearing. Also, at the moment, her champion.
“How will you appeal to St. Ives to accept an olive branch?” Holly asked in an attempt to divert her sister’s attention.
“I have no clue, but I shall figure something out. The man is as stubborn as an ox, intent on dictating the lives of others. It shall give me great pleasure to bring him down a notch or two.”
Holly took her sister’s hand in hers, a lump forming in her throat. “He has not hurt you?”
Willow’s countenance softened. “No, dear, I do not believe he shall. He seeks only to control me, and I daresay, should he discover me gone, it will give him quite the fit! But that’s the most of it.”
“You are so terrible, Willow,” Holly said with a smile. “Best hope he does not realize you are gone.”
Willow shrugged. “It might do him some good to discover his wife is in possession of a fine backbone.”
“I cannot express enough how sorry I am,” Holly murmured.
“Stop apologizing,” Willow demanded, glancing at Warton. “I came to see if you were all right, and I am pleased to find you have chanced upon a champion of sorts, however shocking.”
Warton lifted one dark brow.
“Well, it is,” Willow reaffirmed. “If I penned down all of the least likely gentlemen to aid my sister, you would have been on the top of that list.”
“And why is that, Duchess?”
“Oh, you are known to have a brooding temperament and a quick temper. Not to mention you lack the subtle charm that most gentlemen possess.”
“I have charm,” he muttered.
Holly smothered a smile. “I’m sure Warton regrets the curiosity that led him to stumble upon me,” she teased.
As she expected, Warton only grunted in response, but the curve of his lip told her that he found their remarks amusing.
Their eyes met, and Holly ducked her head. Would there ever come a time when this madness passed and his emerald gaze didn’t paint her arms with gooseflesh?
Willow’s brow puckered. “Please do not accept another proposal before the dust has settled.”
Holly’s cheeks warmed under her sister’s all-too-knowing eyes. “Do not be silly; I have no wish to fall into the same trap again. And I doubt there’s a man in England who would ask for my hand after today,” she muttered in a hushed tone. “In any case, I’m practically betrothed to Lord Jonathan Griffin, now, am I not?”
Warton shifted in the corner.
She said the last part with more than a hint of sarcasm. But she felt that it would be one of the most significant consequences of her actions today, and now one of her greatest regrets, that whenever she did finally find her one true love, he’d likely be too mortified by her actions to ever ask for her hand in marriage. Except, maybe, if he was a pirate. Pirates weren’t afraid of anything.
“You are not betrothed yet, and with any luck, you won’t be. Best not to provoke St. Ives further until this matter with his brother is resolved.”
“Do not worry; I shall not fall in love on a whim again.”
God willing.
“That is all I ask. In any event, I can see that you are in capable hands. Come,” Willow murmured as she rose, pulling Holly into a tight hug. “I must be off.”
“So soon?”
Willow gave a reluctant nod. “Take care of my sister,” she told Warton. “The next time we meet I hope it will be under better circumstances.”
Warton inclined his head.
“Be well,” Holly murmured, watching with a heavy heart as Warton steered her sister away.
He reappeared moments later in the doorway, his sharp features softening when his gaze fell on her. “Come, Miss Middleton. We depart in a few hours, so I suggest you get some sleep.”
Holly was too tired to serve up any protest as he led her to her chamber. Of all the ways this day could have drawn to a close, this one had been far beyond the reaches of her imagination. And because she could never quite shed the romantic inside of her, she wondered, what if this was no happy accident but destiny? Perhaps this day had been written in the stars all along. And all she could do now was embrace her fate.
***
SLEEP, THE ELUSIVE suitor that hadn’t called on her in three nights, remained at bay that night, too. Rather rude of him, Holly thought bitterly, as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, almost not recognizing herself.
Her sister’s claim that the duke had sent men in every direction in England, indeed, had left a bad feeling spreading throughout her body, causing her muscles to ache from stiffness. Exhaustion tugged at her, but Holly’s mind refused to succumb before it found a solution to at least one aspect of her predicament.
How would she remain undetected in the country?
Thus far, her only advantage was that the duke did not know she would be traveling with a companion. So, if she altered her appearance in some way, she may have an even better chance of going unnoticed.
So, in the wee hours of the morning, Holly headed to the kitchen in search of coffee beans and a pair of scissors. Once she had found the items, it had been easy enough to chop her hair short. She had never been one to follow the styles of society, so it hadn’t pained her to do so.
It had taken longer to stain her hair since she first had to brew a generous amount of coffee and then soak the mixture in her hair. It was a time-consuming business, robbing her of three hours’ rest. By the time she had finished, her eyes were burning.
“It looks natural,” she murmured as she shifted positions, viewing herself from different angles.
It was hard to tell with only a candle to serve as light, but she could still distinguish a much darker tone in place of her blond hair.
Of course, it was frowned upon to stain your hair—or so Sally, a girl from a nearby parish, had once told her. Sally fancied black hair, and upon asking her father if she could color it, he had promptly burst into a fit of rage and shouted that he would disown her, that staining hair was worse than adultery. Coffee beans, on the other hand, weren’t permanent—a trick she learned from a novel.
Holly hoped she had done enough for it to look authentic. She remained skeptical that staining hair was worse than adultery, but she did not wish to unleash another whirlwind of trouble because of her hair.
But in this case, caution outweighed propriety.
Holly touched her new mop, shaking her head and watching the locks bounce on her shoulders. She quite liked her new length, though the color felt bizarre on her. It was odd but strangely reviving—a refreshing change to an otherwise dreary day.
She spared herself another quick glance. This new Holly could do anything she wished. Travel unchaperoned. Become a pirate. Be bold, be daring, and perhaps even kiss a gentleman. This new version of herself felt optimistically brave, as though she could accomplish anything.
She’d need to remember that for what was ahead of her.
After dispensing of the snipped hair, she settled beneath the covers and stretched out onto the mattress with a sigh of delight. Her eyes drifted closed. She might still get some rest before Warton came to wake her.
Then a new chapter of her life would begin.