“What in the devil’s name did you say to her, Christopher?” Adam accosted his friend in the passage outside of the breakfast room in the morning. It was still early enough that not many guests were yet stirring. He grabbed the unfortunate man by the lapels of his coat, all but shaking him. “She has gone!”
To his credit, Christopher looked thoroughly astonished.
“What are you talking about, old man? Who has gone?”
“Miss Tamworth, you simpleton. She and the Hammons called for their carriage at first light this morning, and they have left for Little Macclow.” Adam released his hold on Christopher’s coat, but did not regret the creases left behind there. “I have nearly throttled several footmen and am just come from the stables after searching everywhere else.”
“Why would you do that?” Christopher was still grappling to catch up.
Recognizing dimly that where they stood carried a risk that they could be overheard, Adam growled, “Come with me,” and pushed Christopher down the passage and into the earl’s study, which was never in use at this hour.
“Sit.” He followed the terse command by pointing to one of the leather-upholstered armchairs and then raising his hand as if he would further push Christopher into it.
Christopher sat. “Adam, stop. Start at the beginning, for I am lost. The last I knew, Miss Tamworth said she wasn’t feeling well and decided she should retire to her room last night.”
Adam had stalked to the window, and now stalked back. “Yes, I saw her leave the dining room. That was the last I saw of her. But I also saw the two of you with your heads bent together, chatting like the best of friends, before that. What were you speaking about? I demand to know. I don’t believe this was mere illness, for she left no communication of any kind–not a note, or even a message to be delivered by a servant.”
“Why would you expect one?”
Adam huffed out a big breath. Christopher’s cluelessness was more than annoying. “Because, idiot, I traveled here with them, and was supposed to go back with them as well!”
Christopher’s eyes narrowed as he regarded Adam. “Is that all?” Trepidation modulated into speculation. “Hm, I don’t believe it is. After all, you have other horses in your stables. It’s not as if you have no other way to get back there. What is going on?”
Adam ground his teeth. “Just tell me what you two were conferring about at supper.”
A light seemed to dawn in Christopher’s face. Perhaps louder than he should have, he exulted, “Don’t tell me you are jealous?”
Adam curled his hands. Punching one of the few remaining friends he had these days was inadvisable. “Don’t prevaricate. Just answer the damn question.”
“I do think she was ill. She looked a little off even as we went into the dining room, but at that time she thought supper would restore her. When I recommended the soup, she actually paled, so I suspect it was something with her stomach.”
“What else did you speak about?”
Christopher sighed. “She overheard some of the gossip about London. You know that was inevitable, do you not? She asked me to tell her the truth, so I did.”
Adam struck his fist repeatedly into the palm of his other hand as he strode to the fireplace, then turned back. “How did she take that?”
“She seemed to take it in stride. Even praised me for defending you.”
“That was all?”
“You’re welcome. Yes, I think–no, she also asked about Mrs. Darlington, who she was. She heard the gossips mention your need to marry, and she wanted to know if I thought you might marry Mrs. D. I allowed as since you were good friends, it might be conceivable.”
Adam groaned. His thunderous rage was turning into despair, and he much preferred the former, for at least it energized him. Now he felt like he was sinking into a deep black hole where he would be unable to move. “Ah, Christopher, there is so much you do not know.”
“Yes, so I perceive. Now you are the one who looks ill.” Christopher studied him for a moment. “Have you eaten? Or perhaps some coffee might restore you?”
“No food or drink is going to fix this.” Adam slumped into the chair opposite Christopher’s and proceeded to tell his friend all of the developments in his relationship with Miss Tamworth that had transpired in the last few days. “Now I suspect she thinks I seduced her into agreeing to be courted by me, and that I am only interested in marrying her to solve my problems.”
When he paused for breath, Christopher whistled. “And you are certain that is not the case? Phew, that is a fine coil indeed.”
Adam was absolutely certain that was not the case. Hadn’t he tried his hardest not to want to marry her? Now that she had fled from him, what would she do? The idea that she might fall into the waiting arms of David Pratt twisted his gut with a new sense of desperation. “I am beginning to suspect I am in love with her, Christopher. I have made a hash of this.”
“I am heartily sorry. I can see now that everything I said to her last night was wrong, and yet, I spoke nothing to her that was not the truth.”
“At least as you knew it. I can see that. I apologize for rumpling your coat.” He considered confiding the truth about London to Christopher, but what did it matter right now? Adam and Louisa Bettencourt had taken such pains to make their story convincing, Christopher might only be offended that they did not take him into their confidence at the time. Adam would tell him, eventually.
What to do about Miss Tamworth was a much more pressing problem. “I think I should leave immediately for Little Macclow. I am concerned about what she may do while she doesn’t know what is in my heart.”
“Trying to persuade her while she is too angry may only work against you, my friend,” Christopher advised. “I think you may do better to allow her some time to cool her temper and to miss you.”
“But I also have obligations to fulfill in the village.”
“You have days enough left to carry them out. Do you not also have obligations here? What are you going to say to your mother?”
Oh, bleeding blazes. He hadn’t even thought about his mother, or how she would react when he told her what had happened. She likely did not even know yet that her Little Macclow guests had decamped.
He sagged even deeper into his seat. He did not think he could stay here, knowing Miss Tamworth–Cassie–was angry and misinformed. Better he should go to her even if she wouldn’t speak to him. He would wear her down. And if he was in Little Macclow, he could keep an eye on David Pratt.
“I’m going after her,” he told Christopher, leveraging himself up out of his chair. “I can’t risk her deciding to marry the damned curate. But I will have to speak with my mother, and try to escape from doing the pretty with some of the departing guests this morning.
Christopher rose also. “By Jove, Adam. I think perhaps you really are in love.”
Cassie spent the entire journey to Little Macclow too distraught to be thinking clearly. What would she tell her father, or anyone else who asked about her venture into titled society? It had proven a disaster. She stared out at the passing countryside to avoid the worried expressions etching the faces of Lady Anne and Squire.
The horrid gossip she had overheard seemed to confirm everything her father had warned her to expect. Had she been a fool not to listen to him? And yet, many of the people she had met seemed kind, interested. Her cousins, Lord Forthhurst’s sister. Mr. Haslitt had been more than kind. Had any of their responses been genuine? Could it all have been an elaborate scheme just to ensnare her?
No, even she could see that that suspicion was daft. Her anger must be poisoning her sanity. Her cousins had seemed so sincere, she had truly believed them. On the other hand, Lord Forthhurst most certainly seemed to have manipulated her, using her physical desire for his own ends. Tears welled up in her eyes again. She dashed them away with her gloved hand, not bothering now with the sodden handkerchief clenched tightly in her hand. When would this stop hurting so?
Finally she broke the silence that filled the carriage. “I suppose every guest there knew about the scandal behind him in London, except for us.” She sniffed.
Lady Anne reached across to pat her hand. “I’m so sorry, Cassie dear. Of course we had no way of knowing.”
“Do you think the rest of it was commonly thought as well?” She had told them everything that she had overheard, including the ludicrous idea that she had a role in the scandal.
“No, dear, I’m certain it was not.”
Ah, except for the part about his needing to marry, and quickly. Even Mr. Haslitt had said that.
Small comfort. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “What am I going to tell my father?” But she was already thinking she would tell him nothing beyond meeting her cousins. That would be enough, would it not? And she would just pretend nothing else happened.
But her next thought made her sit bolt upright on the carriage seat. “Oh, heavens. What if Lord Forthhurst returns to Little Macclow?” He might try to come after her, try to persuade her of his sincerity. He still might try to perform his duties as the Lord of Misrule. “How will I face him, or pretend that nothing happened between us?”
She stared bleakly at Lady Anne, sitting next to the squire on the squabs opposite her. “He made me think he cared for me. He convinced me there was something special between us, something worth pursuing. I am angry enough to scratch his eyes out! And I most certainly never want to see him or speak to him ever again.”
Lady Anne’s face crumpled a little with sympathy. “My dear, I don’t know what to tell you. For once, I have no advice. It seems certain he is likely to return, if for no other reason but that he still has horses and equipage at the livery stable.”
“He could send someone else to retrieve them.”
“Does that seem like something he would do?”
Cassie crossed her arms and shifted her gaze to the passing scenery outside the carriage window once again. She hadn’t thought so. She had begun to see him as responsible, honorable, a man of his word–things he likely would not have admitted to. A man who would not disappoint an entire village in the midst of their Christmastide celebrations. But now?
“In all honesty, I have no idea. I had thought I was beginning to know him, but after last night, I not only doubt him, but nearly everyone I have ever thought I knew. Does anyone ever truly know another person?”
“Oh, my dear. Please don’t lose your faith in people over this. I know your heart must feel broken, but please believe me when I say that it will mend.”
Would it? At that moment, Cassie had no more idea of what to believe than she had of how to fly. She turned her mind towards how she would convince her father that the serendipity of meeting her cousins had been a good experience, that the current Lord Brinton and his sister(s) were actually kind people, and that absolutely nothing else had occurred at the ball.
Snow began to fall when Adam was halfway to Little Macclow. How was it that every time he needed to travel there, the weather seemed an obstacle? Was Fate testing him? He wondered if Miss Tamworth and the Hammons had started enough earlier to have reached home before the snow.
At least this time, it wasn’t ice. He and the horse borrowed from his father’s stables continued on, heads down against the pelting flakes, slower but nonetheless determined. He would be grateful for the warm reception he hoped would still await him at The Four Feathers. If Miss Tamworth told anyone what she thought had happened, even the Lord of Misrule might be unwelcome in the village. But he suspected she would say nothing to anyone beyond the Hammons.
Before he left Blakehill, he had found his mother resting on the chaise in her private sitting room. She had been more than a little displeased when he told her what had happened.
“More rumors!” she had exclaimed in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. But then the crafty mother he was accustomed to dealing with had asserted herself, keeping his world on an even keel.
“If you are able to resolve this and restore the courtship and marriage, the rumors could work to your advantage, Adam. People will think the union is a love match, if they believe Miss Tamworth is the woman you first betrothed.” She paused and looked at him intently. “With her connection to Lord Brinton, people would see why you wanted to protect her from the scandal. You have insisted on keeping that woman’s identity secret, Adam. But I must ask you, is there a risk she will step forward now to ruin this betrothal as well as your last one?”
He had managed not to laugh. “I assure you, mother, there is no risk.”
“You assume so. Are there steps we might take to make certain she does not? Jealousy can make people do surprising things. Without knowing her identity, how can we discover what could encourage a suitable resistance to causing trouble? Is she of our station? Does she need money?”
How absurd was it that his mother wanted to buy off his fictional paramour? In some part she only wanted to learn who it was. He didn’t try to hide his annoyance. “Again, I assure you there is no problem, mother. You will have to trust me.”
She had given him a particularly sharp look. “Adam, do you blame me if I find that hard to do? All of your life you have been the problem child, the one in trouble, up to mischief. You have been a great trial to your father and me.”
“Yes, I have tried hard to live up to your expectations. That, and to be sure I found some way to at least have your attention.”
It had not been the best time for that long-overdue conversation, but for just that moment, he had not cared. “Living always in the shadow of Richard, the perfect son, the apple of your eye, was never easy, mother. Even more so after he died.”
He was tempted, so tempted, to tell her the truth about his ruined engagement. But the truth would upset his parents more than the version they presently believed. He and Louise Bettencourt had courted scandal to secure their own happiness above and against the wishes and designs of their parents. An unthinkable rebellion! They had in fact out-schemed the schemers. The gamble had worked for Louise. And it seemed Adam might be on the verge of achieving happiness at last for himself, if he could make things right with Miss Tamworth.
Astonishingly, his mother’s eyes had tears in them. “I never knew you felt that way, Adam. We never meant–perhaps we made some mistakes.”
“All I want now is to go after Miss Tamworth as speedily as possible, mother. It may shock you to know that if I can repair the damage, this IS a love match, at least on my part. I find I don’t wish to live any kind of life without her in it.”
His mother had covered her mouth with her hand. Still teary, she now reached it out toward him. “Oh, Adam. Can you believe that your father and I do want you to be happy?”
He’d discarded several replies that would only have hurt her more. In the end, he took her hand, considering it a peace offering and preferring not to look too closely for any second motives she might have. Miss Tamworth was very intelligent. She would be able to handle his mother, perhaps far better than he did. Perhaps their relationship could change, mend.
In the end, he simply said, “Thank you, mother. That means a great deal to me.”
He had fairly flown out of her room, intent on grabbing his travel bag, stuffing a few items back into it and heading directly to the stables. He dispatched a footman to his father to learn what mount he could borrow and then to inform the head groom to have the horse ready. In his mad dashing about, he nearly overset his poor sister, who was coming up the broad marble stairs from the ground floor hall with Brinton’s sister, Lady Honoria.
“Adam, we were coming to find you! We have been looking for your friend, Miss Tamworth, and have not been able to find her anywhere. Do you–“
He didn’t have time for this. That he was considerably less than circumspect with them said a great deal about the state of his mind and heart. “She is gone,” he said a little wildly, interrupting Emma. “She and the Hammons left at dawn, without a word to anyone.”
“Why would they do that?” His sister’s face fell in clear disbelief.
“Oh, dear! Was something wrong? Did they receive some news?” Lady Honoria tried to sort out some explanation. “I had so wanted more time with my new cousin.”
“I will tell you exactly what seems to have occurred, and then you must forgive me for rushing off.” Adam had proceeded to summarize the evening’s events as quickly and succinctly as possible.
“Oh, I just knew it!” Emma exclaimed, ignoring the problems. “I knew there was something special between you. Oh, Adam, I am so happy for you!” Both she and Honoria were nearly jumping up and down in their excitement, a dangerous matter on the stairs where they stood.
“You are missing the point. Be happy for me once I have successfully resolved this matter, ladies,” he said darkly. “In the meantime, please say nothing to anyone else. And, perhaps you could pray.”
Now as he searched for the road in the accumulating snow, he wondered what had possessed him to make that last remark. Certainly he had tossed it off half in jest, and yet with some intent. He had never been a praying man. Given how often he had claimed to be the Devil or had been labeled such by others, a habit of praying would have been the height of irony. But now, in pursuit of a vicar’s daughter, it did not seem inappropriate. He might need a miracle to win Miss Tamworth now.