Indulgence 2: One Glimpse (34 page)

“Still, I must search for her. That is, make the show of trying to catch her before they reach Scotland.” Oh, yes, he had to think of the proprieties, of the damned facade! If he were to actually catch Flor and keep her from marrying Evers, she would be ruined as an unwed woman who had flown off alone with a man. Yet if he sat idle and did nothing to catch her, the ton would declare him a brute and a heartless guardian. Then there was the mark on his honor too. If he caught them before they reached the border, he would be obligated to call Evers out. If Sam caught up to them and did not demand satisfaction, he would never be able to show his face in the company of other gentlemen again.

“Yes, yes.” Kat nodded several times. “And I will…eh, see to arrangements for her wedding clothes.” Sam made a disgusted noise, and she looked at him. “Listen to me, Sam. Aunt Margie was right about one thing at least. We need to decide what public face we are going to put on this, quickly. There are some who owe me favors. If I can get one of the dressmakers to claim that we had already placed an order for Florence’s wedding clothes, we can say they were already betrothed, that they ran off because of…um…”

“The impetuousness of youth? The high spirits of young love?” Sam could not curl his lip more if he tried.

“Yes, that could work. Of course no one will really believe it for a second, but we both know it isn’t about what people believe.”

No. It was about what they could pretend to believe. Sometimes Sam hated his world.

Kat turned to the young woman, who had remained so still and quiet as to make Sam forget her. “Millie, come. We have so many preparations to make. We can’t do much until morning, but we can at least start writing the letters, the orders. I think I still have some of the milliner’s invoices from Elizabeth’s wedding clothes. We can use those to start and change the dates…”

Sam stood in the middle of the room, like a rock in a river, as Kat and Millie collected a few things around him before leaving. He listened to the bell of Kat’s voice fade into the house until there was only the crackle of the fire. He was so tired. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into a warm bed and sink into nothing. Or better, to sink into John’s arms and pretend this wasn’t happening, but there would be no sleep for him. He took a seat on the spindly sofa and stared at the fire.

A scratch and a whimper caught his attention. Then a slinking mass of scruffy fur emerged from under the sideboard.

Sam laughed as frustrated tears filled his eyes. He had forgotten Flor had taken a liking to his adopted mongrel and begged to watch over her for a few days. He dropped to one knee beside the sofa and extended a hand.

“Come here, sweetheart.” That was all it took. Mutton wagged her tail, still tucked low, and came to sink against his lap. He gathered her up and let her place a few sloppy licks on his face. “Have I been neglecting you too, little runt?”

She cocked her head to one side.

“Yes, I know. A stupid question. Do you forgive me?” Mutton seemed to like what she was hearing and placed another kiss across his jaw. “Thank you. Let us hope that my neglect doesn’t end too badly for your sister.”

She snuggled into him, trying to get her nose against his neck. He allowed it until he felt his eyes starting to droop, and then he carried her to the front hall and headed toward the carriage he knew still waited for him. The servants did not so much as raise a brow as their weary employer carried a sleeping dog into the velvet confines of his carriage.

* * * *

Something was wrong. After they’d passed the gate to Regent’s Park, Elliot had grown quiet. It wasn’t just that he was quiet; he had not even looked at her in almost twenty minutes and had dropped her hand to take the seat on the other side of the carriage rather than sit next to her. For her comfort, he had said. No reason to be bunched up.

“Elliot? Are you worried? It’s all right. We’ll be out of the city soon, like you said, and then they will have to guess which road we took north.” Elliot had explained that there were two ways north to Gretna Green, and her brother would be busy deciding which route they chose.

Everything had gone perfectly. She had packed up some clothes and other things and hidden the bag in the bushes at the back of the garden. One of Elliot’s servants retrieved it and it was already in the carriage when she left the Smithtons’ party. That was the only part she had not liked, leaving so brazenly for all to see. But Elliot had assured her it was best. If people saw, Sam would be forced to let them marry in order to squash a scandal. Flor smiled to herself, proud of how clever Elliot was and elated at how much he cared for her.

Even if the thought of what her brother might be thinking at that moment made her nauseated.

“We won’t have to worry about that,” Elliot muttered, his gaze fixed out the window.

Flor sighed. He was just nervous. His spirits would brighten as soon as they were both away from the city. She could understand why he was apprehensive, for if Sam caught them, it would be the worst situation. Why, Sam would be obliged to call Elliot out, and the thought twisted her insides until she could hardly breathe. She could never believe her kind brother would harm another person, but what was kindness when two men were facing each other with pistols?

She resigned herself to looking out the window until Elliot was settled enough to talk again. As she pulled back the curtain and watched the quiet night outside, she frowned. Surely that was not the Donaldsons’ house they had just passed? She scooted closer to the window and looked across the dark square to see…Gunter’s Tea Shop? They were going the wrong way!

“Elliot, you must stop your driver. We’re going the wrong way.”

“We’re not. It’s fine.”

“No, we are. I just saw Gunter’s, and now we’re heading toward Mount Street. We’ll pass my brother’s house if you don’t make him go another way.”

Elliot said nothing, only continued to stare out the window with a sort of pained expression. Then he cleared his throat and said, “We are. I’m taking you to your brother’s house.”

It was as if her heart stopped beating. “W-what? Why?”

“I think it’s best. The journey to Gretna is rather long and you wouldn’t be comfortable in the sort of establishments that would lodge us.” He spoke quickly, still not looking at her. “I will speak to your brother tomorrow.”

“What are you saying? You told me he was unmovable. He said he would not accept your suit.”

“He said he would not accept my suit and also be willing to pay your, um, dowry. This way he will be forced to see reason. He can’t possibly keep you from marrying me now, not with scandal threatening.” Evers pressed his gloved fist under his lips in a strange gesture, but all Flor saw was another attempt to avoid looking at her.

“I don’t understand,” she said weakly. “I thought you didn’t care about my dowry. I thought we were going to marry in Scotland without it.”

Elliot smacked his hand on the seat beside him, startling Flor back against the squabs. His blue eyes that she found so beautiful were clenched shut.

“Just…just be reasonable,” he ground out. “We cannot possibly marry without your dowry. How would we live? My allowance would never pay for a household, servants, fine dresses.”

She was growing light-headed. “But I don’t need those things. I can live differently if it means we can be together.”

Another strange look—pain?—flashed across Elliot’s face, and then he seemed to will it into stone. He finally looked at her, but something in his eyes made her think he was not looking
at
her. “You may be able to live differently for that alone, but I…I am not. And if our marriage is to be amicable, I think it is only fair that we both bring something to the table.”

Something to the table. Flor knew that sort of talk. It was what gentlemen said when they were making bets, making deals. When they were trading horses. But she did not want to believe it.

“But I…I thought
I
was at the table?”

He shifted in his seat. “My father is an earl. You will benefit greatly from this marriage and your family by connection. I think it’s only, eh, fair the benefits go both ways.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Benefits. Connections.
And stupid little girls.
“You don’t love me, do you?”

Elliot sucked in a breath, then pulled viciously at his gloves. “Don’t be foolish, Flor. You may be young, but you’re very clever. You know how ma—how all of this works. I’m sure we will get on well enough. Probably better than most husbands and wives of our acquaintance. You are sensible and intelligent. More to talk about than bonnets or the latest ball.”

She was sensible, was she? So sensible she had allowed herself to see what wasn’t there, had heard what she wanted to hear, and had humiliated herself before countless people who must have seen the truth that she could not. She was nothing to Elliot but a sack of gold.

She said nothing. She did not even move as the carriage swayed over the cobblestone and eventually came to a stop before the familiar face of Shaw House. The front door opened, and the butler, looking startled for the first time Flor could remember, stepped out. He was followed by two footmen who waited at the top steps, also showing signs of apprehension.

She suddenly felt as if a blizzard raged outside and she was being ordered to walk out into it. How could she face her brother, her sister, even the servants after what she had done? She had been gone for hours already, secreted in a carriage with a man and too stupid to realize they had been driving in circles.

Elliot cleared his throat. “Come along, Flor. I will be here early tomorrow to make arrangements with your brother. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

Fine. Oh, yes, fine. She refused to look at him but allowed him to hand her down just as the leery footman arrived and took her bag from Elliot’s servant. The skin on her arm crawled as if she had touched a serpent.

He did not say another word, for which she was thankful. She was not sure she could bear any more of his concerned tones now that she knew there was nothing behind them but greed. She walked up the steps, her scalp prickling under the gaze of the servants. They all knew, she had no doubt of it. Elliot had made certain everyone knew. He had made sure she would be so ruined no one and nothing would be able to prevent their marriage.

“Miss? Sally here will show you to a guest room. I will have your bag sent up.” It was the butler, speaking in his usual bland tone, though she now imagined it dripping with disgust.

“No, thank you,” she muttered.

“Ah.” The butler wavered. “Would you like tea in the drawing room?”

The servants probably wanted something to do, something to get away from her now that she was an embarrassment to their master. “Yes. Tea. Thank you.” She walked toward the drawing room, her tired feet barely carrying her. The tea would go untouched. If anything passed her lips, she was sure it would make a reappearance. She was almost to the drawing room door when she heard commotion outside, followed by Sam standing in the doorway with Mutton asleep in his arms.

She burst into tears and ran into the drawing room. He was fast on her heels, and then the drawing room door slammed behind him.

“Flor! What the devil is going on?” He deposited Mutton on a sofa and advanced on her. “What are you doing here? Where is Evers?”

“H-he brought me back.” She twisted her hands against her stomach. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t bear it.

“What do you mean brought you back? Why? Was he…” Sam paused. “Was he not taking you to Scotland? Where
were
you?”

“In his carriage. We d-drove around. I thought we were leaving the city, but we didn’t, and then…”

“Did he touch you?” Sam demanded, his voice turning to ice.

She laughed, like poison leaving her lungs. As if Elliot would touch her. He was probably embarrassed just to be seen with her, the dumb, frumpy fool with the glittering fortune.

“No,” she said to the floor. “He…he said he…”

“Flor… Blazes! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? And now that you aren’t on your way to Gretna Green, it’s even worse.” She knew he was stomping around, flailing his arms and glaring at her, even if she could not look up. “And why the devil did he bring you back? Why didn’t he take you to Scotland?”

She couldn’t tell him. She was so humiliated. How could she admit what everyone else already knew?

“Flor? Look at me.” Sam made a frustrated sound and paced. “It doesn’t matter. I will send a note to Kat and tell her that we need to think of something else. She was hoping to make everyone believe you and Evers were already betrothed before you ran off, but if you aren’t married, there’s no way we can do that. I—” His voice broke, and he stopped pacing. “I think I’ll have no choice but to give my consent for a special license. I don’t know what Kat will say about—”

“No!” Flor cried. Panic consumed her, a sick, waxy feeling creeping over her skin. Her humiliation was forgotten as she grabbed at Sam’s hands. “No, I can’t marry him! Please, please, no, Sam!”

Sam stared at her, mouth agape and shaking his head. “What are you saying? You wanted to marry him. You wanted—”

“He doesn’t love me! He doesn’t even care about me. He told me…in the…carriage…” Her sobs blocked her throat as tears blurred her vision. She could see her future all at once, sad tableaux of little humiliations, one after another. First would be his family looking down their haughty noses at the plump little apple their son had decided to harvest. Then it would be Elliot. How long before his gratitude over her money faded and she was relegated to some country estate? Would he even bother to feign a liking for her, or just send her off straightaway?

“Sister,” Sam began, placing a soft hand against her hair, “there is no other solution for this. If you don’t marry him, you are ruined. You will never be able to show yourself in society again. You won’t be received.”

The words sounded so dire, and yet the horror she should feel wasn’t there. What little there was did not compare to the misery she knew she would find as Mrs. Elliot Evers.