Lord Darlington's Darling (25 page)

Slowly, she came to the conclusion that her best
opportunity of winning free was not in the middle of
nowhere, but at the posting house where they must
stop to change horses for the next lap of the journey.
It was there that she must somehow escape Mr. Farnham and beg the help of any other patrons of the inn.
Even if it meant shooting him first.

However, Abby was not given the opportunity she
so hoped for. Mr. Farnham did indeed stop to have a
new team put to, but he merely yelled his instructions
through the opened window. When he thrust shut the
window, he said with a slight smile, “Forgive the in
convenience, Miss Fairchilde, but I do not believe it
wise for us to set down just yet. I wish to put a good
distance between us and London. After all, you did
leave those damning notes, did you not?” He laughed
quietly.

Abby disregarded everything except his refusal to
set down. “Am I not to be allowed refreshment, sir?
I should like to wash the dust from my face and hands
and have a warming cup of tea.”

“In due time, Miss Fairchilde,” said Mr. Farnham
inexorably as the chaise began moving again. “I sug
gest that you rest while you may. It is a long trip.”

Hours later the chaise stopped again for a fresh team, and again Mr. Farnham refused to let her out
of the chaise. In fact, he caught her arm and threw
her back against the seat when she made as though to open the door.

“Sir! Do we not breakfast or refresh ourselves?”
asked Abby in some desperation. How was she to ap
peal for help when she was virtually imprisoned, she
did not know. Her pitiful plan seemed now to be noth
ing more than a pipe dream.

“In due time, Miss Fairchilde,” repeated Mr.
Farnham.

As the chaise sped on, Abby had ample time to
berate herself for her stupidity. She cast a loathing glance at the somnolent Mr. Farnham, He had been
right. She had been incredibly naive. She had thought Mr. Farnham was truly besotted of Lady Bethany. She had thought the threat of reprisal, through the offices of her brother-in-law, would have been enough to curb Mr. Farnham and he would have set her down. She had not counted on how alien Mr. Farnham’s mind was to ordinary persuasion. She had been brought to a realization of the full scope of her folly
with his logic.

She should have confided to Lord Darlington her
guilt and her fears, or failing that, told her brother-
in-law. When Abby visualized Mr. Crocker’s stolid
countenance, she wished passionately she had
done so. He would never have let her embark on this foolhardy attempt to rescue Lady Bethany Hart. Instead, he would probably have gone to Lord Darlington and left it to the marquess to handle matters as his
lordship saw fit.

What a fool she had been!

The one ray of light in the whole mess was that she
had left notes. If she failed in her own attempt to
escape Mr. Farnham’s clutches, then there was still
hope of rescue.

At this thought her brother-in-law’s face did not
come to mind. But Lord Darlington’s did.
Abby wanted more than anything for Lord Darlington
to come after her. He would not, of course. She had
told him nothing and, even if she had, he would in all
probability have left it to Mr. Crocker to rescue her
from abduction. She had messed things up too badly
with Lord Darlington for him to care any longer what
became of her.

Abby covered her eyes with her hands, trying to stem the tears that at last began to flow.

It was then that there was a loud crack. The chaise
lurched high and wide, tumbling in a slow macabre
arch. Abby screamed as she was thrown violently
over.

At a highly unusual hour of the morning, Lord Darlington was astonished to receive his sister in the
breakfast room. Lady Bethany rushed in, a single sheet
clutched in her hand. She was obviously in great agita
tion, witnessed by her whitened face and the stricken
look in her eyes. “Sylvan! I must speak with you, I must!” She swallowed a sob.

Lord Darlington had instinctively risen to his feet, his protec
tive side instantly on the alert. He threw down his
napkin beside his unfinished plate and went around
the end of the table to catch his sister’s hands in his
own. “Now, what is toward, Bethany?”

“Send the serving men away!” she exclaimed in a
low voice.

Lord Darlington at once snapped an order, and the
serving men left the breakfast room. If he was not
already convinced of his sister’s disturbed slate of
mind, the fact that she craved privacy would have
done so. Lady Bethany had never been one to pay much
heed to what she said in front of servants.

He placed a chair for her. “Sit down, Bethany, and
tell me.”

Lady Bethany sank into the chair, her body trembling.
Her expression was horrified. “Sylvan, the most horri
ble thing has happened. But here, read it for your
self!” She thrust the sheet of paper at him.

With a glance at her, Lord Darlington took the
sheet. In a matter of seconds he made himself master
of its contents, but when he looked up there was
a questioning look in his eyes. “I do not under
stand.”

“Is it not plain enough?” exclaimed Lady Bethany. “Abby
has sacrificed herself for me. Oh, how wicked I am! I
told her because I had to tell someone! But I never
thought she would do this!” She pressed her hands
against her cheeks and rocked a little. “Wicked, foolish! I made her promise to tell no one!”

Lord Darlington was of no mind to allow his sister
to fall into hysterics, as she seemed inclined to do.
Sharply he asked, “Bethany, what does Abby mean
when she says she intends to save you from Mr. Farn
ham? I thought that at an end.”

Lady Bethany swiftly shook her head. “No, I disobeyed
you, Sylvan! I—I continued to see him on the sly.
Abby knew, a little, but not everything until I went
to see her yesterday.” She gave a laugh that broke in
the middle. “Abby begged me months ago to put an
end to it. But I attended to her as little as I did you!
And now see the upshot of it all! Abby is to be ruined
and it is all my wretched fault.”

“Not if I can help it,” said Lord Darlington grimly,
crushing the missive in his fist. It sped through his mind – how his beloved had recently become uncomfortable with him, how her eyes would sometimes not meet his gaze – but now he understood. The quandary she had been placed in, the heavy burden she had borne. Fear for her iced his veins.

His eyes bore into his
sister’s. “Tell me why Abby would go to such lengths as to take your place in eloping with Farnham, Bethany
. Tell me the truth!”

Lady Bethany shuddered. “It is worse than you could
imagine, Sylvan. You will hate me, but it is only what
I deserve. Oh, Abby! Why didn’t I listen to you
yesterday?”

She burst into tears, but Lord Darlington had scant
compassion. He stepped forward and shook her by the
shoulders. “Bethany!” His fingers bit into her flesh.
“What hold did Farnham have over you? Why did he
believe you would run away with him?”

“It happened at the Vauxhall masquerade,” gasped
Lady Bethany, casting a frightened glance up at her broth
er’s face. “He—he—oh, I cannot say it! Sylvan, I am
ruined!” Her face twisted, and she collapsed against her brother, crying bitterly.

Lord Darlington held her, at once comprehending.
Rage washed through him such as he had never
known. “I shall kill him,” he breathed above his sis
ter’s head.
He put her gently from him, but still held her by
the arms. “Listen to me, Lady Bethany. I am putting you into Mama’s care. You must tell her everything. Do
you understand? Everything!”

“I don’t know if I can,” whispered Lady Bethany, her
face ravaged by tears and a dreadful shame.

Lord Darlington gently ushered his shrinking sister
toward the breakfast room door. “Come, I think you
will discover Mama more understanding than you
yet believe.”

“And you, Sylvan?” She clutched his sleeve, looking
up at him with a desperate appeal in her eyes.

Lord Darlington smiled with an effort. His thoughts
were already coursing ahead. “You are my sister. I
shall always love you.”

“Thank you, Sylvan,” said Lady Bethany humbly. She
straightened her shoulders. “I shall go upstairs at once
to Mama’s boudoir.”

“I shall take you to her myself,” amended Lord
Darlington. He slanted an eyebrow at her. “You
may need my support in order to pluck up your
courage.”

“Yes, I have been so stupid,” agreed Lady Bethany. She
stopped him, simply by pulling on his sleeve. Her eyes
burned in her white face. “Sylvan, find them! Find
Abby, before it’s too late!”

“Never fear, I shall.”

Lord Darlington swiftly escorted his sister up
stairs and placed her into Lady Darlington’s care.
Then he called for his swiftest phaeton and four
to be readied and to be brought around to the
front. Meanwhile, he bestirred his valet to set out raiment suitable for driving and was changed in re
cord time. Scarce a half hour had passed before he
flung himself up into the phaeton and drove off.

Lord Darlington, from further questioning of his
sister, had a fair notion what Mr. Farnham’s plans
were. However, he curbed his impatience to set off
in swift pursuit until he had paid a visit to the
Crockers.

He was in a cold, deadly frame of mind. The
butler’s insistence that the Crockers were not ac
cepting visitors that morning scarcely registered with
him. By the simple expedient of thrusting aside the butler, he gained entrance to the Crocker town house
and went with swift step into the entry hall.
He heard raised voices in the breakfast room, a ref
erence to Abby, and pushed open the door without
ceremony.

The occupants looked around at the unexpected en
trance. “My lord!” Mr. Crocker was clearly of no mind
to observe the niceties. “What is the meaning of this
intrusion?”

“Sir! I did attempt to stop his lordship—!” exclaimed
the butler, crowding in behind Lord Darlington.

Lord Darlington had spied the sheet dangling from
Mrs. Crocker’s hand. He nodded at it. His grim expression was magnified by the harshness of his voice.
“I see that you have a note, as well!”

Mr. Crocker stared very hard at Lord Darlington. He waved at the butler. “That will do, Tarley. You
may return to your duties.”

Much ruffled, the butler withdrew from the room
and closed the door behind him with a great show of dignity. It was lost on Lord Darlington, who stepped
forward with his hand outstretched. “May I, Mrs.
Crocker?”

Mrs. Crocker glanced uncertainly at her husband.
“Really, I do not see that—”

“Give it to his lordship, Melissa. If he comes, as I
apprehend he does, about my sister-in-law, then I should like
to hear what he has to say,” said Mr. Crocker.

Mrs. Crocker did as she had been bid, her frown
showing clearly that she did not like it. “I cannot
imagine that his lordship is in Abby’s confidence,”
she said.

Lord Darlington swiftly read the short note and re
turned it. “True, ma’am. However, my sister Lady Bethany
was admitted to Miss Fairchilde’s confidence with just
such a correspondence this morning,” he said in a
clipped voice. He turned to Mr. Crocker. “Sir, I make
you the compliment of understanding already that I care deeply for Miss Fairchilde. I intend to do all in
my power to save her from this reckless action, whether
you will it or not.”

The door to the breakfast room opened. A self-
assured voice said, “No need to show me in. I consider
myself quite one of the family.” Lord Fielding stepped
into the room, smiling and certain of his welcome.

Mr. Crocker bit out an annoyed exclamation.

“But why would Abby do such a thing?” asked Mrs.
Crocker on a bewildered note, scarcely registering
Lord Fielding appearance. “I do not understand, for
she never gave any indication of partiality for Mr.
Farnham. Indeed, I quite thought she disliked him
amazingly.”

“She has done it because she cherishes some quix
otic notion that she can save my sister Lady Bethany from
her own folly,” bit out Lord Darlington.

There was a short silence, while Mr. and Mrs.
Crocker exchanged a quick look. It was Lord Fielding
who broke it.

“I flatter myself to be a fairly intelligent man. I
apprehend that Miss Fairchilde has behaved in an un
wise manner.” Lord Fielding puffed out his cheeks
and shook his head. “I am astounded. Indeed, when
I recall our last conversation, I am filled with dismay.
I had quite thought I had laid to rest Miss Fairchilde’s
unfortunate, though admittedly charitable, inclination
to go to the aid of a certain hapless female. I gather
the female in question is none other than Lady Bethany
. Unhappy girl! It is to be hoped, Lord Darling
ton, that the scandal will be soundly squelched.”

Lord Darlington and the Crockers had equally been
held by astonishment at Lord Fielding’s revelation.
Lord Darlington recovered first. “My lord, what know
you of this business?” he asked between clenched
teeth.

“Why, enough to know it
isn’t
any business of
mine,” said Lord Fielding firmly. “I recommended
Miss Fairchilde wash her hands of the affair, but I
perceive she has not followed my advice.” He shook
his head over it and added heavily, “I came today to cry pardon with Miss Fairchilde. We had quarreled
over this idiotic nonsense and she uttered hasty
words, which I am certain she must by now regret. In
short, Miss Fairchilde sent me to the roundabout.”

“And very wisely, too,” said Mrs. Crocker warmly,
her eyes alight with anger. “How dare you advise my sister in such a way, over such a weighty matter? Poor
Abby! And poor Lady Bethany! Really, my lord! I
am quite disillusioned by you.”

Lord Fielding looked surprised. “But I assure you, Mrs. Crocker, I intended it all for the best. We could
not have Miss Fairchilde involved in scandal over a
hurly-burly female who thought so little of her reputa
tion as to contemplate elopement!”

“My lord, let me remind you that you speak of my
sister,” said Lord Darlington in a deadly, quiet voice.

Mr. Crocker looked quickly at the marquess. W
hat he saw in Lord Darlington’s face made him inter
vene quickly. “Lord Fielding, you will say nothing of
this day’s events.”

“Quite,” said Lord Fielding emphatically. “I want
nothing to do with it.”

“Peter, my patience is all at an end!” exclaimed
Mrs. Crocker, regarding Lord Fielding with something
like loathing.

“I couldn’t agree with you more, my dear.” Mr.
Crocker firmly took Lord Fielding’s arm. “Allow me
to show you out, my lord. I am persuaded you will
understand. We have a bit occupying our minds just
now and it is not convenient to visit with you.”

“Of course! My feelings are all with you and Mrs.
Crocker, sir. I shall call again later, when I shall be
assured of finding Miss Fairchilde at home,” said
Lord Fielding.