A Regency Match (24 page)

“It's not Mincher.
Do
wake up, Bertie.”

One eye opened suspiciously. “Sophy?”

“Yes, it's me. Please, Bertie, get up.”

The eye closed as if to ward off an unpleasant sight. “No.
Go 'way
,” he said bluntly. “You're up to some scheme. Don't want to know about it. Don't want anything to do with it. Jus' go 'way.”

“Bertie, you
must
help me. I don't know how I shall manage if you don't.”

He opened both his eyes with exaggerated caution. “Manage what?” he asked, prompted by a momentary curiosity. But his common sense took over, and he thought better of it. “No, don't tell me,” he said quickly, putting his hands over his ears. “I've had enough of your childish tricks. One would think, after last night, that you'd had enough.”

“
Bertie
!” Sophy exclaimed in offense. “I'd expect that sort of chastisement from the others, but surely
you
, at least, shouldn't blame me for last night.”

At this he sat up. “Don't be a wet-goose.
No one
blames you. I say, why are you wearing a bonnet? Where are you going?”

“That's just it, Bertie. I want to go home.”

“Home? To London?”

She shook her head and bit her underlip before replying. “To … to Wiltshire.”

“Wiltshire? Do you mean you want to go to
Edgerton
? Why?”

“It's the only place I have left,” she said mournfully. “They don't know anything about … about all this. About the riding accident, and Dilly, and all the rest. If I rusticate there long enough, perhaps people will forget, and I'll be able to go back to Grandmama's one day.”

“Sophy, you're overdoing it again. No one blames you for Dilly's lunacy. There's no need to—”

“No, you're out there. They're
bound
to blame me.
You
know that I never encouraged Dilly, but the others will never believe that. How could they? Why would any man with a grain of sense in his head behave the way Dilly did if he didn't feel possessive of me?”

“But Dilly
has
no sense. Anyone can see that.”

“No, they can't. How could they? He has a perfectly respectable reputation. He's never done anything so ridiculous before, has he? His behavior before last night had been quite unexceptional.”

“I suppose so,” Bertie admitted. “Except about you.”

“Yes, you told me the other day that he'd spoken to you about me.”

“All the time. He was loony on the subject from the first. I don't know why you didn't notice it yourself.”

“No, I never noticed anything out-of-the-way.” She blinked as she was struck by a sudden memory. “Except the day we left for Wynwood. He
did
come round and babble some nonsense at me about not becoming betrothed! I didn't know what he was talking about.”

“Yes, he said the same to me. Perhaps we both should have set him straight
then
.” Bertie shook his head in sympathy for his friend. “Poor Dilly. He was quite a good fellow until love struck.”

Sophy sat on the edge of the bed and sighed in doleful agreement. “Yes, love can make perfectly sane people behave very strangely.”

Bertie peered at her shrewdly. “Are you speaking of Dilly? Or of yourself?”

“I'm just … speaking generally,” she said hastily, but her face was suffused with color.

“Good Lord!” Bertie gasped as he was struck with an idea so staggering that he fell back against the pillows. “You're not …! You haven't …! Sophy, don't tell me it's …
Marcus
!”

“I won't tell you anything of the sort!” she answered crisply, turning her face away from him.

But Bertie was not convinced by her denial. “Of
course!
I should have guessed. It all adds up.
That's
why you've been behaving so … so …”

“Go ahead and say it! So
insanely
.”

“But, Sophy,” he said in sympathetic concern, “he's
betrothed
. And he don't even
like
you!”

Sophy leaned her head against the bedpost. “I … kn-know …”

Bertie's slight experience with the tender passion had enlarged his understanding and had given him some inkling of the pain of unrequited love. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat beside her. “Don't cry, Sophy,” he pleaded softly. “Please don't cry.”

“Oh, B-Bertie,” she sobbed, turning and casting herself into his sympathetic embrace, “what am I to d-do?”

“I don't know,” the harassed young man muttered unhappily, “but I wish you'd stop crying. You're soaking my nightshirt. It ain't even proper for me to be sitting next to you in my nightshirt at all—even if you
are
my cousin.”

“I'm s-sorry,” she sniffed, sitting up and mopping her eyes with the ends of the ribbons of her bonnet, “b-but at least you can understand now why I m-must g-go home.”

“No, I can't understand. What good will it do to run away?”

“I've already t-told you. I can't f-face him …!”

“But have you forgotten your stepmother? I can't see what good it will do you to deliver yourself into
her
clutches.”

Sophy got up and faced him purposefully. “I have no other choice. Will you take me, Bertie? I can't ask Miss Leale to go with me, for she would only carry the tale to Grandmama. And I can't very well go all that distance unescorted.”

Bertie felt himself much put upon. Fond as he was of her, he didn't relish the prospect of stealing away from Wynwood in this underhanded style. But the girl obviously needed his help. “Very well, I'll take you, though I don't like the idea one bit!”

“Oh, Bertie,
thank
you!” She threw her arms around his neck in an appreciative hug. “Now hurry and dress. I'll run down to the stables and have the groom … Oh, dear!”

“
Now
what?”

“We'll need a curricle and pair. I can't very well steal them from Marcus, can I?” She frowned worriedly. “And Grandmama's carriage is too large and decrepit to make good time.”

“Besides, if you take
hers
, how will she be able to get home?” Bertie pointed out.

“Well, you'll be coming back here, won't you? The trip will only take you a couple of days—you'd have it back here in plenty of time for her departure.”

“In that case, take my father's laudalet. It's much lighter and needs only a pair.” To make off with his father's carriage was not admirable behavior, but Bertie salved his conscience by telling himself that borrowing was not as bad as stealing.

The details settled, Sophy picked up her bandbox and headed for the door. “Do hurry, dear,” she urged. “The servants will be up and about at any moment.”

“I'll hurry,” he muttered grumpily. But before she left, he raised an admonitory finger and wagged it at her. “I have just one thing more to say to you, my girl,” he told her firmly. “This is the last time—the
very
last time—I become involved in your escapades. Whatever happens in future, whatever harebrained notions you take into your head, you are
not
to include me. The next time you have need of an ally in your plots, you are to forget that you know me. Is that
clear
, Miss Edgerton? You are to forget I'm your cousin, you are to forget I'm the partner-in-crime from your childhood, you are to forget that I even
exist
!”

Chapter Eighteen

F
OR SEVERAL HOURS
after their stealthy departure, the runaway pair were not missed. Since many in the household were sleeping off the effects of the night before, it was assumed by those who were up and about that Sophy and Bertie, too, were safely in their beds. The only inhabitants of the breakfast room by the hour of ten were Alicia, Charlotte and Isabel (who were readying themselves for a shopping trip to Cuckfield), and Dilly, Marcus and Fanny. If Dilly had hoped for an invitation to remain at Wynwood, he was doomed to disappointment, for Charlotte bid him a blithe
bon voyage
before herding her companions out to the waiting carriage, and Marcus merely asked him quietly if he had sufficient funds with which to pay his shot at the inn and make his way back to London. Dilly replied with pride that he was quite plump in the pocket and thanked his host for his generous hospitality.

Dilly hoped that Marcus would then take himself off on his own concerns and leave the breakfast room to him and the young lady, but Marcus, having no idea that Dilly's amorous leanings had taken so aburpt a turn, felt obliged to remain to see the boy off. Fanny and Dilly were forced to speak in the most distant and formal way. “May I ask you to pass the biscuits?” was the most daring of their exchanges. At last, having no further excuse to hang about, Dilly offered his hand to his host to say goodbye.

“I'll see you to your horse,” Marcus insisted, reaching for his cane. Marcus didn't expect Fanny to follow them out, but she did. He was puzzled by it until Dilly, about to climb into the saddle, turned to the girl. “May I come to call on you in London, Miss Carrington?” he asked, awkward at being forced to say it in front of his host, but carrying on anyway.

“I should be … delighted,” Fanny said with a becoming blush.

Marcus, suddenly comprehending the situation, wanted to laugh out loud. That they
both
could have switched their affections so readily, especially after their attachments to two others had been so blatantly displayed only the night before, struck him as ludicrous in the extreme. He made a hasty retreat to permit them a private parting, bursting into unrestrained laughter as soon as he was out of earshot. He wondered if it would be a breach of taste or of some moral code to tell Sophy about the little scene. He would have liked to share his amusement with her.

The shopping expedition was an unqualified success, the ladies returning with a number of boxes and parcels to show for their exertions. But Lady Alicia noticed an agitated Miss Leale hanging about near the stairway. “What is it, Leale? You look as if you've lost your best friend. Have you mislaid the curling iron again?”

“No, ma'am,” Miss Leale said agitatedly, ignorning the slur. “If you'll step into the sittin' room fer a bit, I've a little somethin' to show ye.”

The “little somethin'” turned out to be a note from her granddaughter, telling her where she'd gone. Lady Alicia's lips tightened on reading it. When she recovered from her initial shock, she stalked out of the sitting room and handed the note to Charlotte. “Read
that
,” she demanded bitterly, “and then let me hear you tell me again what a sweet and charming creature my granddaughter is.” Without waiting for a reply, she marched up the stairs and did not reappear for the rest of the day.

Charlotte, the note still in her hand, went searching for her son. She found him in his study. Placing the note on the desk before him, she asked mildly. “Do you think, my love, that we should do anything about this?” And she slipped into a chair while he glanced over it.

Dear Grandmama
, Sophy had written,
You needn't say it—I'm a silly chit. You've told me often enough. But I'm sure you will understand that I can no longer remain under this roof. I have brought havoc on this peaceful, orderly household too often. Last night was the last straw. I cannot bring myself to face anyone this morning. I'm sure you can make my excuses. Say everything that I should have said myself. I do not want you to be worried about my safety. Bertie is taking me to Papa. I know you will say that I won't enjoy having to deal with my stepmother, but perhaps the discipline will be good for me. You've always said that I lack discipline, and I see now that you are right. After a while, when the gossip has died down, if you should want me, I will gladly come back to you. In the meantime, please don't think too badly of me. I have been remiss in many things but never in my love for you. Your devoted Sophy
.

Marcus closed his eyes for a moment. Then, with a sudden, sharp explosion, he slammed the letter down on his desk and jumped up. Turning to stare out the window, he said tightly, “What do
you
think we should do about it? I, for one, find the whole matter highly distasteful. The girl has given us not a moment's peace since she arrived. My duty as her host can scarcely apply now that she's gone away.”

“Yes, you're quite right,” his mother said gently.

“Confound it, Mama,” he said, rounding on her impatiently, “I know you too well to be taken in by ‘you're quite right.' You had a plan when you came in here. Well,
out
with it! What is it you think I should
do
? Ride out after her and bring her back by force?”

She smiled at her son as benignly as if he'd merely said good afternoon. “I made no suggestion at all. But if you think you
should
ride out after her, I would have no objection. I'm sure I could manage the evening here without you.”

“Thank you very much, but I have no intention of performing so ridiculous an act. Why should I?”

Charlotte directed her attention to the Norwich shawl around her shoulders which didn't seem to be arranged to her satisfaction. “There's no reason in the
world
for you to do so, my dear.
I'm
not the one who suggested it. I only thought that, if you
wished
to do it, it would be such a boon for poor Sophy. I am sorry that she left here thinking that we blame her for last night's little incident. If you went after her, you could tell her—”

“Save your breath, Mama. I shall do no such thing. Last night's ‘little incident' may not have been her fault, directly, but it would never had occurred if she hadn't been here, now would it? When you first told me you'd invited her, I
warned
you that she was the sort to generate crises. Little did I dream how right I was!”