The Last Hellion (45 page)
Still, she hadn't much choice but to stay with him, at least in the beginning. It was either John Grenville or the streets, since she had no other way of earning a living. She had been ill for a very long time following Sarah's birth and never fully regained her strength thereafter. If she had been strong, she would have left John Grenville eventually, Lydia was certain.
Anne had definitely tried to leave him little with which to exploit her death or Lydia's true identity. The diary constituted a very small scandal, compared to the Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
high drama the box held. Every publisher in London would have fought for those documents. Small wonder Carton, Brays, and Carton had paid handsomely for the materials. And very small wonder they'd promptly buried them.
Evidently, the box was overlooked when the current Marquess of Dain changed solicitors. The diary, along with other records, must have gone to the new firm, where everything was properly sorted out and materials deemed of interest to the new master sent to Athcourt. Since Dain had resided in Paris rather than Devonshire until last spring, it was hardly astonishing that the diary had ended up tucked away in a drawer or file or shelf with other archival materials. The amazing thing was that Lady Dain had found it.
That, though, wasn't half so amazing as Ainswood's piece of "finding."
And he, as usual, would not admit to having done anything out of the ordinary.
On the following afternoon, while the younger contingent was out watching a parade in honor of the Queen of Portugal, Lydia and Ainswood enlightened Dain and Jessica.
Knowing the Ballisters, Dain wouldn't have had anytrouble believing the story, even if he hadn't the documents spread out before him on the great table in the library.
What he couldn't believe was that the Duke of Ainswood was the one who'd got to the bottom of it.
"How the devil did you perceive what no one else even imagined was there?" he demanded of his friend. "And what guardian angel pushed you to Carton, Brays, and Carton, of all places?"
"You're the one who told me the Ballister nature isn't confiding," Vere said.
"You're the one who nattered on about mimics and weaknesses for the theater.
You were the one who pointed out how extraordinary it was that the family Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
birthmark—the holy badge of the Ballisters—had appeared upon a woman. Yet Anne never 'confided' that miraculous matter in her private diary. It was natural to be suspicious. All I did was put two and two together. And since she eloped in your father's time, I started in the logical place, with your father's solicitors. I certainly didn't expect to find the answers there. I was merely hoping to be set on the right trail."
He threw an exasperated glance over the group. "Now that we have Lydia's identity sorted out, and she doesn't have to worry about John Grenville's bad blood, don't you think a celebration is in order? I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a drink."
Monday morning found Bertie Trent and his bride-to-be in the morning room of Ainswood House, and it wasn't in order to do what young couples do when they snatch a moment's privacy.
They were trying to figure out how to stop a war.
Everyone else was in the library, arguing about their future. They'd been at it since breakfast: Dain and Ainswood and their wives, with enthusiastic help from Elizabeth, Emily, and even Dominick.
They could not agree on where the wedding should be held: Longlands, Athcourt, London—in church, or at whose townhouse. They could not agree on who had the right to provide Tamsin's dowry, or a place for the newlyweds to live, or the finances necessary for maintaining the abode.
Because it was Dain and Ainswood doing most of the arguing, compromise was out of the question. Left to themselves, the ladies might have negotiated an acceptable arrangement, but the men wouldn't leave it to them, because that meant compromise.
Tamsin was very upset. She didn't want a dowry. Yet she didn't want to hurt Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
anyone's feelings. Bertie was upset for her sake as well as his own. He couldn't say a word about his own future because it would look like he was taking sides.
"At the rate they're going," he said, "they won't get it settled before Judgment Day. And meanwhile, m'grandmother and Abonville'll get back from France, and they'll be wantin' us to live there."
"I know it bounds ungrateful," Tamsin said, "but an elopement to Scotland is beginning to exert a strong appeal."
"We don't need to do that." Bertie lowered his voice.
"You can't walk ten minutes in London without trippin' over a church. And where there's a church, there's a parson."
Her enormous brown gaze lifted to his. "We did tell them we were going for a walk," she said.
Bertie patted his breast. "I got the license." He'd been carrying it about with him ever since Dain had given it to him a few days ago. Considering the way important documents tended to go astray—for decades—in certain families, Bertie thought it best to keep this one upon his person at all times.
"I'll fetch my bonnet," she said.
It took her only a moment. A moment later, they set out for St. James's Church, Piccadilly. They had only to walk a short way across St. James's Square and step into York Street, at the end of which the church stood.
They were about to turn into York Street at the same time a well-dressed, bespectacled, middle-aged fellow was turning out of it into the square.
He stopped short, and Tamsin did, too.
"Papa!" she cried.
"Tam!" The fellow opened his arms.
Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
She let go of Bertie and ran into them.
"I say!" Bertie exclaimed. "By Jupiter."
As soon as the first transports were over, Bertie hustled them into York Street, so they wouldn't attract attention from Ainswood House.
"We was tryin' to get shackled quick-like," he explained to Mr. Prideaux.
"Before we was missed. I weren't runnin' away with her or nothin'." He produced the license as evidence.
As Mr. Prideaux perused the document, Bertie added, "You ain't goin' to raise a fuss, I hope. It's all settled, like I wrote you, and she's safe and well, and I can take care of her. We don't need nothin'—only your blessin' would be a good thing, if you can manage it, but we'll do without if we have to."
By this time Tamsin had disengaged herself from her father and was clinging to Bertie's arm. "You won't change his mind, Papa, or mine. I won't go back to Mama."
Her parent returned the license to Bertie. "Neither will I," he said. "Your mother didn't send me word when you ran away. I found out only a week ago. I was in Plymouth getting ready to set out for America to look for you when Sir Bertram's letter finally reached me. She had waited for a sign from the Almighty before deciding to send it to my secretary." He took off his spectacles, cleaned them with his handkerchief, then put them back on. "Well, I have looked after you very ill, very ill, indeed, Tarn. I daresay this young fellow will do much better, eh?"
"Oh, never mind heaping coals on my head, Papa," Tamsin said. "I can't blame you for running away from Mama when I did the same thing. If I'd had work to get me away from her, I'd have worked day and night." She put out her hand.
Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
"Come with us, there's a dear, and give the bride away."
She tucked one hand into her father's arm and the other into Bertie's, and they set off toward the church.
It was a very short walk, but Bertie managed to do plenty of thinking in the course of it. When they reached the church, he said, "You know, it seems to me like no one's goin' to argue with the bride's pa if he says this church is fine with him and this sort of wedding, and never mind the fancy trappings. What if we asked 'em all—meanin' them at Ainswood House—to come along? You'd like to have the Duchess of A at the weddin', I know you would, Tamsin, and only think how Lizzie and Em didn't get to see Ainswood get shackled." He grimaced. "It bothers me to disappoint 'em."
His intended looked up at him, her big eyes glowing.
"You are the dearest, kindest man in all the world, Bertie Trent," she said. "You think of everybody." She turned to her father. "Do you see, Papa? Do you see how lucky I am?"
"Of course I see," said her father, while Bertie turned vivid scarlet. "And I hope your beau will allow me the honor of writing the invitation to your friends."
The invitation was duly written, and a vestry man carried it to Ainswood House.
Not a quarter hour later, the wedding guests trooped into St. James's Church, and nobody argued with anybody, though a few people did cry, as females do, and Susan, whose tender sensibilities couldn't bear tears, tried to comfort them with hand-licking and the occasional cheerful, "Woof!"
The minister, accustomed to the oddities of the gentry, bore it good-humoredly, and the wedding, if it fell short of certain peers' high standards of grandeur, unquestionably succeeded in making all parties happy, most especially the principals, which, after all, was all that mattered.
Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
After the ceremony, Mr. Prideaux invited the company to adjourn to the Pulteney Hotel, where he was staying, for "a bit of refreshment."
It soon became apparent to everyone where Tamsin had inherited her efficiency from, because a very lavish wedding breakfast contrived to be assembled and served on very short notice.
Not long afterward, it dawned on Bertie that efficiency wasn't all his bride had inherited.
Mr. Prideaux made a "little gift" of a suite of rooms to the newlyweds, neatly forestalling arguments about where they'd spend their wedding night.
Pulteney's was an elegant, very expensive hotel. The rooms turned out to be a suite of enormous apartments customarily reserved for visiting royalty.
Even Bertie, who could not calculate pounds, shillings, and pence without getting a violent headache, had no trouble deducing that his father-in-law must be plump in the pocket.
After the servants finished fussing with things that needed no fussing with and departed, he turned to his bride.
"I say, m'dear," he said mildly, "maybe you forgot to mention your pa was as rich as Croesus."
She turned pink and bit her lip.
"Oh, come," he said. "I know you must've had a good reason, and you ain't goin'
to be too shy to tell me? I know you wasn't worried I was a fortune hunter. Even if I wanted to be, my brain box don't work that way. I hardly know what to say to a gal when I like her, let alone say things pretending I do when I don't and it's only her money I like. Whatever I'm thinkin' comes right out of my mouth, generally, and you know what I mean, whatever I say, don't you?"
Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
"Yes, of course I know," she said. She stepped away from him and took off her spectacles and rubbed them on her sleeve and put them back on again. "At Athcourt, when you asked me to marry you, I was going to tell you about my father. But you told me how you'd run away from heiresses your aunt kept taking you to meet. I was alarmed. I know it's silly, but I couldn't help it. I was afraid that when I told you, you'd see an heiress instead of me. I was worried it would make you uncomfortable and perhaps your pride couldn't bear it. I'm sorry, Bertie." She lifted her chin. "I'm not by nature ruthless or deceitful, but in some matters, a woman must be. I could not risk your getting away from me."
"Couldn't risk it, could you?" He nodded. "Well, I'll tell you what, Lady T. You done excellent. I didn't get away, did I? And ain't goin' away, neither." He laughed. He couldn't help it. The idea of her being ruthless and deceitful, on his account—and worried he'd get away—tickled him immensely.
Still chuckling, he advanced and drew her into his arms. "I ain't goin' nowhere,"
he said. He kissed her pretty nose. "Except mebbe into our fancy bed with my wife." He looked up, glanced about. "If, that is, we can find out where the deuce it is."
Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
Longlands, Northamptonshire
One week later
Being in regular communication with Ainswood House, the servants at Longlands were fully apprised of their new mistress's standards of domestic order.
Consequently, despite only twenty-four hours' notice of the family's arrival, the Longlands staff turned out in full ceremonial regalia to welcome them. These domestic troops were cleaned, starched, and polished within an inch of their lives, lined up with military precision at sharp attention.
All of which disciplined perfection dissolved into a chaos of whoops, whistles, and cheers when the Duke of Ainswood swept up his bride in his arms and carried her over the ancestral threshold.
Tears streamed down the housekeeper's plump face when the young ladies she'd so sorely missed rushed at her, to crush her with hugs and be crushed in return.
Even Morton, the house steward, was observed to dash a tear from his eye while he watched the master set his bride down amid a welcoming horde of mastiffs, whose boisterous greeting set the hall bric-a-brac trembling.
The dogs quieted abruptly when Susan made her entrance a moment later, Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
towing Jaynes.
"Grr-rrr-rr," said Susan.
Her ears had flattened, her tail was stiff—her entire stance clearly communicated hostility. The others were males, and she was not only an intruder but outnumbered, four to one. Nonetheless she made it plain she was prepared to tear the lot of them to pieces.
This seemed to puzzle the other canines.
"Woof," one said uncertainly.
"Woof!" one of his fellows seconded more boldly.
A third barked, then dashed to the door and back. Susan remained rigid, teeth bared, snarling.
"Come, don't be cross," Vere told her. "Don't you see? They want to
play
. Don't you want to play, sweetheart?"
Susan grumbled and glared at them, but her hostile posture relaxed a degree.