The Resolute Runaway Read online

  “Really, my dear, I do not know why you put up with such a barbarous man.”

  Elizabeth smiled to herself. Really, that barbarous man was a daily delight in so many ways.

  “And keep in mind that Darius has no excuses to avoid the ball himself. I shall be most put out if he fails to put in an appearance. Why, everyone might choose to stay away in droves, and then where would we be? But no one would think of turning down an invitation to a ball given by a duke.”

  “Even if the said duke is a barbarous man?” Elizabeth could not resist teasing her aunt.

  Ignoring her interruption, Aunt Theo continued, “And as long as Darius must travel to London anyway, it will not be that much extra work for him to bring you along also.”

  * * * *

  With maddening slowness they inched their way, one step at a time, up the stairs of Colthurst House. Alexander tugged at his collar, which was in truth strangling him, no matter what his Uncle Willard might say about its being no tighter than that worn by all the other men present.

  “Stop fidgeting,” his Aunt Matilda ordered.

  The first month in London had not been as unbearable as Alexander had expected. His uncle had not only supervised his wardrobe, but had also procured for him memberships in various clubs, had taken him to Manton’s, and had even been persuaded to introduce him to Gentleman Jackson.

  To all Alexander’s pleas, however, that the acquiring of a little town bronze was thus quite adequately taken care of, his uncle had turned a deaf ear. Despite all his efforts, Alexander had been unable to talk his way out of attending this, the Season’s premier ball—the one social event it was imperative to attend, according to his aunt—overshadowed only by the opening night at Almack’s, which treat was still to come.

  He was plotting when and how he would be able to sneak away early when they finally reached the top of the stairs and their names were announced, although the din was already so great, he doubted anyone could hear a word the majordomo was saying.

  “Lord Glengarry, Mr. and Mrs. Willard Craigmont.”

  The Duke of Colthurst, who seemed a reasonable sort of chap, shook hands with them and introduced them to his ward, a tiny black-haired young lady who looked as if one harsh word would send her fleeing to her room.

  Then they were passed on down the line, and a rather stout lady in turban and feathers cooed, “Dear Matilda,” before embracing his aunt. “I am so delighted you could come,” she added.

  “My dearest Theophila, nothing could have kept me away. But I wish to make known to you my nephew, Alexander Lord Glengarry. He has come down from Scotland to spend the Season with us.”

  Alexander did not need any prompting to play his part. Yes, he was delighted to be in London; no, there was no city quite like it; yes, it did far surpass anything Edinburgh had to offer. His real opinion of London and the English he wisely kept to himself.

  “And I would like to make my daughter known to you. Dorie, my dear, this is my dear friend Mrs. Craigmont and her nephew, Lord Glengarry.”

  The blond-headed miss in a buttercup-yellow dress turned from the guest she had been speaking with and looked straight into Alexander’s eyes. The air around her virtually crackled with latent energy, and with that one glance she walked directly into his heart. Then she smiled, and without in the least bit understanding how such a thing had happened to him, the eternal bachelor, he knew himself to be utterly lost.

  * * * *

  “I was surprised to see you here at the ball, my dear,” Lady Letitia said to Elizabeth. “I would have thought Darius would have insisted you stay safely tucked away at Colthurst Hall.”

  Elizabeth smiled serenely. “He was, in fact, adamantly opposed to the whole idea, but I finally persuaded him that I really needed to come to London to consult with the renowned Dr. Quigley. Now, unfortunately, Darius is determined to hold me to my fib, and he has arranged an appointment with the aforementioned accoucheur for the day after tomorrow. But it has been worth it to observe Dorie’s and Joanna’s triumph. Be warned, however, that despite my assurances that I am really feeling quite fit, at the stroke of midnight Darius intends to whisk me away to my room. How he expects me to sleep with all the music and noise, I do not know. They make a lovely couple, do they not?” she said, abruptly changing the subject.

  “To whom are you referring, my dear?”

  “My brother and the young lady he persists in referring to as his self-appointed little sister, Miss Joanna Pettigrew. They are both deeply in love, but each thinks the other is completely indifferent.”

  “Yes, I noticed the strong attraction between them the first time I saw them together.”

  “Now, if only we could find a suitable husband for Dorie,” Elizabeth said with a sigh.

  “Actually, my dear, since I last wrote you, I have found the man I think will be perfect for her.”

  Turning to Lady Letitia, Elizabeth could not hide her relief. “Do tell me about him.”

  “He is the son of a dear friend of mine who married a wild Scottish Highlander. He—the son, that is—has a degree from the University of Edinburgh, and although he is not the least bit bookish, he is well able to hold his own in intelligent conversation. Besides being well-built, handsome, and utterly charming, he can outshoot, outride, outfence, outwrestle, outdance, out everything any man he has ever met. When he marries Dorie, he will doubtless drag her all over the Highlands, taking her climbing, hiking, hunting, fishing, golfing, and who knows what all. From what his mother tells me, he is as bored with conventional society as Dorie is, and I think they will deal very nicely with each other.”

  “It does indeed sound as if they are perfectly matched. But tell me, if you do not mind revealing your professional secrets, how do you intend to arrange for them to meet each other?”

  “Oh, they have already met. He is here this evening. In fact, they are dancing together at this very moment.”

  Elizabeth turned to look. “The Scottish baron?”

  Lady Letitia nodded. “Lord Glengarry. His mother was Dorothea Beaumont before she married his father and removed to Edinburgh.”

  “But ... but, he is nothing like you described. Twice during the course of this one dance I have seen him tread on her toes, which does not speak well for his agility, and as for holding his own in intelligent conversation, so far he has given me the impression that he is a total lack-wit. If he can put two words together in a sentence, it is more than I have noticed. Are you sure his mother is not exaggerating his qualities slightly—or even greatly?”

  “He came to tea with me last week, and he is exactly as I have described him.” Lady Letitia smiled. “I have observed this evening that it is only when he is around Dorie that words fail him and he is suddenly afflicted with two left feet. I suspect that any matchmaking efforts on my part would be superfluous.”

  “Oh, dear, this is terrible,” Elizabeth said ruefully.

  “Terrible? In what way?”

  “Darius is dragging me back to Wiltshire at the end of the week, and I would dearly love to stay and observe both pairs of lovers. You must promise me, dear Lady Letitia, that you will write me long, long letters and tell me every detail of the courtships.”

  * * * *

  It was the afternoon of the next day before Joanna woke up, and she would have slept for another hour or two had not Dorie come bouncing in to see if she was awake.

  “You are not really sleeping, because your eyes are too tightly scrunched up, so you may as well stop pretending.”

  “Really, Dorie,” Joanna said without opening her eyes, “it should be obvious even to you that if I am pretending to be asleep, it must mean I do not wish to wake up yet.”

  “How can you be such a grouch this morning? We were each an absolute succès fou last night, you must admit. We did not sit out a single dance, except for the waltzes, which is the most aggravating thing.”

  Bowing to the inevitable, Joanna opened her eyes and pushed herself up in bed. “And I noticed you
even tried to dance one of the waltzes except that Nicholas stopped you before you got too far out onto the floor.”

  Dorie grinned. “Well, I warned everyone that it is my intention to scandalize the ton so that I will be sent home in great disgrace. But last night was fun in its own way, so perhaps I shall behave myself a little while first. But if I become bored, I still intend to do whatever it takes to liven things up.”

  “Did you not feel the slightest partiality to any of your partners?”

  “Actually, the only man who stands out in my mind was a singular disaster—a redheaded giant from Scotland, who seemed determined to dance on my feet instead of his own.”

  “The only Scotsman I remember is Lord Glengarry, and I found him to be quite a good dancer. Surely you cannot mean him?”

  “Yes, I believe that was the man—dressed in conservative clothes, clumsy, no conversation at all—in short, the most boring man present.”

  “No, no, you must be mistaken. That description does not at all fit the man I danced with. Perhaps there were two overly large Scotsmen with red hair?”

  “I would not know about that, but Mama has sent word that we have gentlemen callers below and that we are to present ourselves in the Chinese room as soon as possible. Perhaps he will be one of them, and we can discover if he has a twin brother.”

  “Oh,” Joanna cried, throwing back the bedclothes. “Why did you wait so long to tell me we have visitors?” Climbing out of bed, she tugged on the bell rope to summon Miss Hepden.

  Dorie shrugged. “Why should it matter to me if various and assorted young men have come to call? I have no interest in sitting indoors on such a beautiful day. I would rather go for a long walk or a gallop in the park, which is, of course, another of the pleasures forbidden to us during the Season. And you surely cannot have an interest in any of these ever-so-proper young men, because you are already in love with Nicholas. So let them sip tea with Mama until their back teeth float away, I could not care less.”

  Joanna splashed water on her face and felt a little revived. Hurriedly she began searching through her wardrobe for her new lavender dress.

  Dorie suddenly laughed out loud. “I have just thought of the most marvelous plan. If you wish to attract Nicholas’s attention, you need only make him jealous by flirting with other men.”

  “Really, Dorie, I wish you would give up all this scheming. I have told you over and over that I do not have any real expectations of winning Nicholas’s affections. I have decided that I shall spend my life as a companion to some old lady.”

  Dorie grabbed her arm and spun her around, then shoved her face up to within inches of the mirror over her dressing table. “Take a good look at what is reflected in your mirror. Yours is not the face of a dried-up spinster who reads aloud to old ladies and takes their disgusting little pugs for walks in the park. Yours is a face that inspires men to write poetry, even to fight duels over.”

  Fortunately for Joanna, Miss Hepden appeared just then and chased Dorie back to her own room with orders for her to start her own toilette.

  While the older woman combed out her tangled curls, Joanna stared at her reflection in the mirror and thought about what Dorie had said.

  Her face did have a sort of appeal, though it held no measure of classical beauty. And as Dorie had pointed out, each of their dance cards had been filled very early in the evening. And the ball had not been a repeat of the dances Joanna had attended in Brussels, when the young men had scarcely noticed that they were dancing with her. Last night her partners had focused all their attention on her, and their glances had never drifted off to admire some other beauty.

  So she should by rights have enjoyed herself immensely.

  That she hadn’t was all Nicholas’s fault. Whereas in Brussels he had been the only one to converse with her, last night he had spoken to everyone except her. Not once during the course of the evening—not during dinner or the dance afterward—had he addressed a single remark to her. Nor had he ever looked her directly in the eye. His attention, in fact, had obviously been elsewhere, and she rather suspected that he had been watching for Belinda, who was apparently not yet come to London since the footman had brought her invitation back, reporting that the knockers were not yet up on the Dillons’ front door.

  No, Nicholas had definitely singled her, Joanna, out—not as someone he especially cared about, but as someone he wanted to avoid having anything to do with. It was obvious to her that he still blamed her for almost trapping him into marriage.

  Oh, if only she could leave London and Nicholas behind and return to Colthurst Hall when Elizabeth did! But the duke had already spent so much money on her wardrobe, and Elizabeth was counting on her to deflect Dorie from following a course leading to ruin, and Nicholas was determined to find her a husband—all in all, too many people would become upset if Joanna even suggested going back to Wiltshire.

  And Joanna was too much a coward to face their combined ire.

  Chapter 9

  The first person Nicholas saw when he entered his aunt’s drawing room was the ubiquitous Scotsman. Did that blasted man have nowhere else to go? For the last sennight Glengarry had arrived with the first of the morning callers, planted himself firmly beside Joanna, and resisted all of her other suitors’ efforts to dislodge him.

  Even while Nicholas watched, Joanna looked up at the wretched man and began speaking in an animated way. What did she find in that dour, unsmiling Scot that caused her to be so free with her own smiles?

  The man was persistent, Nicholas had to give him credit for that. No matter what evening festivities Nicholas had escorted his two charges to, the man had appeared, claimed his two dances with Joanna, and spent the rest of the evening standing around near her like a lovesick calf.

  As much as it pained Nicholas to admit it, the time had come when he needed to find out exactly what the other man’s intentions were. If he was trifling with Joanna’s affections, Nicholas would challenge him to a duel and take the greatest pleasure in running his sword through the other man’s gizzard.

  On the other hand, he realized that it would be infinitely worse if the Scotsman’s intentions were honorable, because it was quite obvious to Nicholas that Joanna had a decided partiality for the taciturn baron. If Glengarry put his luck to the test and offered for her, doubtless Joanna would accept, and then where would he be?

  Where indeed? He knew precisely where. In a hell of his own making.

  But on the other hand, where would he be if he refused to allow Joanna to marry the man she loved? Deuce take it, but this was the very devil of a coil.

  Well, there was nothing for it but to speak to the man. No matter how distasteful the task, it could not be delayed much longer, because people were already beginning to talk. The Scotsman was so obvious in his pursuit of Joanna, bets would soon be laid in the clubs as to his probable success, and Nicholas would be powerless to do anything to prevent that.

  By the time Aunt Theophila rose to her feet and indicated that visiting hours were at an end, Nicholas had exhausted his meager supply of patience. Following the Scotsman out of the house, he quickly caught up with him.

  “A word with you, Glengarry, if you’ve the time.”

  The man halted his steps and turned toward Nicholas, and the look of abject misery on his face was pathetic enough that even Nicholas could not remain totally unsympathetic.

  “The time has come when you need to state your intentions.”

  The man nodded glumly. “Of course. They are honorable. I wish to marry her, the sooner the better.”

  It was as bad as Nicholas had feared. Heartsick at the possibility that he was very close to losing Joanna forever, he began walking slowly down the street, the Scotsman automatically falling in beside him.

  “Since I stand more or less as her guardian,” Nicholas said when they had covered half a block or so, “I feel it is my duty to inquire as to your prospects.”

  To Nicholas’s chagrin, the Scotsman’s prospects wer
e faultless—a large estate in the Highlands free of mortgage, ample funds inherited from his mother’s side of the family, now prudently invested in government consols, an old and respected tide, impeccable lineage.

  There was no way Nicholas could possibly refuse to let such a man make Joanna an offer. It was, in fact, a real feather in her cap that she, an orphan with no dowry and no powerful relatives, had managed to attract such an eligible parti.

  Nicholas now felt as glum as Glengarry looked. What was especially galling was the knowledge that the ton would consider it a much better match than if she were to marry Nicholas. There was, of course, the remote possibility that Joanna would turn down the offer. Women were illogical creatures, as he had learned to his chagrin, and one could gamble away a dozen fortunes trying to predict which way they would jump.

  “Joanna has been encouraging me, but I fear it is hopeless,” Glengarry muttered.

  The last of Nicholas’s hopes died a quick death. Joanna was actually encouraging the other man’s suit. But wait. Why...?

  “Why do you say ‘hopeless’? It seems to me your chances of winning her consent are excellent.”

  “Because the moment I look at her, my heart starts pounding in my chest, I become as breathless as if I had run twenty miles, and worst of all, my tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth and I cannot utter a word. She is so beautiful, but it is more than that. The first time I saw her, I knew she was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

  Whereas Nicholas had not recognized the depth of his own love until months after he met Joanna. Granted, she had been a rather forlorn little waif when he had first made her acquaintance, but still, he should have been more astute.

  “You are her cousin,” Glengarry continued, “so you are undoubtedly too accustomed to her looks to recognize what a potent effect they can have on a man.”

  Nicholas started to explain that he was not actually Joanna’s cousin when the truth suddenly hit him. Too embarrassed to admit to the other man that they had been talking the whole time at cross-purposes, he instead tested his new understanding of the situation by asking, “So you actually wish to marry my cousin Dorie?”