Amanda Scott (38 page)

“I am very pleased, sir, certainly, but the present matter is extremely urgent. I’m afraid Andrew means to try to persuade Mrs. Flowers to elope with him to Scotland.” She paused, watching him, half expecting him to laugh.

Instead, Lord Ashby said crossly, “Drat the boy! What can he be thinking of, to offer himself to such an unworthy piece?”

“I am persuaded that he is acting only out of his resentment toward Michael’s attempts to control him,” Anne said, “but Andrew cannot be thinking properly, for the notion of such a marriage is perfectly absurd. He is only fourteen years old, after all, and Mrs. Flowers must be all of thirty-five. I do not doubt that she has tried to persuade him to come home, but I fear she must have her hands full, for he was extremely upset last night. I mean to go after him myself, but Michael would be extremely vexed if I were to visit her on my own, and I might well miss Lady Hermione on her return, so I am hoping you will ride along with me, sir.”

He had not tried to speak, nor had he seemed really to be listening, but he frowned now, saying, “Doubt he’ll have any trouble persuading her, by Jove. She’d become a duchess, after all, with all the rights and privileges of the rank. Woman in her position would be mad to turn him down, particularly when Jake’s will has as good as thrown her out of her own house.”

“But they cannot really marry, can they?” Anne said, aghast. “Andrew is a minor. Surely, he cannot marry without permission.”

“Not here in England, he can’t, but you said they’re bound for Scotland, did you not?”

“That is what he wrote here,” she said, handing him the note, “but he is still only a boy, sir, and though he is tall for his age, no one could mistake his lack of years or believe it to be an acceptable match.”

Lord Ashby grimaced. “He may be only a boy, and a minor under English law, but he has reached the age of consent, and in Scotland he will not have to contend with any recalcitrant parson or marriage license as he would here. Don’t you recall what Jake Thornton told us that night about the ease with which a Scottish marriage may be arranged?”

“Marriage by declaration,” she said, sitting down abruptly in the nearest chair when her knees threatened to betray her. “But surely Sir Jacob was talking about grown men abducting heiresses to Gretna Green, and other such clandestine alliances, not about boys running away with thirty-five year old—” She broke off, unable to think what to call Fiona Flowers that would not offend her own already overstrained sense of propriety.

“Aye, but the law applies to all, my dear, whoever they be and whomever they might carry off to Gretna or any other damned place in Scotland. And what it means in Scotland is not the worst of it by a long chalk, I’m afraid.”

“No,” she said. “I remember now. Sir Jacob said that any marriage declared legal under Scottish law is also recognized as legal in England, so if their union is truly a lawful one in Scotland, it will be here, too. But surely you misjudge Mrs. Flowers, sir. I have met her, and I simply cannot believe she would be party to so dastardly an arrangement.”

“Bound to leap at it like a trout to a mayfly,” Lord Ashby said cynically. “What with her protector dead, not so much as a sovereign left to her, and knowing she’s to be evicted from her house at once, the way I see it, it’s the only recourse left to her, other than to return to some broth—That is,” he added with a guilty look, “she’s naught to lose and much to gain, which, if you ask me, is rather too much motivation for her to accept that misbegotten brat’s proposal of marriage.”

“Then we must go after them at once.”

“Someone should. They won’t be bound for Gretna from here, you know. Much more likely that they’ll make for Wakefield and meet the Great North Road just south of York. Where the devil’s Michael? He’d catch them quick enough with those bays of his.”

“He’s gone to Castleton,” she said, “and by the time he gets back, it will be too late. If they are really bound for Scotland, sir, we must go after them ourselves.”

Lord Ashby did not look pleased, but he nodded and said with a sigh, “I’ll send a message round to the stables.” Then, more cheerfully, he added, “Now I come to think about it, I daresay we’ll find them still in the village if we’re quick enough, or—what’s even more likely, in my opinion—we’ll meet Hermie on her way back, dragging the brat along with her by an ear.”

“Andrew’s been gone several hours,” Anne said.

“No matter. Flowers woman was bound to want to pack up her things, at least, and in my experience, packing consumes a vast amount of time—far more than one ever expects it will. But you needn’t come along, my dear. I’ll go myself. Might miss Hermie, as you say, and Michael is quite right to want you to keep your distance from that Flowers woman.”

Reluctantly, she agreed but urged him to make haste, and turned to ring for a servant herself, to send the order to the stables. Just as she put her hand on the cord, however, the sitting-room door opened and a man she recognized as one of those who helped Lord Ashby with his balloons entered, saying, “They are nearly ready now, my lord. Her ladyship said to fetch you down to the meadow at once.”

“Fetch me to the meadow,” exclaimed Lord Ashby. “What the deuce are you blathering about, Douglas?”

“The ascension, sir. She said you mean to practice again today with a bit more weight in the basket, so as to be perfectly certain there will be no difficulty tomorrow. The bag is nearly filled to capacity now. They are just waiting for you.”

“They?” Speaking at once, Anne and Lord Ashby exchanged startled looks. He demanded, “Who, exactly, is waiting for me?”

“Why, everyone, sir. His Grace, Lady Hermione, and a third lady that her ladyship said you had invited to accompany you.”

“What direction is the wind?” Lord Ashby snapped, getting to his feet so quickly that his chair tipped and nearly went over, and snatching his stick from its place against the wall.

“From the south, sir, and steady, about twenty miles per hour. If it keeps up, you could ride it straight to Scotland,” he added with a chuckle.

Heading for the door, with Anne and Douglas right behind him, Lord Ashby said, “I’ve got a devilish premonition that things are a sight worse than we thought, by Jove.”

When they emerged from the house, the first thing they saw was the bright green and gold striped balloon rising gently into the sky. Three figures occupied the wicker basket beneath it, and to Anne’s astonishment, all three had the audacity to wave.

Lord Ashby’s second man could be seen now, running toward them across the stable yard. He began speaking before he reached them. “My lord, my lord, I swear ’twere none o’ my doing! She cut the tie-ropes first with that knife what you keeps in the basket, and then damned if she didn’t cut the tether as well!”

“By Jove, I’ll murder the lot of them,” Lord Ashby roared. “Tell them to bring my curricle round at once, Douglas, with a full team hitched to it, damn your eyes! I’ll take Lord Michael’s bays, if he didn’t take them himself!”

Douglas was staring at the rapidly rising balloon, his eyes round with shock, his mouth agape. Only when Lord Ashby prodded him with his stick did he leap to action.

“I’m going with you,” Anne announced, “and it is no use to try to stop me, sir, for I mean to be there when you catch them if we have to drive all the way to Scotland.”

“I’ll not waste time arguing with you,” he said. “I need to fetch my driving coat, in any case. You fetch a cloak, too, for it’s bound to be a dusty ride and there’s every chance we won’t catch them before nightfall. And leave word for Michael,” he called after her as she ran ahead of him back into the house.

She obeyed him as far as fetching her cloak was concerned but as she scrabbled through her wardrobe to find a hat with a veil to keep the dust off her face, she decided not to leave a note for Michael. To write a full explanation would take too long, she reasoned; therefore, the less anyone said to him, the better it would be for all of them. When she hurried into the stable yard ten minutes later, still pinning her hat into place, she found Lord Ashby already on the point of climbing into his curricle, aided by both of his men, who were clearly chagrined at having allowed his precious aerostat to escape their custody.

Striving to look and sound much calmer than she felt, she said to them, “We can scarcely pretend to you two that the balloon broke free, but I will ask you to extend that explanation to anyone else who might ask about it. At least”—she looked anxiously from one to the other—“I hope you have not already told anyone else what you told us.”

“No, your ladyship,” they said in unison, and the second man, scraping his boot through the dust and avoiding her eye, added in a small voice, “Didn’t want no one else to know we was outsmarted by her ladyship, ma’am.”

“Excellent,” Anne said approvingly. “I am very pleased that you showed such good sense.” When they both began to look more cheerful, she added kindly, “There is little cause for concern, you know. His lordship has shown Lady Hermione how to manage the aerostat, and she will no doubt bring them down quite safely, so I hope you will continue to behave sensibly. I will be most displeased if I find everyone gossiping about this when I return. Say nothing at all. Do you understand me?”

“Aye, my lady,” the men said, tugging their forelocks.

Lord Ashby said, “It’s doubtless no more than a damn-fool prank of His Grace’s, Douglas, but in any event, get the wagon moving as soon as you can. Just follow the balloon—but you know that much. They think they’re headed for Scotland, but I daresay they won’t get that far. Still, when it comes down, you’ll have to ask for help as you go, for I’ll not wait for you. And don’t dawdle talking to folks. I know a good many will be thinking we’ve cheated them by sending the damned thing up today instead of waiting till tomorrow. We’ll deal with that problem later.”

He grimaced, then shot his unhappy henchmen a grim look, adding, “I’ll have something to say to you both later, but for now, just do as you’re told. Keep a still tongue in your heads, as Lady Michael commanded, or, by Jove, I’ll cut them out—aye, and your livers too, while I’m at it. Stand away from them now!”

They rolled down the drive, picking up speed as they went, and it was plain to Anne from the way Lord Ashby feather-edged the first corner that he did not intend to spare Lord Michael’s favorite team. Anne knew the anxious henchmen would follow as quickly as they could with the wagon, but they would be of no help in the chase. She just hoped she and Lord Ashby could keep the balloon in sight. Although presently it appeared to be drifting along the same course as the main road, she knew from her own experience with the unpredictable craft that one could not depend upon it to do so for long.

She could hear Lord Ashby’s voice above the loud clatter of hoofbeats and rattling wheels; however, since he was apparently not speaking to her but only muttering threats and epithets, she kept silent, making no attempt to listen or to speak to him until he took a bend in the road at such speed that she had to clutch the side of the curricle to keep from being flung out.

“Please, sir, slow down,” she cried, grabbing her hat with her other hand when a gust of wind threatened to snatch it from her head. “We won’t catch them at all if you overturn us or if one of those horses breaks a leg.”

His muttering increased in volume, but since he was driving Lord Michael’s bays, the last named possibility was terrifying enough to make him draw in a bit, and when the team slowed to a trot, he snapped, “Damned foolishness!”

“It is criminal, not foolhardy,” Anne said tartly. “Why, this is no more than an illegal abduction, plain and simple.”

“Idiotic female,” Lord Ashby growled, using his whip deftly to deter the offside leader from kicking its wheeler.

“I do not think she is idiotic at all,” Anne said. “She is just plain mercenary, that’s all, and I wouldn’t have thought it of her. There must be a law against what she is doing, and if there isn’t one, they ought to draft one in Parliament.”

“Laws never meant much to that totty-headed wench,” Lord Ashby said more calmly, shooting her a look of wry amusement.

“Goodness, sir, I did not realize you knew her as well as all that.”

“Known her most of my life,” he said, looking surprised. “Never been much amazed by any maggot she’s taken into her head before, but this takes the prize.”

“Well, I should certainly hope so,” Anne said. “Stealing a child must be about the worst thing anyone could do.”

“By Jove, it ain’t the brat she’s stolen,” Lord Ashby said indignantly. “It’s my brand new balloon!”

“Well, in all fairness, I don’t really think we can blame Mrs. Flowers for taking the balloon, sir. I daresay she—”

“Who the devil said anything about Mrs. Flowers? I’m talking about that damned scamp Hermione. She had no business encouraging that brat and his … his … whatever she is, to steal my balloon to take them to Scotland. Nor she hadn’t any call to go along with them. Only look at those clouds gathering yonder over the moors. If they ain’t thunderheads, you may call me a Dutchman. They’ll be devilish lucky if they ain’t blown out to sea or struck by lightning before this mad escapade is done.”

Anne saw at once that he was right about the clouds gathering in the north, and repressed a shiver of fear at the sight. The puffy white thunderheads did not really look ominous yet, but she feared Lord Ashby would prove to be right. In any case, the balloon was drifting steadily toward the clouds.

“Can they really make it all the way to Scotland, sir?”

“Could, I expect,” he said, still watching the balloon. He cast an eye northward again, and she saw him frown. “Doubt they will do so today, however. Unless I miss my guess, those clouds gathering like they are mean there will soon be a shift in this wind. Look up at the ones forming right over our heads now.”

She did so, and saw that there were a few wispy clouds scattered above, all moving at the same speed as the balloon, which no longer seemed to be rising. She said, “Everything above us is going steadily north, and the balloon is moving well ahead of us. If they don’t come down soon, I’m afraid we’ll never catch them in time.”