Herbert Ormond strode up to Ben’s side in a purposeful manner, and Clara listened while the two men discussed the situation in a brief, dispassionate fashion that sounded bizarre to her feminine ears. All the while she was conscious of the pressure of Ben’s hand on her arm, as though he was afraid of losing her.
“You didn’t find her?” Herbert asked.
“No, she’s gone.”
“What do we do?”
“Do you mean to help?” Ben asked.
“Certainly. Where do you think she’d go?”
“Either Gretna Green or London.”
“She managed to meet Moore then?” Clara wondered when Ormond had been let in on the secret.
“She must have,” Ben replied. “I took a nip to Branelea. They say she went off with a fellow in a carriage like his. The man didn’t come to the door, so it must have been prearranged between them. I put my money on London.”
“I’ll check out the road to Scotland,” Herbert said. “I’ll ask Max to drive Mrs. Rattigan home.”
“And the Snelley sisters,” Ben said.
That was all. No bickering, no interesting details, no mention of other possibilities. Just facts and decisions.
“Good. We’ll head to London. Come on, Clara.” Already Ben was turning to walk away, while the bride and groom still stood in the center of the group.
“I can’t go. I have to make the punch.” Regret stabbed like a knife, to have to miss out on the chase. “Oh dear, I should have left ages ago.”
“Go with him,” Herbert urged. “A woman might come in handy.”
“What about the punch?” Clara asked. Keen as she was to go, she knew her duty lay at Branelea, with the sparkling water and fruit juice.
“Let them drink champagne,” Allingcote decreed, and pulled her away, protesting at every step, till at last at the carriage door he relented. “All right, go to Branelea. I shouldn’t have asked you to come, but
be there
when I get back.”
“Well—maybe I should go with you,” she said, undecided. Nel Muldoon’s future was surely more important than three bowls of punch, and if she could help . . .
Her decision was made for her. She was hauled into Ben’s elegant carriage and was off down the road, without even passing her duty regarding the punch on to another. She knew it was abominable to serve Lady Lucker such a stunt, but in all her visits, she had never been in on a runaway match before, and it was so very exciting. And such a comfortable carriage, with velvet squabs, heated bricks, and a fur rug. She spent the next few moments mentally devising excuses to be made when she got back, then suddenly realized Ben was speaking and switched her attention to him.
“What beats me is how she got in touch with him. She can’t have seen him. Ormond says she wasn’t speaking to a single soul when she was with him. He was certainly not around when I was with her. He must have smuggled a note to her at Branelea, or the inn.”
“Do you think she’s run away to be married?”
“Certainly, it’s not the first time.”
“You never told me that!”
“I very nearly let it out at the inn. I promised Nel I wouldn’t tell anyone. Even Mama and Maggie don’t know. I only told Ormond.”
“Why did you tell him?”
“He asked me. He wasn’t taken in by our story of her dashing away from school, once he realized she’d been out of school for over a year.”
“I’m sure I asked you a dozen times what she had done!”
“It’s different, Clara. He’s a man. Now don’t hit the roof. I had an inkling I would need his help, and as I hoped to get him to relieve me of her somewhat, I thought it best to take him into my confidence. If you had accidentally let something slip, every soul at the wedding would have known before the day was out. Nel would be ruined.”
“I am not a gossip. I wouldn’t have told anyone.”
“You might have mentioned it to Maggie or Aunt Charity.”
“Or inserted an advertisement in the papers for the world to read,” she said, glaring.
“I was very glad I hadn’t told you, with the agitated state you were in this morning. You must admit you would have done her an injury if you could, after her stunt last night.”
“I am not so vengeful as that.” Clara fell silent for a moment, but she was not considering her ill-treatment, as Ben thought. When she spoke, it was on a different matter entirely. “I was just thinking...” Ben’s gray eyes lifted in interest. “This George Moore ...”
“What about him? You said she didn’t speak to anyone when she was out with you.”
“She spoke to Captain Carruthers.”
“Captain Carruthers ain’t George Moore.” He stopped speaking and stared. “Is he?”
“That possibility had just occurred to me.”
“You said Aunt Charity knows him.”
“She knows
of him.
She hasn’t met him.”
“I don’t see how Moore could have latched on to his name.”
“Your aunt didn’t actually mention his name. She had heard of a retired officer coming to the neighborhood. That’s all.”
“From your description, the captain can’t possibly be Moore.”
“Maggie’s description of Moore, and Nel’s too, is dramatically different from yours. They both said he is devastatingly handsome, and so was Captain Carruthers. It seems an odd coincidence. Ben, do you think—”
A frown drew his eyebrows together. “Describe the captain to me.”
“He was tall, about six feet, jet black hair, lovely blue eyes—the shade of bluebells, you know, not dark, but not light either.” Ben’s frown deepened. “Well dressed, very fine teeth.”
“Oh God, it can’t be him,” he moaned, more in hope than conviction.
“He was not in the least greasy,” she offered as encouragement.
“Clara, I didn’t mean he greased his hair, or wore oil-soaked jackets. His manner is smooth, oily.”
“His
manner?”
she asked, astounded. “Do you mean to sit there and tell me you described that Adonis to me as a greasy hedgebird?”
“If he’s Adonis, I’m the King of France. He’s a demmed caper merchant, smiling and smirking and scraping his leg at all the girls.”
“Captain Carruthers did not smirk. He had a very gentle, shy smile, and he was certainly a real gentleman. There was none of that self-conscious strutting of the parvenu trying to look at ease among his betters. About Moore, how are his teeth?”
“Just teeth—rather large, white, straight.”
“I would not call the captain’s teeth
large.
They were just the right size for his mouth,” she said pensively.
“It’s got to be him.”
“It must be. Nel exchanged a few words with him. There is no other way she could have contacted Moore. At least I know who we’re looking for. And as you have given me your description of his spavin-backed team, I shall be on the lookout for a bang-up pair of grays and a carriage of the first stare.”
“The rig is dark blue,” Ben said resignedly.
“Oh how could you give me such a poor description of the man? Have you no eyes in your head? Moore is the most handsome man I ever saw.”
“You’ve made that amply clear, Clara,” he snapped. “He’s a demmed greasy hedgebird, and he’s probably not Carruthers at all. God, how I rue the day I got saddled with that pest of a girl. I wish I had given her the thrashing of her life last night, as I wanted to. I should have broken both her legs. That would have slowed her down.”
“How did you come to get saddled with her?” Clara asked calmly. She was becoming inured to his exaggerated speeches.
“Her guardian. Papa’s good friend, is old, and not well since she was foisted on him. Seeing what a rare handful he had inherited, he invited me to his place, trying to convince me to take her on permanently, as my wife. She was fifteen at the time. It was just before I went to the Bellinghams’, in fact. Papa was still alive then.”
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t say no at once, as I should have. At fifteen, she was less forward. She had a huge dowry, and she’s damnably attractive, Clara. I don’t understand why you ladies can’t see it.”
“I don’t understand why you call Captain Moore a greasy hedgebird.”
“Of course her manners were not polished then.”
“Unlike the high gloss they now wear,” Clara snipped.
“She was young, orphaned. I thought with time and effort, she might make a good wife. Till I went to the Bellinghams’ and met
you,”
he said. The last words, spoken in a tense voice, caused Clara to look up in surprise. She found Ben studying her with a penetrating gaze, and her heart raced.
“I had more or less indicated to Anglin that I would keep an eye on Nel,” Ben continued, “though I told him immediately upon my return that I would not be marrying her. I hoped Mama would have her to Braemore for longish visits, and Maggie might become her friend, but she proved uncongenial company. They both took her in strong dislike.”
“I can’t imagine why!”
A muscular spasm moved his mouth. “To continue with the saga, I visited Anglin and Nel as often as I could get away, took her around here and there when she came out of school last year, but there was never any question of marriage. Then Mr. Moore turned up from God knows where, but accompanied by an unsavory reputation. Duns followed him, you know, and soon a story of unpaid bills in the village. Nel was immediately infatuated,
having very bad taste,”
he added with heavy emphasis.
“How did she meet him?”
“At a public assembly, initially. Anglin is now stricter about where he lets Nel go. Moore was allowed to call once or twice, before his reputation was known. Then he was denied access to the house. I don’t know what Nel may have contrived about meeting him elsewhere. Two weeks ago, she vanished. Tolkein had come down with measles, you recall, and Nel was being looked after by one of the older servants. Nel said she was tired and wanted to lie down. She sent the woman to the kitchen to press some gowns. When they took food up to Nel later, she was gone. Anglin immediately sent word to me at Braemore. I dashed over and decided the best thing was to bolt my team to the border, for I was pretty sure Moore meant to marry her, to get his hands on her fortune. That is his line of business, attempting to make a runaway marriage with an unsuspecting heiress.”
“I would not call Miss Muldoon unsuspecting now. Surely she realizes after that dash to Gretna Green—And why do you think they are not headed there again?”
“He’s too sly to try the same destination twice. The biggest city offers the most places of concealment. I wager it’s London. Poor Nel.”
“Poor Moore,” Clara retorted.
“She’s still young, Clara. I know her being an orphan doesn’t serve as an excuse with you. I expect I was more impressed with it than I should have been, but she is not calm and cautious like you.”
“She’s a featherheaded ninny.”
“Exactly. If only Mama and Maggie—I wanted to help her somehow. Perhaps I felt guilty at not marrying her as Anglin wanted. Papa thought it an excellent match as well. She proved too much for Anglin. He had a stroke when she took off, and I was obliged to remain with them for the week before Christmas to watch her. It was during that time we got in touch with the Bertrams in London. They are related to her, a younger couple, which is all to the good. They agreed to take her on, but they were leaving town for the holiday, and so I had to bring her with me to the wedding.”
“What happened when she ran off with Moore?”
“I overtook them at Brackley, just fifty miles away from Anglin’s place. Moore’s spavin-backed team made poor time. Of course it helped that Nel can never drive through a village without getting down to shop, and usually to eat as well. I tried to loosen a couple of his wonderful white teeth, but they’re long-rooted. I managed to get her home before morning, and as it has been kept hushed up, she is not considered ruined.”
Clara listened closely, and when he finished she said, “I think you should have let her marry him. No, I don’t though,” she said reconsidering. “He’s too good for her.”
Ben’s face was a mask of outrage. “Too
good!
Clara, he’s only after her money.”
“What of it? Lots of people marry for money, and he’d earn every penny of it. It is considered unexceptionable if a penniless beauty nabs a rich gentleman. Why should poor, beautiful men and rich ladies not be given the same privilege? I say Nel should be allowed to buy her penniless Adonis if she wants him. But I still think he’s too good for her.” As an afterthought she added, “I wish I could afford him myself, providing he is Captain Carruthers, of course.”
“Upon my word, you’ve taken leave of your senses.”
“Not at all. What is money for, if not to buy what you want? If Nel wants him and can afford him, let her have him. Don’t try to tell me that
whatever
his character is, it is one shade blacker than hers.”
“But she’s a lady!”
“Is spending money the prerogative of men alone? This is news to me. I haven’t much, but I spend it exactly as I wish, and would advise Miss Muldoon to do likewise.”
“I always took you for such a sensible lady. You’re as foolish as Nel.”
“I have been a poor little orphan since I was a child,” she said, assuming a sad countenance.
“You’ve become a brazen baggage since I last knew you.”
“Only since I have had the advantage of Miss Muldoon’s acquaintance. I see I have been much too nice in my demands on myself. But tell me, since you spent the week before Christmas with Nel, how did Moore get to her to arrange this second attempt?”
“It must have been on Christmas day. I could not take her to Braemore, for fear of disrupting the family Christmas. I made Prissie’s wedding sound as enticing as I could, hoping to keep her from dashing off before I got back, and thought I had succeeded. Lord, what a time to be hobbled with her presence.”
“You are in everyone’s black books, except possibly Herbert’s, by bringing her to the wedding.”
“The wedding?” he asked, surprised. “I didn’t mean that.”
“What did you mean then?”
“I meant having her along when I finally found
you,
tumbleweed, after two long years.”
“I have not been lost,” she said in a failing voice, as some idea of his import washed over her joyful body.
“You have been lost to me. For twenty-four months I have been scouring this country and Scotland looking for you.”