And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake(103)

When all eyes turned on the girl, she blushed deeply, already regretting her hasty words. “I warned Daphne this would all turn out bad,” she said in her own defense. “Tried to convince her—”

“We will discuss this later, Philomena,” Damaris told her.

Hen, meanwhile, had turned back to Preston and was shaking the note under his nose. “You know what this is, what this means.”

“What does it mean?” Tabitha asked, her solemn question lending a moment of calm to the rising panic in Hen’s voice.

“It’s Henry’s handwriting,” Preston told her, told all of them.

“Oh, I knew it all along!” Harriet declared. “Lord Henry is Mr. Dishforth. How perfect!”

Though as it turned out, no else seemed to be sharing her joy.

Especially not Damaris Dale. She rounded on Preston. “Now, Your Grace, explain all this. Immediately.” Her cane came down with a sharp rap.

Preston didn’t have time, for Hen, having added it all up, now turned on him, fury in her eyes. “That abominable advertisement of yours! This is all your doing,” she blasted, wagging an accusing finger at the duke. “You and Roxley.” She cast a disparaging glance at the earl, who was lounging on the stairs.

Roxley shrugged, as if he hadn’t the slightest notion of what she was saying. But he also did so as he took two steps back up the stairs, distancing himself from this growing scandal.

And then Preston explained all he knew—about the ad, about Henry’s part in all of it—with Tabitha, Harriet and Philomena filling in Daphne’s portion.

“I should have known you had a hand in this disgrace.” Lady Damaris wagged an aggrieved finger at Preston, sparing Roxley just a shuddering glance for his part. “Now tell me once and for all, where has your uncle taken my niece?”

“Gretna Green, I imagine,” Preston told her.

Damaris’s eyes widened, then narrowed into two tight slits. “I should have known. This is all my fault for turning a blind eye to Daphne’s stubborn determination to keep such company.” This was followed with a scathing glance at Tabitha.

“Never fear, Aunt Damaris,” Crispin told her, taking her hand. “I shall get our Daphne back.” Then he turned to Preston. “And woe be it to Lord Henry when I get my hands on him.”

“Is that necessary?” Preston demanded. “After all, we have every reason to believe they are in love.”

Honestly, he had no idea if that was true or not, but it was a far sight better than unleashing another civil war between their families.

Besides, the Seldons were sadly outnumbered.

“Love! Harrumph!” Damaris wagged a bony finger at them. “Be well reminded of what happened to Kendrick Seldon when he lured Miss Delicia Dale into an ill-advised elopement.”

With that said, the old girl turned and stormed over to her carriage, Crispin and Philomena in her wake.

Roxley had come down the steps to stand beside Preston, most likely to gain a better vantage point. He leaned over and asked, “Whatever happened to this Kendrick fellow?”

Preston told him, though not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

But the meaning of his words were clear as Roxley blanched, then flinched, his hand going to cover the upper part of his breeches, as if to ward off such a fate.



The Hornbill & Cross, Manchester Road

Twenty-four hours later

“And that’s the whole story,” the posting lad told the overflowing room at the inn in Bradnop. He had arrived from Swinescote with the tale, having heard it from the lad who rode between Swinescote and Mackworth. “There isn’t a soul up and down the road who hasn’t heard of them. The runaway lovers. They say the lady is ever-so-pretty. She has eyes like June bells.”

There were sighs from some of the ladies, guffaws from the old duffers with their half-filled tankards.

“I don’t get them toffs,” a gruff old drover said from his stool near the fire. “Why doesn’t he just tell ’er there is no other fellow? That this Dishworth—”

“Dishforth,” the lad corrected.

“Eh, Dishworth, Dishforth, what does it matter if the plain truth is he don’t exist?”

“Oh, but Sulley, he does,” the serving girl told him. “Didn’t you listen to Timmy’s tale? Dishforth is this Lord Henry, and he must love his lady ever so much to go to such lengths to win her heart.”