Lord Sebastian's Secret (The Duke's Sons #3)(38)

They rode directly to the stables when they reached the castle. Sebastian had a feeble hope that he might get some food and a bath before facing the family. But word of their return spread like lightning through the place. They’d hardly made it to the front door when Georgina’s parents were upon them.

“Where the devil have you been?” roared the marquess in fine, old patriarchal style.

“Your clothes, your hair,” Georgina’s mother exclaimed. “You look like you’ve been dragged through the spinney backwards.”

Georgina put a hand to her snarled tresses. For the first time, she looked distressed.

Sebastian couldn’t have that. He stepped forward to shield her. “We had an accident at the prospect overlooking the waterfall.”

“You call eloping with my daughter an accident?” growled his host, red-faced and furious.

“There’s been some mistake about that, sir. We had no thought of an elopement. Nothing of the sort. Wouldn’t dream of such a thing. It was…”

“Then where have you been for four days?” the marquess interrupted. “Four days, you blackguard, God knows where, alone with my daughter. Do you tell me you’re not married?”

“I fell into a ravine,” Georgina shouted. Volume seemed to be the only way to get her father’s attention. “Sebastian saved my life!”

This was an exaggeration, but Sebastian let it go. It made a good impression.

“Ravine?” echoed the marquess, turning on her. “What ravine?”

“There’s a narrow crevice near the place we always go to view the waterfall, Papa. I didn’t know it was there either, until I blundered into it. It’s masked with bushes and brambles.” She held out her hand to show her scratches. “I injured my leg rather badly in the fall. I must sit down, Papa.”

Sebastian noted that she exaggerated her limp as she went over to a chair and sank into it.

“You must be taken up to your room,” said her mother, stepping forward. “I’ll send for the doctor.”

“And something to eat, Mama.” Georgina gave her parents a tragic face. “We’ve had no food in all this time. We’re starving.”

This combined appeal temporarily ended the interrogation. Orders flew about. The marquess carried Georgina upstairs, having fiercely rejected Sebastian’s offer to do so.

Twenty minutes later, the errant couple was settled on separate chairs in the drawing room in quickly changed clothing, faces and hands washed, with trays of sandwiches before them. Only the master and mistress of Stane Castle were in attendance. Everyone else had been dismissed. Hilda had done her best to linger, Sebastian observed. He suspected she was even now listening at the keyhole, but he was too busy devouring the most delicious bread, mustard, and roast beef he’d ever tasted to care. He let Georgina tell their tale; she knew her parents best.

“And so we walked east,” she ended after a time. “And Sebastian’s valet discovered us not far past the Dyke.” She frowned at her parents. “He seemed to be the only one out searching.”

“Hilda said you’d eloped,” replied her father defensively. “Fergus and I led a party up the north road. When we found no trace, we thought you were long gone to Gretna Green.”

“More than two hundred miles? On horseback?” Georgina asked incredulously.

Her mother gestured at the marquess. “Alfred supposed you’d made arrangements.” The look she gave him had an I-told-you-so air.

“Why, Papa? Why would you imagine we’d eloped? Why should we? We’re getting married in a few weeks!”

“Hilda seemed so certain,” he muttered.

“Hilda!” Georgina stared at her parents until they dropped their eyes.

“This does not change the fact that you were gone for days,” said her father. “Out there, alone.” He gestured at the window. “Very compromising situation.”

“We’re getting married, Papa.” One of Georgina’s hands reached out, as if of its own accord, and took Sebastian’s. He squeezed it reassuringly. “No one need know about this,” she added. “We’re far from the London gossips here.”

“I fear it won’t be quite so easy,” answered her mother. Her tone was regretful and somehow smug at the same time.

“Why not?” asked Georgina. She looked from one parent to the other, frowning.

“Your papa told the duchess,” answered her mother.

“What!” exclaimed Sebastian, dropping his fiancée’s hand and sitting bolt upright. He grabbed for the tray as it nearly toppled off his knees.

“He wrote to her. Sent a fast courier.”

Sebastian closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He could all too easily picture this astonishing news running through his family—the letters flying back and forth, the disbelief and consternation. The surreptitious brotherly smirking. An image of his mother’s astonished face made him wince.

“Some people think I don’t care about convention,” muttered the marquess. “Not true. And this was too much. An elopement!”

“Except that it wasn’t, Papa,” Georgina pointed out. “It was an unfortunate accident. I think you might have had more faith in my character.”

Frowning at the floor, the older man said something too softly to be heard. Sebastian thought it might have been, “It wasn’t you I was worried about.”