Lord Sebastian's Secret (The Duke's Sons #3)(39)
“She’s sending your brother,” added the marchioness. She tried to speak blandly, but Sebastian got a clear sense of a woman getting the better of an argument at last.
The marquess glared at the group with a mixture of defiance and contrition.
“Which brother?” Sebastian asked.
“Randolph,” supplied his hostess.
Sebastian groaned softly. If anything could have killed his appetite at this point, the news that a brother had been dispatched to sort him out would have done it. He supposed this was his mother’s idea of just retribution for what she probably characterized as “antics.” She would have known that he would never elope.
If she’d had to send a brother, she could’ve drafted Robert. He’d have made a joke of the whole matter and charmed everyone so thoroughly that they saw it the same way. Alan or James might have refused to be embroiled in such a tangle at all. Nathaniel was still on his honeymoon. Mama couldn’t order him and Violet about quite so easily, anyway.
Randolph, though. Sebastian nearly groaned again. Randolph was usually glad for an excuse to take a few days’ leave from his far-northern parish. And he positively delighted in helping. Sebastian supposed that was why he’d become a parson. Part of the reason. He’d also been asking “why” since he could speak. According to family legend, that had been the first word Randolph learned. Sebastian certainly remembered being followed about by a relentlessly inquisitive toddler.
Nathaniel, a responsible six-year-old, had become so tired of saying he didn’t know that he’d taken to making things up. Sebastian still sometimes had to remind himself that discarded snakeskins were products of reptilian growth rather than intense surprise. Sebastian smiled. Randolph had spent several months trying to startle snakes out of their skin after that tale.
Then Sebastian’s smile died, and he put down his last sandwich. Randolph would revel in Mr. Mitra and the marquess’s lectures on reincarnation. There would be no end to his questions, or to the incomprehensible discussions after the ladies had left the dinner table. Sebastian only just resisted putting his head in his hands.
Georgina was looking at him, though, her expression anxious. He tried a reassuring smile. From her response, he judged that it was only marginally effective. He bolstered it, vowing to deal with Randolph. He would face anything to save her distress.
Georgina stood, holding her still half-full plate to her chest. “I believe I’ll go to my room now,” she said. “I’m quite tired.”
Her father looked guilty, her mother approving. Sebastian wondered at the determination on her face. It seemed excessive for a walk up a few steps. Was her leg hurting? One look at her father told him he would not be allowed to assist her to a bed.
Night had deepened by the time Georgina managed to hunt down Hilda and corner her in a little-used reception room, where she’d apparently been holed up for a good while, judging from the cake crumbs. Georgina stationed herself between her youngest sister and the door and confronted her with hands on hips. “Have you lost your mind?” she demanded.
For a moment, it seemed that Hilda might deny everything, but then she slumped back on the sofa and let out a long sigh. “I only meant to leave you overnight, but everything went wrong from the very first. Whitefoot didn’t like being led. He jerked the rein right out of my hand and ran away. I had to take your Sylph to the Evans farm before I could chase after him. It took hours before I got him there as well.” She paused and looked indignant. “Emma abandoned me! She turned tail and rode home. And she’s been practically hiding in her bedchamber ever since.”
“Perhaps she feels a sense of remorse for having done something absolutely outrageous,” Georgina suggested.
Hilda wrinkled her nose. “Well, we came back first thing the next morning to get you.”
“That does not excuse…”
“And you were gone!” Hilda actually dared to look reproachful. “As if you’d vanished into thin air.”
“Thick mud, more like,” said Georgina.
“If you had just waited, or only walked a little way along the trail, we would have found you. And there wouldn’t have been such a very great fuss. Why didn’t you? How could you be so clumsy as to fall into a gully?” Hilda cocked her head. “I never even knew it was there.”
“Don’t even dream of blaming this on me!” Georgina gazed at her sister. They were alike in coloring and frame, but apparently their minds ran on entirely different paths. “What did you expect to accomplish by this…this idiotic prank?”
“I thought Papa would make you get married right away,” came the prompt reply.
The gaze Hilda turned on Georgina was guileless. She truly didn’t seem to see the many shortcomings of her plan. “Because you’re impatient?” Georgina asked, though she knew the answer already.
“I simply cannot bear living in this place any longer,” Hilda declared with a toss of her head and a wide gesture worthy of the London stage.
Georgina let the implications of that pass for now. She had larger questions. “But when you couldn’t find us, why in the world did you tell everyone we’d eloped? You knew it was a lie. And a malicious one at that.”
Hilda squirmed in her seat. “I couldn’t figure out what had become of you! We searched, but Emma kept distracting me with her worrying, and then her blubbering. I didn’t know what to do! And when we finally had to come home, I was afraid Emma would blurt out the whole before I had a chance to…to manage the story. I had to speak first. I was flustered. And…it just came out of my mouth.”