Page 3 of The Banished Bride
The baron’s face turned an angry shade of red. “Remember, two more years, then out onto the streets you go as well.” he snarled. “And may you starve in the gutter for all I care, you meddlesome woman. If it weren’t for the fact that the little hellion would raise more trouble than its worth, I’d turn your sour face out far sooner than that.”
“Unnatural man,” said the governess, uncowed by his threats. “You are as monstrous a father as you were a husband.”
He looked as if to speak, but then simply turned on his heel and stalked off to where Woodbridge and his sons were milling about in some uncertainty.
“I’ve arranged for a wedding breakfast at Trumbull Close before all of you head back to Town,” he announced with a brittle joviality. His gaze ran over the gentlemen while speaking, and the forced smile slowly disappeared as he counted only three of them. “I say, where the devil is my daughter’s husband? Can’t have a proper wedding breakfast without the damn fellow.”
All eyes turned on Lord Harry Fenimore. He swallowed hard. “Ah, well, as to that, I’m afraid Alex is in a bit of a hurry.” Before anyone could press him further on the matter, the groom reappeared from a side vestry, slightly more steady on his feet this time around.
The Earl of Woodbridge began to voice his displeasure but stopped short on seeing that his youngest son had already shrugged out of his coat of navy superfine and had the scarlet regimentals of a lieutenant in the Horse Guards draped over his broad shoulders. “So, I see you have wasted no time in purchasing your colors,” he growled after a moment.
“I’ve kept my end of the bargain, Father.” His lips curled up in undisguised contempt. “Knowing the value of your word, I took no chance that you might renege on the rest of the deal and had Perkins finish all the arrangements and the transfer of funds before I left Town.”
“Ungrateful whelp,” snarled the earl. “I should take a belt to your hide for such disrespect.”
A slow smile played on Alex’s rugged features as he straightened to his full, not inconsiderable height. “Would you care to try it again, sir? As I recall, your last attempt resulted in a black eye and two broken ribs. Not mine, I might add, though I was a good deal smaller than you at the time.”
His father choked down a curse but edged back a step.
“As for being ungrateful,” continued Alex. “On the contrary, dear pater—I am most thankful for the chance to put as much distance as possible between myself and your clutch-fisted attempts at tyranny. Indeed, my regiment sets sail for India tonight on the ebb tide.”
“India!” sputtered Trumbull, his pudgy face growing pale with dismay. “Why, that’s …” He had to close his eyes and think for a moment. “… far away. Very far away. How long will you be gone.”
Alex shrugged. “I’ve no idea. The longer, the better.”
“B-but your father promised you would take the chit off my hands when she turned sixteen.”
“Did he?” He began to do up the row of polished gold buttons. “Then I suggest you discuss the matter with him. It’s of no interest to me what you two scoundrels have arranged. I doubt I shall ever lay eyes on the girl again.”
“But …” Trumbull’s words trailed off as Alex moved behind a pew and stepped out of his pantaloons and dress pumps. Taking out a pair of buckskins breeches from the small valise he had brought in with him, he pulled them on and started to tuck in his shirt.
The baron tried another tack. “You have a responsibility to the girl! She’s your wife, for God’s sake—you can’t just abandon her.”
“Can’t I?” he replied coolly. “She is my wife in name only. As far as I’m concerned, I am as much a pawn in this grotesque game as she is. If you are so worried about her welfare, see to it yourself.”
“Woodbridge!” he cried, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. “What about your promise?”
The earl shuffled from one foot to another. “I suppose we might pack her off to Rexford House. It’s the smallest and most rundown of the Woodbridge lands. And the most isolated. Itpassed to Alex directly from his grandfather on his reaching his majority.” He pursed his lips. “Yes, that should answer for it. Trust me, she will be well out of your way there and won’t be able to raise any trouble.”
The baron looked somewhat placated. “You’ll raise no fuss about such an arrangement, Fenimore?
“None whatsoever.” Alex tugged on his Hessians and straightened his collar. “I told you, do whatever you wish with her. I couldn’t care less.” Hoisting his valise in one hand, he made one last adjustment to his coat and started for the door. “Harry. Charles. Come walk me to my horse so that we may say a proper goodbye. God knows if or when I shall ever see England again.”
Two
The young lady looked up from the letter she was writing. “What was that, Robbie?”
“I hate to disturb you when you are in the middle of your paperwork, especially as I know that Her Grace is being particularly demanding these days—” A loud sneeze interrupted her words ”—but I’m afraid there is something that cannot wait.”
Aurora Sprague looked up. Or, to be totally correct, Elizabeth Jane Aurora Fenimore looked up. But as she had always favored Aurora over the others, and had long ago discarded her married name for that of her mother’s family, it was the moniker by which she was known.
“The crotchety old battle axe may be particularly demanding, but she is also our best client.” Aurora smiled and held up a leather purse that looked to be quite weighty. “Her Grace is also particularly pleased with the result of our last little investigation. This was just sent round and what I am struggling with is the composition of a particularly effusive thank you note. If you can think of any really obsequious adjectives, I should be most grateful, for on that subject my vocabulary is decidedly weak.” Her expression then became a good deal more serious. “But enough joking. What’s wrong?”
Miss Edith Robertson mirrored her former charge’s grave countenance. “Mary Tillson is downstairs. I think you had better come at once and see for yourself.”
“Oh dear.” She tossed her pen aside and pushed back from her desk. “Are the beatings getting worse, then?”
The older woman’s lips thinned to a tight line. She nodded.
