Page 17 of Snowed-in with Scandal
“Dramatic?” Antoinette’s voice rose. “I am being practical! Did none of you notice how he reacted when we mentioned Lushington Hall? He practically leaped from his chair! And his questions about her whereabouts—far too intense for mere familial concern.”
“The lady has a point,” Colonel Shankshaft mused, stroking his moustache. “Fellow did seem rather... eager for information.”
“Thank you, Colonel!” Antoinette seized upon his support. “You see? Even the Colonel, with all his military experience of reading men’s characters, found something amiss.”
Nicholas remained unmoved. “Speculation and feminine intuition are hardly grounds for?—”
“Then what would convince you?” Antoinette demanded, planting herself directly in front of him. “What would it take for you to act like the gentleman I know you to be instead of this bitter, wounded creature you’ve become?”
The words hung in the air like a challenge. Nicholas’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Antoinette pressed on.
“I am going to Lushington Hall with or without your assistance. I will take my carriage, and I will rescue Lady Lushington from whatever web that villain has woven around her. You may sit here nursing your pride if you choose, but I will not abandon a friend in need.”
“And I suppose you intend to storm the manor single-handedly?” Nicholas asked sardonically.
“If necessary, yes!” Antoinette raised her chin. “Though I would prefer to have sensible companions. Fanny, surely you will come with me?”
Fanny set down her embroidery with a sigh. “I suppose someone must keep you from getting yourself killed through sheer romantic excess.”
“Colonel?” Lady Quamby turned hopefully to Shankshaft.
“Well,” the Colonel said slowly, “I did promise to be your bodyguard earlier. A man of my word, you know.”
Three pairs of eyes turned expectantly to Nicholas, who found himself caught between his wounded pride and a growing unease about Arabella’s situation. Something about Algernon Lushington had bothered him, though he’d been too consumed with his own pain to examine it closely.
“This is madness,” he muttered.
“Perhaps,” Antoinette agreed cheerfully. “Ah, Fenton! Just in time!” she added as her brother-in-law entered the room. “We’re all embarking on a rescue mission, which Sarah can tell you about. But we’ll need you and Quamby to stay here in case something goes amiss.”
An hour later, they were rattling along the country roads in the Quamby carriage, with Nicholas slumped in the corner feeling thoroughly disgruntled while Antoinette chattered excitedly about rescue plans. Her sister maintained her usual composed demeanor, while the Colonel regaled them with tales of military reconnaissance.
“I still say this is a fool’s errand,” Nicholas grumbled as they approached the coaching inn where they would change horses.
“Your objections are duly noted,” Antoinette replied serenely. “But I have the most peculiar feeling that we shall find I am entirely correct about the new Lord Lushington’s villainous nature. No doubt it runs in the blood.”
The carriage pulled to a stop in the inn yard, and while they stretched their legs, waiting for fresh horses were harnessed, the colonel was asked their destination by the innkeeper who was passing by.
“Lushington Hall?” he repeated, frowning, and immediately Antoinette was at his side, asking, “Is the name familiar to you? Or perhaps you met someone who was on his way there.”
The innkeeper scratched his grizzled head and, to Nicholas’s surprise, looked uncomfortable. “I did that, m’lady.”
“I would be very interested to learn if he said anything, for in fact we are quite concerned for the welfare of a dear friend to whom this ruffian was on his way to visit.”
She felt Nicholas step forward as if he were about to interject—with scepticism, no doubt--and felt vindicated when the innkeeper said, “Truth be… there was a bit of... unpleasantness.”
Now Fanny looked suddenly interested. As for Nicholas, he seemed all ears, having previously been the most reluctant of escorts to Lady Quamby. “What sort of unpleasantness?” she inquired.
The innkeeper glanced around, as if he were nervous of being overheard. “He were traveling with another gentleman—rough-looking fellow, not the sort you’d expect to see with a man of quality. And when my stable boy carelessly dropped their trunk when he was unloading it from the carriage.” He paused, clearly distressed.
“Yes?” Nicholas prompted, his attention now fully engaged.
“Well, sir, all manner of things spilled out. Rope, and cloth for binding, and a small bottle of something that made the air smell queer when it broke. It made the stable boy quite dizzy, in fact. Then the rough fellow, he grabbed the boy and threatened him something fierce—said if he breathed a word of what he’d seen, he’d find himself floating in the river.”
The group exchanged alarmed glances.
“And the gentleman?” Colonel Shankshaft asked sharply.
“Just stood there watching, cool as you please. Never said a word to stop his companion’s threats. Then he gave the boy a coin and told him to forget what he’d seen. But the lad’s been shaking like a leaf ever since.”
