Page 65 of How to Cross a Marquess (The Way to a Lord's Heart 3)

“Because eloping is a terrible thing to do?” she asked.

“Because she was sixteen, and her parents didn’t like him. With some reason, I must say.”

“What sort of friends do you have?”

“An acquaintance, I said. And not so much anymore.”

She nodded, looking distracted. And perhaps hopeful? Even intrigued? Roger examined every line of her face, searching for clues.

“I’d have to find a way to sneak out. Which will be next to impossible now that I’ve done it once.” She looked rueful. “They expect me to leave with them in a day or so.”

“We could go right now,” Roger heard himself say.

Fenella blinked. “Right now?” she repeated, as if the words were in a foreign language.

“It’s just a few miles to the bridge.”

“But I…I haven’t anything with me.”

“Buy what you need. And then you can send for your things. When you inform your brothers-in-law that you’re married.”

“Inform them,” she murmured.

“And that they needn’t trouble themselves about your money any longer,” Roger added. “We’ll send off a note as soon as the knot’s tied.”

“Needn’t trouble themselves,” Fenella repeated. She said it again, silently. Clearly, she liked this idea.

“Or anything else concerning your affairs,” Roger added. “Which have nothing to do with them any longer.”

Fenella smiled. She smiled at the horizon, and then she smiled at him. “I’d like to tell themthat,” she admitted.

“They deserve it,” he replied, making common cause.

She gazed at him. Roger struggled not to say the wrong thing and ruin all. If only there was a way to tell what people were really thinking.

“I suppose I’ve gone mad,” she said. “But…very well. I’ll elope with you.” She laughed.

Elation flared through him. He felt like shouting for joy. But not wanting to do anything that changed her mind, he simply nodded.

They turned their horses to the northwest.

Thirteen

Some hours later, two irate gentlemen arrived at the gates of Chatton Castle. They were uninvited, though not altogether unexpected. Roger’s mother received them. Arthur stood at her side, in his most impressive Lord Macklin guise.

The large fleshy one waved a piece of crumpled paper in their faces. “Are you aware of this outrage?” he demanded.

They’d had their own note with the startling news of Roger’s runaway marriage and were prepared. But Arthur saw no reason to make it easy for these rudesbys. “Outrage?” he repeated, as if the word was a social gaffe.

The thin, sour fellow, whose face reminded Arthur of someone, glared at Lady Chatton. “Your son has behaved like an utter blackguard. Lost to all propriety, he has lured our sister-in-law into conduct unbecoming a lady.”

“That really doesn’t sound like Roger,” said Arthur.

The larger man reddened. “They have eloped, sir! I rode up to Coldstream myself and confirmed the story. The idiots there had no idea where he’s taken her off to.”

“Somewhere comfortable, I’m sure.” Arthur said it partly to goad the man and saw that he’d succeeded admirably.

Their uninvited visitor swelled and reddened further. “You are impertinent, whoever you may be. I don’t see how this concerns you.”

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