The butler met his eye pointedly. “A particularhorse, your Grace. The one that you said nobody was to ride. The… the horse that belonged to the late duke. The one that killed him.”
William swallowed hard, fear drying up his throat. He glanced down at the driveway, which he could see clearly from the window.
Ten minutes. They’ve been gone for ten minutes. If I don’t leave soon, I won’t catch them.
He squeezed his eyes closed.
“Saddle him up.”
The butler actually staggered backwards. “Your Grace?”
“You heard me. Saddle up that horse. Make haste, there’s no time to lose.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
There was absolute silence inside the Brookfords’ carriage. Nobody looked at anybody else.
Lavinia was sitting beside her father. At the beginning of the journey, he’d thrown a few sympathetic looks her way. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to look back.
He knew, of course. They all did. Gillian had stridden right over to their parents’ room, gone into the small, attached parlour area, and explained the whole situation.
The reaction from Lady Brennon was exactly what Lavinia had expected.
“Don’t be a simpleton, Gillian! Of course we cannot leave! I am sorry that Lavinia has been so disappointed over the duke, but after all, a duke was quite far from her reach, I think. What aboutLord Langley?”
Lavinia, who had followed out of instinct rather than any real desire to hear what was being discussed, saw the way Gillian’s face paled at the mention of Lord Langley. There was a flicker of anguish on her face, quickly smoothed away.
“If Lord Langley likes me as much as I think he does, he will write to me,” Gillian had responded, as calm as she could.
Lavinia bit her lip. That was not necessarily true. Of course, Lord Langleymayprove to be the sort of man who, once his heart had been touched by love, he would not quickly forget.
In Lavinia’s opinion, however, gentlemen were more fickle than that. Men tended to forget rather quickly, once the lady of their affections was out from under their eye. Lord Langley might prove to be such a man, and then what of Gillian’s heart?
An argument naturally broke out, between Gillian and Lady Brennon. It wasn’t like Gillian to have such strong opinions about anything, and certainly not to stand up to her mother in such a fearsome way.
Lavinia lingered by the doorway and said nothing. When she glanced over at Lord Brennon, she found that he was already looking at her, his expression unreadable.
When a gap in the conversation came, he folded his newspaper away with slow, deliberate movements, and rose to his feet.
Lady Brennon turned pleadingly to her husband.
“Tell them, won’t you? Tell them that we cannot throw away Gillian’s prospects over an insult levelled at Lavinia.”
He glanced between his daughters. “Gillian wants to leave, too.”
“I do not care. We are going nowhere! Lavinia may ignore the duke if she likes, but I for one will not stand by and do nothing while…”
“We are leaving.”
Lord Brennon uttered the three words slowly and carefully. Deliberately, almost. There was a brief silence after he spoke. Lady Brennon paled.
“What did you say?” she whispered.
“We are leaving,” he repeated evenly. “Gillian wishes to go. Lavinia wishes to go, and I will not stay in a house where my daughter has been so insulted. If Hugh were here, he would say exactly the same. As for you, my dear, I will not drag you into the carriage. You may stay or go as you please. Girls, I suggest you begin packing.”
It felt like a lifetime ago now. The packing had passed in a haze, with Lavinia crunching and crushing dresses almost beyond repair, shoving them deep down in the trunks. Lady Brennon had come with them, of course, tight-lipped and visibly furious.
Green, leafy landscape rattled by them. Soon they would be out on the streets of Bath, weaving through the traffic, back out into the countryside.
