Sophy had no time to dwell on the niggling worry in her mind of what would happen when Lord Rothley caught up with Lord Pinkney. She rushed up to her bedchamber, rang for her maid to assemble clean linens, a nightgown and requisites, and exchanged her spencer for a serviceable pelisse. She then went to Susan’s room. Her hairbrush and comb were missing from the dressing table, so Sophy knew that she must have those stuffed in her reticule, but she took a nightgown, some stockings, a shawl and then two gowns from the linen press, and put them in the same valise that Susan had herself packed less than ten days earlier.
With her bags ready, she saw them taken down into the vestibule, and went to Harriet, who was in tears upon her bed.
‘Harry, there is no call for you to weep.’
‘But what will the Duchess say, when we are all disgraced?’
‘You goose. She will not forbid the banns, you know. She has met you, she knows what sort of girl you are, and, in the end, you are a Hadlow, not a Tyneham, and as such, in the fullness of time, Susan’s behaviour will be no more than a memory. Think of me, marrying into a family where my father-in-law is an elderly reprobate living in Europe.’
Harriet looked up at that, blinking away her tears.
‘Has Lord Rothley proposed? Oh Sophy, I am so pleased for you.’
‘Well, he has Papa’s approval, and was going to speak to me this afternoon, but has instead gone haring after Susan, which brings me to the next thing. You must dry your eyes and be calm and speak to Cook and Bembridge, which will be good experience for you running your own establishment, because Sir Esmond is driving me in pursuit of …’ she smiled, lopsidedly, ‘everybody. I have things for myself and for Susan. I think that if it will be too far to return tonight, Sir Esmond is suggesting we stay at his house in Huntingdonshire. So I do not expect to be home for a day or so, and with luck, when I do, Susan will no longer be “a problem” because she will be married.’
‘Married?’
‘Yes, to Sir Esmond.’
‘Oh, poor man,’ exclaimed Harriet, involuntarily, and then covered her mouth with her hand.
‘Possibly. Now kiss me, dry your eyes, and wish me luck.’
Harriet did as she was told, and was able to wait with her sister and father as they listened for Sir Esmond’s arrival. Sophy hoped that Sir Esmond had been successful in finding Lord Tyneham. Had he done so she had little doubt that the viscount would follow his instructions. Sir Esmond was not a man who would brook refusal, as she thought Susan would swiftly discover.
Sir Esmond was a man on a mission, and even the irritating information from Tyneham’s valet that he was gone to Bond Street to have his pocket watch regulated, did not give him pause. At Allam and Clements he drew a blank, but considered it more likely Tyneham, being rich and inclined to show it, would be further up the street at Perigal’s, who had the Royal Warrant. He caught him about to step into the premises.
‘Tyneham.’
Lord Tyneham turned, frowning. It was not a casual appellation.
‘Yes? Oh, it is you, Fawley.’
‘You are to come with me.’ It was a command, not in any way a request.
‘What on earth for? I am busy.’
‘Your tardy timepiece can wait. We are going to Doctors’ Commons.’
‘We are?’ Tyneham was so surprised he did not even bridle as Sir Esmond took his arm in a firm hold and hailed a cab. Only when within did the viscount query this near abduction. ‘Doctors’ Commons. Why there?’
‘A special licence, what else? I need to marry your sister.’
There was a moment of silence as Lord Tyneham absorbed this information, then his cheeks went pink.
‘You need to marry my sister, sir? Why, you black-hearted—’
‘Don’t be a bigger idiot than you look, Tyneham. I do not mean forthatreason. She has run off with Pinkney, the foolish chit, and I am going to save her from herself, and from him too, if Rothley has not done so already.’
‘Rothley? What has …’ Tyneham was even more confused but latched onto the fact that Susan had run off, again. ‘The baggage has eloped with Pinkney. Well, I wash my hands of her, and if he thinks he will get a penny from—’
‘He won’t be marrying her. I will.’
‘You must be mad.’ Tyneham was perfectly serious.
‘Quite probably. Now, my intention is to take Miss Tyneham to my own home, and we will be married from there. Lady Sophy will be there as chaperone.’
‘Much good she has done thus far!’ snorted Tyneham.
