And then, a long scream as the duchess fell down the well.
The earl had nearly jumped from his chair at this turn of events. “The irony!” he cried. “She ends up in the well after all, and from her own doing!”
Miss Mayton nodded. “Had she been kinder, I expect that never would have happened. For one thing, the duke would have looked a bit harder for her in the first place.”
“Conbatten,” Juliet said, “if our Rosalind is ever suspected of going down a well, you will find her, will you not?”
“I will search every well in England until she is recovered.”
Everyone was most satisfied with that idea, not the least of which was Rosalind herself.
After that delightful interlude, Rosalind rose and said, “Conbatten, remember that book I was telling you about in my father’s library?”
The duke nodded and rose. “Yes, it sounded very interesting. Will you show it to me?”
“Of course,” Rosalind said graciously.
And so they left the party in the drawing room and Rosalind knew that they’d all quite given up trying to stop them slipping away together.
They would spend the next hours in each other’s arms and Tattleton would frown at all the hairpins left on the floor.
There was nothing for it. They’d really better get married soon.
*
Balthazar examined theyoung boy sleeping in the seat across from him in the carriage. He had rather fine features when he was not looking panicked over something. The dog that lay at his feet did not have fine features, but at least its teeth had stopped chattering.
They were on their way to Kent, after Balthazar had spent a rather fine evening with Rosalind and her assorted family members.
What a delightful collection of eccentrics they were. Unlike most eccentrics, who seemed to take pride in their oddities, the Benningtons remained entirely unaware of their peculiarities. It was charming, in its fashion.
How earnest Miss Mayton had been in paying her respects to the tragic Count Tulerstein. And then, he did not know where that lady bought her books but it had tickled him no end how enthusiastic the earl had been to understand the mean-spirited duchess had thrownherselfdown a well.
Lady Cordelia was even now sketching out some monstrosity of a portrait as a wedding gift. He could not be certain how bad she was at the activity, but as in her own words her first effort had culminated in smears of black and brown that could not be rescued, he had high hopes it would be entirely ludicrous.
If there had been any little eccentricity that had given him the least pause, it might have been Lady Juliet’s determination to read a poem at the wedding breakfast. IfOde to Haywas any yardstick to measure with, the queen, and everybody else, was set to be assaulted by the worst poetry in England.
Nevertheless, he would marry into this family and he would be entertained by them. He did not see that Van Doren’s outrage always simmering on a low boil did anybody any good. Least of all, Van Doren.
Out the window, he saw the seven oaks landmark.
Balthazar tapped the young baron’s shoulder and woke him. “We’re nearly there.”
“Oh no,” the boy whispered.
“It will be all right. They’ve seen the proof. They are, quite naturally, devastated that your parents did not survive what was, in the end, your grandparents’ own obstinance. They will be grateful beyond measure that youhavesurvived and are returned to them.”
Lord Dedmont looked very dubious over the idea that anybody would be grateful to see him.
“Now, you must gather up all your father’s courage, and all your mother’s courage. They were very bold people, to have run off like they did and try to make a life on their own.”
“Yes, I suppose they were,” the boy said. “I’d never have tried it. It’s terrible to be on your own.”
Balthazar nodded, just as the carriage pulled up to the doors of the house. A crowd of people led by a very old woman in widow’s weeds came pushing past the butler and footmen.
“You will not be on your own for long,” he said.
The carriage door flew open and the old lady peered in. “Ah yes, it is you, Henry. The spitting image of your father. Welcome home, my boy.”
