Page 85 of The Redemption of the Shrew

Gloriana dug in her reticule for a handkerchief and handed it to Mrs. Apsley. “Here comes my maid with the tea, and although she is very discreet, the nurseryman may hear. The best we can hope for is to hush it all up.” She took the tea from Elspeth and motioned her to keep the nurseryman away.

“How? It will be all over London in no time.” Mrs. Apsley took the cup with shaking hands and sipped. She made a face. “This is dreadful stuff.”

“I expect so, but he’s a nurseryman, not an earl.” Gloriana retrieved the tea from Mrs. Apsley. “Perhaps we can prevent the elopement. I believe your best course is to drive back to Town and inform his lordship. If he hurries, he may be able to catch them before it is too late.”

“Yes! You’re absolutely right, Miss Warren. I shall leave immediately.” She tottered toward the barouche.

“I’ll come with you.” Heroically, Gloriana drank the tea and handed the cup to her maid. “Thank the poor man, Elspeth, order some plants, and have them delivered to the school.” She hastened after Mrs. Apsley, who was already clambering in with the help of the groom. Gloriana climbed in after her, and they were off.

“It’s most kind of you to come,” Mrs. Apsley said. “I am quite, quite overset.”

“There, there.” Gloriana patted her hand. “I daresay his lordship will succeed in catching them. He has access to the best of coaches and horses.” She paused. “And if he doesn’t, he will have to countenance the marriage.”

“He will never do so, Miss Warren,” the elderly lady whispered. “He was adamantly against it.”

“True, but he is just as adamant about avoiding scandal.”

“Yes, which is why I’m astonished at . . . Oh, dear me.” She flushed. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned . . .”

“That he is flirting so scandalously with me, when everyone knows he won’t marry me?”

“It isn’t at all like him,” Mrs. Apsley said. “Usually, he is discreet about satisfying his animal urges. Meanwhile, the gossips are saying you will try to entrap him into marriage by becoming his mistress.”

“What nonsense! Just because I was a little indiscreet about dancing with him too often!”

“I am relieved to hear that,” Mrs. Apsley said. “I know you and your family don’t care much about gossip, being steeped in scandal already, but the Delphins never deviate from strict propriety. I can only conclude that my nephew has gone slightly mad with, er . . .” She paused, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Dear me, I am not myself just now, or I would not speak of such matters before an unmarried lady.”

“I’m not a child,” Gloriana said. “I understand the concept of unbridled lust, although the reality sounds quite dreadful. I must confess that I don’t understand why, when there are plenty of courtesans about who would welcome his custom, he must direct his base desires at me instead.” She could almost see the ears of the coachman and footman twitching at this conversation. She had to bite back a grin. They would enjoy recounting it in the servants’ quarters tonight.

All too soon they arrived at Hythwick House. Mrs. Apsley had calmed somewhat during the ride, but now her face crumpled, and she wailed, “What shall I do? He will be so angry with me!”

“Hush, ma’am. Surely he won’t blame it on you.” Yes, it would be just like Hythwick to take out his rage on a helpless old lady. Poor Mrs. Apsley was shaking all over and had to be lifted down by the footman. Philippe would be furious, but she couldn’t let her face that tyrant alone. She took Mrs. Apsley’s arm and helped her into the house.

“Is Lord Hythwick at home?” she demanded of the butler. “This is an emergency.”

“No, miss,” the butler said. “I believe he’s at his club.”

Gloriana let out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t realized, until now, that she was rather afraid of Hythwick herself. “He must be sent for immediately. Please ring for Mrs. Apsley’s maid, and also get me pen, ink, and paper. I shall write a note to his lordship.”

“Very good, miss,” the butler said, while Gloriana helped the elderly lady to a chair in the vestibule.

In a few minutes her maid arrived, clucking and fussing, and with her Mr. Turner.

“Lady Marianne has eloped with Mr. Barnham, and Mrs. Apsley is greatly overset,” Gloriana said. “Put her to bed and give her a composer—perhaps even something to make her sleep—to keep his lordship from taking out his temper on her.”

“Aye, miss, I’ll do that,” the maid said grimly and helped her mistress up the stairs.

Mr. Turner motioned Gloriana into an anteroom. “I beg your pardon, Miss Warren, but you oughtn’t to have come into this house. What if the master had been here?”

“I know, I know, but I couldn’t abandon Mrs. Apsley. She is so afraid.” Gloriana made a mental note to carry her pistol in future.

“Your kind heart does you credit, miss,” the valet said, “but . . .” He lowered his voice. “My master sometimes speaks his thoughts in my presence.” He hesitated, clearly not wishing to clarify, and settled on, “His most vile and disgusting ones.”

She shuddered. “I’ll just write a short note and then leave.”

“Good, because I’d have to defend your honor, and I’d rather not hang for assaulting a peer.” Mr. Turner set out the writing materials. “What my Elspeth and your marquis will say about this, I dread to hear.”

“Then don’t tell them,” she said briskly, and sat at an occasional table to write the note.