“We should see what happens before we make any decisions,” she said firmly. “When it comes to marrying a Duke, I will not count my chickens before they are hatched.”And,she thought privately,when it comes to this particular Duke, my chickens are unlikely to ever hatch.
Anastasia merely made a noise that could have been classed as acquiesce by anyone who didn’t know her, and they made the rest of the journey in silence. Traveling to Gretna Green took a further two days from Aaron’s estate, and by the time they arrived in the small town, across the Scottish border, Charlotte was both tired and anxious.
The blacksmith’s shop they came to a stop before was unprepossessing, and Charlotte briefly wondered if they had come to the right place. After all, surely the location of so many runaway marriages could not be such a small, whitewashed building.
Aaron looked similarly tired, but he immediately strode inside to make inquiries. Charlotte looked around the small village. The post road was large and relatively well maintained, and it appeared the village had sprung up around this one blacksmith’s shop, established, according to the sign, in 1754.
Aaron emerged from the dim shop, followed by the anvil priest, a similarly unprepossessing man with little hair and calloused hands.
“Tell them,” Aaron said, biting the words off, “who you recall marrying two weeks prior.”
“A Mr. an’ Mrs. Calore,” the man said in a reedy voice. “Lady Constance Brighton, as was.”
“Mr. Calore?” Charlotte blinked, attempting to regain her composure and gather her ragged thoughts. “Surely you cannot be referring to my cousin, Mr. Edward Calore.”
“That’s precisely th’ name, Ma’am,” the anvil priest said with an air of relief.
“I cannot comprehend it,” Charlotte said.
“You must be mistaken,” Anastasia said with the same bewilderment as Charlotte. “Edward is on the Continent, training to be a doctor. Paris, I believe. He cannot be married to your sister, Your Grace.”
“If that is the case, we have a larger problem on our hands,” Aaron said grimly, “than merely an ill-thought-out elopement.”
Charlotte cast her mind back to when she had last seen Edward, almost two years ago. He had been then a rather serious man of two-and-twenty, and not, in her opinion, the sort of man to engage in behavior such as this.
“I cannot believe it,” she said. “Edward would not do such a thing.”
“I believe they’re still stayin’ in th’ area,” the anvil priest said helpfully. “Try the local inn. It’s a honeymoon o’ sorts though there ain’t much tae do roond here, and that’s the truth.”
“Still here?” Octavia frowned. “Surely that can’t be right.”
“Aye, Ma’am, it is. Said they liked the place they married so much they would stay for a while.”
“Foolish indeed,” Aaron said, ire gathering on his face like storm clouds. “Come, we must find them and put a stop to this nonsense at once.”
Charlotte laid a hand on his arm, but he shook her off. “If you did not know of this,” he snapped, “you have been equally foolish.”
“Not to know something of which I could have had no knowledge?” she snapped back. “Yes, foolish indeed, I’m sure.”
He paused as his aunt climbed into the carriage ahead of him and sighed, his shoulders slumping. “My temper got the better of me. If you say you had nothing to do with this, I believe you. Forgive me.”
“There is nothing to be lost in being kind, Aaron,” she said as she returned to her own carriage. “Remember that.”
Her heart ached as they set off for the one solitary inn that graced the small village. If her cousin truly was responsible for this, she hardly knew what would become of her family. First, they were made destitute by a seriously of poorly-thought-out loans and debts they could not repay, and now this.
Her prospects of making a good marriage ever narrowed as more and more things about her family were uncovered, but that wasn’t precisely the thing that made her heart ache.
No, the thing that made her heart ache was the way, just for a moment, Aaron had looked at her with such utter anger and betrayal she hadn’t been able to breathe. And she knew one thing for certain: she could not bear it if he ever had occasion to look at her that way again.
ChapterFifteen
Gretna Green’s inn lay just off the main road, and Aaron immediately disembarked and entered. If Constance lay somewhere inside, he would find her, and he would get to the bottom of this.
A Calore!It was hardly to be countenanced. He should be relieved she hadn’t chosen the sullen Earl of Lowood to be her husband, but an aspiring doctor was hardly a superior choice. She had humiliated him, sent him on a goose chase around the country, and no doubt she intended to return to London with Mr. Calore and be welcomed back into his home with open arms. Well, she was mistaken if she thought her choices came with no consequences.
“My name is Aaron Brighton. I’m the Duke of Hexham, and I’m here for Mr. and Mrs. Calore,” he said to the innkeeper who came to greet the party. “Please don’t insult my intelligence by telling me they are not inside.”
The innkeeper glanced at his wife, who emerged from a narrow doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, and nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Calore are nae at the inn,” he said, wringing his hands before him. “They intend tae return later tonight.”
