Page 37 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)

R obert found Embleton pacing about the inn yard, shouting at the ostlers.

“What is the problem?” Robert said.

“They are reluctant to lend me a riding horse without a postilion to lead the way.”

“Perhaps we should take a carriage instead? I should be glad to come with you.”

“That would take even longer,” Embleton said tersely.

“I do not see the need for such haste,” Robert said equably. “Either Lady Euphemia is at Harraby Hall or she is not, and ten minutes sooner is neither here nor there.”

Embleton stilled, hands on hips. “You are right,” he said slowly. “I am b-being irrational, I s-suppose.”

“You are being a brother who is concerned about his sister,” Robert said. “Perfectly natural. You there! Forget the riding horse, and put a pair to Lord Embleton’s carriage.”

That was an order the ostlers were well trained to comply with, and within a very short time they were on the road.

Robert could not honestly say he was thrilled by this, for he would far sooner be sitting in the parlour with Olivia, a glass of wine in his hand and her sweet face before him, but if it spared her a little worry, he would do it gladly.

Although her concern for Lord Embleton brought him a worry of his own.

Would she have been just as concerned if it had been anyone else potentially tearing off to call a man out?

If it had been Robert, for instance? Was her fear merely for an acquaintance?

Or was there that deeper fear, driven by affection…

by love? That was too dispiriting a thought for words.

Embleton sat stony-faced and silent in the carriage, his anger still close to the surface, but Robert was more optimistic than he had been since they had left Leicestershire.

A visit to a sister about to be confined was so very far from the elopement they had all feared that his spirits were quite lifted.

“I wonder if this is what Lady Euphemia intended all along,” he ventured. “She never said it was an elopement, after all.”

“If she had wanted to visit her sister, she had only to ask,” Embleton said tersely, his anger still keeping his stutter at bay.

“Lady Olivia thinks that she likes to play games… to tease. She might have thought it a good joke.”

“She still ran away in the middle of the night with Grayling,” Embleton said. “She needs whipping! As for him, what was he thinking? He cannot imagine I would ignore this.”

“Still, if she is safe at Harraby Hall, then—”

“ If she is safe, then perhaps I shall only box her ears.”

“And she has had Miss Grayling with her as chaperon, and her own maid and footman.”

“Two girls of eighteen cannot chaperon each other, nor are servants adequate protection for a duke’s daughter,” he said haughtily. “You would not think so if it were one of your own sisters.”

Robert could see that the marquess was determined to maintain his anger, so he gave it up and the rest of the journey was accomplished in silence.

The carriage had no sooner drawn to a halt before the entrance steps to Harraby Hall than several servants ran out, followed by a very agitated Lord Harraby. His face fell when he saw the marquess.

“Embleton! Well! I thought you were —”

“Is Effie here?”

“Yes! Locked up for the sanity of all of us.”

“And Grayling?”

“Gone away, very disgruntled. Will you—?”

But Embleton had already gone inside, taking the steps two at a time and barking orders to the nearest manservant.

“Well!” Harraby said, turning to Robert with a wry smile. “Kiltarlity. Are you here about Effie too?”

“In a way. I am charged with preventing Embleton from calling Grayling out. I take it the lady is unharmed?”

“Unharmed and entirely unrepentant. Thought it all a great lark, if you can believe it. Grayling supposed they were on their way to Scotland, but that chit of a girl only ever intended him to escort her here. It would have served her right if he had forced the issue, but then I suppose Embleton would have been obliged to meet him. I very nearly called him out myself. Happily, he is gone back to wherever he came from, with his sister, poor child. She looked quite bewildered. Ah, this must be the midwife now,” he added, as a carriage travelling rather fast bowled up the drive.

“Then we have arrived at an inopportune moment,” Robert said.

Harraby’s face clouded. “It is, rather. Effie’s unexpected arrival with Grayling threw Jane into a dreadful spin, and that started the baby off.

Only a little early, but still, one does not like surprises in these matters.

Mrs Jopling, I am so pleased to see you. Kiltarlity, you will forgive me if—”

“Of course, of course. Go and see to Lady Harraby. I will find Embleton.”

This proved to be unexpectedly difficult, for the household was in rather a flap, and no one seemed to know where the marquess had gone, or even where Lady Euphemia was being housed.

Eventually, however, the housekeeper was found who showed Robert by a tortuous route to a bedroom on an upper floor, where two footman stood impassive guard, pretending that they could not hear the argument being conducted at an irate bellow within.

Suppressing the desire to laugh at this family dispute, Robert pushed open the door and went inside, causing the two combatants to stop mid-sentence. Across the room, two boxes were open, clothes strewn about, while a maid cowered in a corner.

“Lord Kiltarlity!” Effie turned to him, her red-faced anger melting at once into welcome. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to prevent your brother from calling out Lord Grayling.”

“Calling him out?” She laughed merrily. “What a silly notion! Embleton would not be so stupid… would you?”

“I should have been obliged to, naturally. Matter of honour,” Embleton said tersely.

“Oh, pft! Honour, indeed! You men are so foolish. Grayling has not laid a finger on me, and I have had Sarah Grayling with me the whole time, as well as my own servants.”

“As if that makes a particle of difference!” Embleton said, his voice rising to anger again.

“Fortunately,” Robert said, loudly enough that they both turned to him again, “we were able to provide a plausible explanation for your departure from Leicestershire, Lady Euphemia, so with luck you will escape this episode unscathed. Embleton, if any rumours do surface, a meeting with Lord Grayling would only serve to confirm them. It cannot serve any useful purpose at this stage.”

“It would make me feel better,” Embleton said, but his tone was reduced to its normal level. “Effie, you are the m-most t-troublesome chit. What am I to d-do with you?”

“Let me stay here. Jane will chaperon me.”

“Jane is in the midst of her confinement,” Embleton said more sharply. “We are very much in the way, but if I take you back to Marshfields, you will just run away again, I suppose.”

“Bring her to Strathinver,” Robert said at once. “Nothing for miles around. My mother will chaperon her ferociously, I can guarantee it. She will not run away from there, and if she thinks to try it, we can lock her in the dungeon.”

Effie squeaked in outrage. “Do you truly have a dungeon?”

“Truly I do, complete with manacles. There are probably rats, too, although I have not been in there to check for some time.”

She squeaked again, but Robert smiled benignly at her.

That brought a glimmer of a smile from the marquess. “Strathinver… yes. Why not? Pack, Effie. We leave in one hour.”

“Surely we can wait long enough to hear how Jane goes on… whether it is a son this time.”

“Harraby can write to us. Pack. Now.”

***

W hile relieved that Lord Embleton was not, after all, to meet Lord Grayling in a duel, Olivia was thrown into despair by the Franklyns’ proposal that they should now turn for home.

Thirsk, after all, was only a few miles from Birchall and Corland, and would they not be more comfortable in their own houses at this time of year, rather than lumbering up to Scotland?

Lord Embleton might go with Lord Kiltarlity if he chose, but surely Lord Rennington and dear Olivia would prefer to curtail their travelling until the better weather?

Dear Olivia would certainly not prefer to curtail anything.

If her friends were going to Strathinver, then she would rather like to go there too, for it would be more fun than being cooped up at Corland again.

Not that she could say so. Girls of eighteen were seldom asked their opinion on such matters.

Instead, the discussion at the inn that evening was carried on between Lady Esther and Olivia’s papa, and happily Papa was not minded for home, either.

“You know how it will be, Lady Esther,” he said.

“Jane will whistle up another improbable candidate for me to marry, and I am not at all in the right frame of mind for doing the pretty to anyone just now. I should like to hide away at Strathinver for a while until I feel up to facing the world again.”

“Then I had better come with you, to chaperon Olivia,” she said.

“No need for that,” he said. “I can protect my daughter perfectly well on the road, I hope, and at Strathinver, she will have Lady Kiltarlity’s chaperonage.”

And so, to Olivia’s satisfaction, it was agreed, and the next morning Lord Ramsey and the Franklyns drove off to the east, while those remaining, in Lord Embleton’s carriage and a hired chaise, proceeded northwards.

The journey to Strathinver took four long, tortuous days, through dreary autumn weather, bad roads and horses that plodded along in a dispirited manner. Olivia’s companions were no more lively, for Lord Embleton was stonily silent for much of the time, Effie sullen and Lord Rennington gloomy.