The Duke And His Four Wards

Chapter 11.2 (Part 1)

   Francis Cambridge paused, his hand on the handle of his bedroom door. It was past seven in the morning. He had sat up all night since returning from the ball, with his brother's brandy decanter to keep him company, going over his relationship with Emma Fleming. And still he could find only one solution. He shook his head and opened the door. The sounds of a commotion in the hall drifted up the stairwell. He heard his brother's voice, uplifted in a series of orders to Rickshaw, and then to Gibson. The tone of his voice was one he had rarely heard from Felix. It brought him instantly alert. Sleep forgotten, he strode back to the stairs.

   In the library, Felix was pacing back and forth before the hearth, a savage look on his face. Daniel Hammington stood silently by the window, his face showing the effects of the past weeks, overlaid by the stress of the moment. Felix paused to glance at the clock on the mantelshelf. "Seven-thirty," he muttered. "If my people haven't traced Finley's carriage by eight-thirty, I'll have to send around to Twyford House." He stopped as a thought struck him. Why hadn't they went for him anyway? It could only mean that, somehow or other, Maribella had managed to conceal her disappearance. He resumed his pacing. The idea of his aunt in hysterics, not to mentioned Marian Winford, was a sobering thought. His own scandalous career would be nothing when compared to the repercussions from this little episode. He would wring Maribella's neck when he caught her.

   The door opened. Felix looked up to see Francis enter. "What's up?" asked Francis.

   "Maribella!" said his brother, venom in his voice. "The stupid chit's done a bunk with Finley."

   "Eloped?" said Francis, his disbelief patent.

   Felix stopped pacing. "Well, I presume he means to marry her. Considering how they all insist on the proposal first, I can't believe she'd change her spots quite dramatically. But if I have anything to say about it, she won't be marrying Finley. I've a good mind to shove her into a convent until she comes to her senses!"

   Daniel started, then smiled wryly. "I'm told there's a particularly good one near their old home."

   Felix turned to stare at him as if he had gone mad.

   "But think of the waste," said Francis, grinning.

   "Precisely my thoughts," nodded Daniel, sinking into an armchair. "Felix, unless you plan to ruin your carpet, for God's sake sit down."

   With something very like a growl, Felix three himself into the other armchair. Francis drew up a straight-backed chair from the side of the room and sat astride it, his arms folded over its back. "So what now?" He asked. "I've never been party to an elopement before."

   His brother's intense blue gaze, filled with silent warning, only made him grin more broadly. "Well, how the hell should I know?" Felix eventually exploded.

   Both brothers turned to Daniel. He shook his head, his voice unsteady as he replied. "Don't look at me. Not in my line. Come to think of it, none of us has had much experience in trying to get women to marry us."

   "Too true," murmured Francis. A shirt silence fell, filled with uncomfortable thoughts. Francis broke it. "So, what's your next move?"

   "Gibson's sent runners out to all the posting houses. I can't do a thing until I know which road they've taken."

   At that moment, the door silently opened and shut again, revealing the efficient Gibson, a small and self-effacing man, Felix's most trusted servitor. "I thought you'd wish to know, Your Grace. There's been no sightings of such a vehicle on any of the roads leading north, north-east or south. The man covering the Dover road has yet to report back, as has the man investigating the road to the south-west."

   Felix nodded. "Thank you, Gibson. Keep me informed as the reports come in."

   Gibson bowed and left as silently as he had entered.

   The frown on Felix's face deepened. "Where would they go? Gretna Green? Dover? I know Finley's got estates somewhere, but I never asked where." After a moment, he glanced at Francis. "Did Emma ever mention it?"

   Francis shook his head. Then, he frowned. "Not but what I found her talking to Finley as soon as ever they got to the ball this evening. I asked her what it was about but she denied there was anything in it." His face had become grim. "She must have known."

   "I think Sophia knew too," said Daniel, his voice unemotional. "I saw her go out with Finley, then found her alone in a gazebo not far from the carriage gate."

   "Hell and the devil!" said Felix. "They can't all simultaneously have got a screw loose. What I can't understand is what's so attractive about Finley?"

   A knock on the door answered this imponderable question. At Felix's command, Rickshaw entered. "Lord Byron desires a word with you, Your Grace."

   For a moment, Felix's face was blank. Then, he sighed. "Show him in, Rickshaw. He's going to have to know sooner or later."