A Baron for Becky

Chapter twelve

Once Overton had agreed, Aldridge was keen to get back to London, but had to wait for his friend to fire the governess and arrange his absence. Overton fetched his old nurse from the cottage he had given her for her old age, put her in charge of the girls, and told them they could have a holiday till he returned.

Finally, they were ready, or Aldridge was. The luggage coach had left at first light, but Overton insisted on waiting till his daughters were awake.

Aldridge stood with the horses, watching Overton say farewell.

"I will bring a new governess with me," Overton said.

Little Emmaline reached for her sister's hand, and Sophriana said, "But not a pinchy-pokey governess, Papa? A nice governess?" Overton dropped to his knees and took both girls into his arms. "A kind, gentle governess," he promised, and the look he shared with Aldridge made it a knight's vow. "And perhaps another playmate, my dears. Would you like that?"

The girls agreed, cautiously, that they would. Prompted, they curtseyed polite farewells to Aldridge, kissed Overton, and waved. They were still standing on the steps, waving, when the two riders paused at the top of the hill and looked back.

They loved their stepfather, and he loved them. If Becky would agree to the marriage; if Overton didn't stuff it up with his starched notions; Aldridge's child would be safe, secure, and loved.

During the ride to London, they honed their strategy. They'd use the separation between the Winstanley and Darling identities, and Aldridge would marshal his army of female relatives and friends to the support of the new Baroness Overton.

Overton pointed out that many people knew, or at least suspected, that Becky Winstanley and Rose Darling were the same woman. "We need her to be seen in two places at once," he said.

"Or two of her in the same place," Aldridge agreed. "Pity Sarah isn't a little older. She is going to look just like her mother in a few years."

"The Astley rider." Overton seemed to think that meant something.

"What has an Astley rider to do with anything?"

But when Overton explained he'd seen a mirror image of Becky at Astley's, Aldridge could see the advantage. If they could find her, Overton's fiancée, Mrs Winstanley, and Aldridge's mistress, Mrs Darling, could meet face-to-face in front of the largest grouping of high society the plotters could find.

By the time they reached London, they had gone over their plans a dozen times. All they needed now was Becky's agreement.

*****

"No." Becky didn't even pause to think. Baron Overton? "Have you run mad, Aldridge? No, I will not marry Lord Overton."

"Hear me out, Becky," Aldridge pleaded. At least he'd had the grace to see her alone, leaving the baron in the parlour to entertain himself.

"What could you possibly say, Aldridge? Overton is a drunkard and a womaniser. He would be a worse husband than you!"

"Not usually, Becky. He has a bit of a blowout when he comes down to London, but I'm probably to blame for that."

"Huh!" she said. "So he is weak-willed, too. Anyway, he despises me. It would never work, Aldridge."

Aldridge, his half-smile more exasperated than amused, rubbed one hand over his head, ruining his valet's careless tousling.

"I swear, I've already had this conversation! The two of you are perfect for one another. Yes, Becky, he judged and condemned you without a hearing, just as you have done him. But he was big enough to admit he might be wrong and agree to at least get to know you."