Lord Astor’s eyebrows rose. “But here she comes now,” he said. “With Perrot, it seems, not Hubbard. And George is nowhere in sight.”
Frances turned to look through the window. Sir John stayed where he was at the other side of the room, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Frances,” Lord Astor said, “perhaps you would care to join your sister and Sir Theodore Perrot outside. The weather is far too glorious to be wasted indoors, is it not?”
“Yes, my lord,” Frances said. She wasted no time in obeying his direction.
Lord Astor turned to face his silent host. “I will want an explanation of this, Charlton,” he said. “I somehow have the feeling that my wife’s arrival is quite coincidental and quite unexpected by you.”
Sir John raised one eyebrow. “Your sister-in-law is no child, Astor,” he said.
“No, exactly,” Lord Astor agreed. “She is a woman, Charlton, and in my care. I cannot believe that you were unaware of how she would be compromised by a visit here with you alone.”
Sir John shrugged. “So what do you intend to do about it?” he asked. “Challenge me? That would be a trifle old-fashioned and more than a trifle illegal, would it not?”
“But very much in my mind nonetheless,” Lord Astor said.
“It seems I have no choice but to offer for her, then,” his host said carelessly. “I believe we have a certain understanding anyway. To whom must I address myself, Astor? To you, or to her mother?”
Lord Astor’s eyes narrowed. “You have an understanding with Miss Wilson?” he said. “She has agreed to be your wife? I will have to talk with her about this. If you tell the truth, I shall expect a visit from you one morning within the next week. If you do not, you may expect a call from me. Good day, sir.”
Frances was crying. Lord Astor saw that as soon as he strode from the house. Arabella was beside her, patting her on the back, offering a handkerchief. Theodore was hovering close by, clearly reluctant to offer closer comfort in that relatively public setting. The three horses were grazing on the lawn, probably a forbidden activity, Lord Astor decided. Both Arabella and Theodore turned toward him.
“All is well,” he said. “I arrived not long after them. Frances is quite unharmed. She is frightened, that is all.”
“Where is he?” Theodore asked, stepping toward the house.
“Cooling his heels, I would imagine,” Lord Astor said. “I have had a brief talk with him. The matter will be cleared up back in town.”
“The scoundrel will not escape as lightly as that,” Theodore said. “He is going to be dealt with now.” He strode off in the direction of the house.
“He will be dealt with,” Lord Astor called after him, but his words were drowned in Frances’ shriek.
“No, Theo!” she cried. “He will kill you. Come back. Oh, Bella, bring him back. He will be killed.” She swooned as Theodore disappeared through the door without even stopping to knock first.
“Oh, dear,” Arabella said, kneeling on the cobbles beside the inert form of her sister and flapping her handkerchief over her face, “she has fainted. She has never done that before. Oh, poor Frances.” Lord Astor moved around to the other side of his sister-in-law, slid one arm beneath her shoulders, and brought her up to a sitting position.
“Keep fanning her,” he said. “She will revive in a moment. I could almost find it within myself to say that she deserves this, but that would be unkind. What makes her so foolish, Arabella, when you are so sensible?”
“Well,” she said, flapping the handkerchief vigorously and peering anxiously into her sister’s face, “Frances is the beauty, you see. She has never needed common sense. But sometimes I do wish she had a little more fortitude. How pale she looks!”
“She is beginning to stir,” he said. “I hope Perrot is not carving up the furniture in there.”
“My lord!” Arabella looked up at him suddenly, her fanning movements slowing. “What did you mean when you said that he would be dealt with? You are not going to fight a duel, are you?”
“I don’t think it will come to that,” he said.
Her face showed instant alarm. “Oh, you are!” she cried. “You are going to fight him with pistols and he is going to kill you. I won’t let it happen. Oh, I won’t. He is not worth all the trouble. I will shoot him myself.” Lord Astor grinned unexpectedly.
“Oh,” Frances said faintly. “Is Theo dead?”
“I think not,” Lord Astor said, “unless this is his ghost coming from the house.”
Sir Theodore Perrot strode over to the group and stood looking down at them. “I don’t believe Sir John Charlton will be troubling you any longer, Fran,” he said. “And I doubt if he will be able to give you satisfaction for a week or two to come, Astor.”
“Oh!” Frances shrieked, her head falling back over Lord Astor’s arm. “You have killed him, Theo, and they will hang you.”
“Not quite that either,” he said. “You have not been swooning, have you, Fran? And crying? There seem to be handkerchiefs lying around all over the place. Come on, my girl, up with you. Time to get back to Farraday’s, or we will miss luncheon.”
