“And did you smite him down then, sir, and leave him bleeding on the field?” It was clear that Mrs. D. thought this scenario unlikely. Even the jest of it, though, gave Helena a terrible feeling in her belly. What if Nicholas had been injured by Ethan? It would have been her fault.
Ethan straightened. “I could hardly do the man injury, then ask his permission to wed his sister.”
“Fair enough, but if you’re for Gretna Green, either you didn’t ask his permission or he declined your kind offer,” Mrs. D. replied with confidence. “Which was it?”
Ethan looked so affronted that the older lady chuckled heartily.
“Fear not, my girl,” she said to Helena, giving her a nudge with her elbow. “Your brother will not miss the second time.”
“Madame! You presume too much!” Ethan protested, which only made Mrs. D. chortle with glee. The more she laughed, the more annoyed Ethan became, which only made her laugh harder.
But Helena could not laugh, despite her companion’s confidence that Nicholas would see all set to rights. She had stolen his money, after all. Her heart sank to her chilly toes. Mindful of her aunt’s frequent warnings about cutpurses and thieves, Helena had secreted the banknotes in a small pouch, secured to her undergarments. She clutched it now through her dress, her hand hidden beneath the heavy wool cloak. She also had wound her own stole high around her neck to hide her precious pearls.
Would Nicholas pursue her at all? She certainly did not deserve his gallantry.
She had a terrible feeling that Mrs. D. was right about Melbourne, and that he would be even more careless of her feelings after they were married.
Had Mrs. North been right about hasty weddings in Cumbria, as well?
What if Helena no longer wished to wed Ethan at all?
Was it too late to change her mind and the course of her future?
Chapter 10
A secret.
Nicholas had only two and he did not wish to share either with Eliza. Of the two, the secret less humiliating to confess would be that of the battle that haunted him. He could never admit to his secret affection for her, not when he could not provide what she desired most.
But that night in Badajoz...
How could he speak of it to another?
How could he tell a lady of such bloodshed and violence? It was unthinkable to do as much.
And yet, a part of him desired to share the tale, if only in the hope that so doing might loosen its hold upon him. He imagined that Eliza of all women would understand why that night fed his nightmares. It was tempting to confide in her, though he doubted much good could come of it. She might be appalled. She might think him ungentlemanly, even though his confession would be in response to her demand.
Even by the time they reached The Angel, his thoughts were tangled around the conundrum.
Hawkins awaited them there with the tidings he had gathered. To Nicholas’ relief, there was some suggestion there that a raven-haired girl and a fashionably attired young man had taken the stagecoach north. Reports varied from each other but there was sufficient for Nicholas to be encouraged.
He was glad of Tupper’s presence for that man seemed to anticipate every potential obstacle. They spent mere moments at the coaching inn before carrying on. Hawkins returned to Haynesdale House with Sterling, while they left the city in hot pursuit of the stagecoach.
“Pistols are here, sir,” Tupper informed him grimly, knocking his heel against the box that formed the coachman’s seat. “I must say as I am glad to have a man of your experience on this journey. It can be perilous to ride at night.”
Nicholas nodded agreement. “And I am glad of your foresight, Tupper.”
“There are tales of highwaymen near Alconbury,” the older man confided softly. “I would not say as much before Lady Eliza, but I wish she had not come along.”
Nicholas winced. “I do not think we could have left her behind.” He also did not think he could evade the sharing of his tale, not without losing her friendship entirely.
The stablemaster smiled. “No, I reckon you are right in that, but it was good of you to try to change her view. I could not have dared.”
They exchanged a glance of understanding.
The rain began in earnest then, a cold onslaught that would have soaked Nicholas through if he had not brought his heavy cloak. When Tupper enquired after his comfort, Nicholas recounted a humorous tale of a wretched night of camping in Spain, much elaborated, that made both of them feel fortunate in their circumstance.
They changed horses at Biggleswade, Nicholas asking questions of all and sundry while Tupper made his agreements. It was in the darkest hours of the night, the stillness before the dawn, and there was no sound from within the coach. Topkins remained with the team at Biggleswade, waving them on from the yard.
