The Thoroughly Compromised Bride by Catherine Reynolds Page B

sheet of paper which was covered with nearly illegible handwriting and spotted liberally with what appeared to be tear stains. Charles gave it only a cursory glance, as his sister said, “You may well stare! I did myself when I saw this note!”
    “What in God’s name can have possessed the tiresome chit to do anything so idiotically bird-witted?” Charles demanded.
    “Oh, there isn’t time for that!” Lady Margaret wailed. “She shall be ruined if she isn’t stopped! Oh, Charles, you must go after her!”
    “Yes, of course,” he replied, scowling, and ran his fingers through his hair once more. “We must assume them to be making for Gretna Green. Have you a map, Elizabeth?”
    “I shall fetch it, Charles,” Elizabeth said, hurrying from the room.
    Noting this intimate use of their given names, Lady Margaret just barely stifled a crow of satisfaction, and admirably preserved her agonized countenance.
    When Elizabeth returned, she and Charles pored over the map.
    “They will be taking the Bristol turnpike. It’s the only decent one if one wishes to travel quickly,” she told him.
    Glancing up at his sister, he asked tersely, “How long have they been gone?”
    “It cannot have been above an hour. You should catch them easily if you hurry.”
    “Yes,” he said, and folding the map, he started for the door.
    “Stay!” shouted Lady Langley, arresting him on the spot.
    “What the devil?” he exclaimed irritably.
    “Oh, Charles, I am persuaded that my poor girl would wish to have a female to lend her support when you catch up with them. But what shall we do? Neither Emily nor I are in any case to go with you. And her abigail would be no better than useless. She is so very shatter-brained!”
    “I shall be happy to go with him, ma’am,” said Elizabeth. “We should overtake them easily in time to be back before nightfall.”
    “Oh, my dear, would you? I cannot thank you enough!”
    “Yes, of course. I should like to help.”
    Elizabeth looked to Charles for his approval of this plan, but he was studying his sister speculatively.
    After a moment a faint smile curled his lips and he said, “Of course. The perfect solution.”
    Turning to Elizabeth, he told her, “I believe we shall travel much faster in my curricle than in a closed carriage. I shall fetch it while you are changing into warmer clothing. It will be a cold drive.”
    Elizabeth ran to do his bidding, and Charles faced his sister once again. “Take heart, dear sister,” he said with a grin. “Somehow I feel sure all will go as you wish!”
    He saluted her once and was gone.
    Elizabeth was waiting in her warmest gown and pelisse, carrying a fur muff to warm her hands, when he returned in a half hour. After handing her up and placing a lap-robe over her knees, he climbed up beside her and, flicking the reins, started off.
    They were soon racing out of the town.
    Elizabeth, caught up in the dire urgency of their errand, failed to see Lord Braxton standing on the street corner near her home. He was staring after them, a look of profound disapproval on his face.
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    Elizabeth at first forebore saying anything, not wishing to divert Charles’s attention from his driving, since she thought that very likely his concern for his niece would already have distracted him quite enough. No more than two miles had sped by, however, until she realized that Charles, whom she knew to be an excellent whip, was driving to an inch, his expert handling of the reins in no way affected by anxiety—for Melanie or anything else. In fact, one might almost have supposed that he was quite enjoying himself, for an almost imperceptible smile curved his mouth and the tiny creases at the corner of his one visible eye seemed more pronounced.
    At that moment, he turned his head to glance down at her, and she thought she must have been mistaken in that first impression.
    His expression now held nothing but the kindest solicitude as he asked, “Are you