Rescuing Rosalind (Three Original Ladies and Their Gentlemen) (16 page)

Elise loves me. She is only trying to protect me.

Sadness settled on Fanny.
If I am not careful, I will make trouble for Elise with the duke. She does not deserve that.

* * *

The Duke and Duchess of Beverley were thrilled to receive the Ruisdells and Fanny, even without notice. Fanny knew that Elise gave the duchess some explanation, but had no idea what it was. She went straight up to her allotted bedroom. It was known as the Daffodil Room, with its namesake’s blossoms covering the wallpaper. The furniture was upholstered in shades of yellow, but the cheerfulness only served to make Fanny glum.

It was as though everyone was saying, “Chin up. You are a lucky girl. Count your blessings.”

She hoped that Buck would arrive soon. For some reason, she felt uneasy, almost as though that were too much to hope for.

{ 23 }

W
HEN BUCK RETURNED TO HIS LODGINGS,
he was vastly relieved to find Rosalind’s note. Cornwall! It was a good job that he had not yet set out for Derbyshire. As soon as the duel was played out, he would leave at once. It would not be a good thing for Rosalind and the Ruisdells to know that he had challenged Warmsby.

Buck was rescued from the prison of his own thoughts by Westringham, who called on him at his lodgings and bore him off to White’s for dinner.

As they walked, the lieutenant said, “I have worked out the details of this cursed duel with Warmsby’s second. He’s a weasel, to be sure. A little dab of a man who won’t look you in the eye. One can just see him scurrying about after one’s chickens.”

“You have become imaginative, Clark. I never expected it.”

“Everything about this duel makes me uneasy.”

“Well! Give me the details.”

“It is to be the day after tomorrow. Hounslow Heath. Dawn. Pistols.”

“Good. The sooner, the better.”

Reaching the club, they entered the crowded dining room with its customary atmosphere of cigar smoke, laughter, and the tantalizing smell of sizzling lamb chops. Buck ordered two whiskies and dinner for two.

His lieutenant leaned back in his chair, and Buck felt that he was under observation. “I don’t blame you,” Westringham said.

“That is good to know. For what am I absolved of blame?”

“Falling in love with Miss Edwards.”

Buck squirmed uncomfortably as a waiter placed two fingers of whisky in a tumbler before him.

“I never thought I’d see the day you’d fall for a virtuous woman. And I certainly did not think you’d marry,” his friend continued.

“Neither did I, to be truthful.”

“She’s an extraordinary woman, however, so I guess that explains it.”

“Yes. She is. And I am aware that you had some interest there. Believe me, again, I am sorry for any pain I may have caused you.”

“I have some doubts as to whether I could have kept up with the woman.”

“Yes, Rosalind is what is called a handful. Her sister has whisked her out of town, you know, in the wake of this scandal.”

“Did she really audition at Covent Garden?”

“She did not, and I wish you would do all in your power to put that about. Tell Somerset. Ruisdell tells me he’s the biggest gossip in London.”

“It was at his ball I met Miss Edwards.”

“Yes. He is the duke’s closest friend. He ought to be of some help in scotching this rumor.”

“I’m afraid it has gone too far, Captain. She’s beautiful and well-connected. You just announced your engagement. You are a well-known war hero. It is a situation made for scandal. That’s why I don’t welcome this duel. It will magnify the entire thing a hundredfold if it gets out.”

“I want Warmsby’s head on a platter.” Buck sawed the air, imagining it was Warmsby’s neck.

“Then what will you do?”

“Go after Rosalind and marry her out of hand. Tomorrow I will buy a special license. I don’t care what the
ton
has to say, and it makes me angry to see her quelled by it. She was right the other night at the rout. It
is
a fiefdom. And its gossips
are
afraid of anyone who breaks the rules. They fear chaos. Their world
is
built on the backs of the poor. Anything that smacks of ‘commonness’ lessens that divide. It must be strictly maintained so that the poor stay poor and the rich stay rich. Why do you think those people in trade who aspire to a social position are so frowned on?”

“Because if they are accepted, they will show that the divide can be spanned,” Westringham said in a low voice. “I say, Captain, remember this is a Tory club. Perhaps you ought to join Brookes.”

“Even Whigs are too tame for Rosalind. She wants me to be a Radical.”

“I say!”

After dinner, Westringham tried to interest Buck in attending the theater with him.

“That’s the last place I want to go. I’ll just relax in the reading room and blow a cloud. Have some brandy.”

They said their good-byes, and Buck went to read the newspapers. He found them dull, and his mind strayed to Rosalind once more. He could not wait to hold her again, but worried that Ruisdell would be against the match. He needed dealing with. Rosalind was now Buck’s responsibility. Why had the little ninnyhammer allowed the duke to make off with her?

He decided to walk home, as it was a mild night. Dwelling on Rosalind’s more loveable features, he was in a dream world when he heard the quick footsteps approaching behind him. Jerking himself into the present, he unsheathed his sword from the walking stick that concealed it and spun around, just as his attacker raised his cudgel. Buck rapped the creature on the forearm with the side of his sword, causing him to drop the weapon.

He held the man with the sword point under his chin. “Who sent you?”

The heavily built man was uncommonly quick. Spinning himself free, he took off running. Buck followed, but the brandy he had drunk slowed him, and the man was soon lost to the night. However, he had no doubts that his combatant had been sent by Warmsby to dispatch him before the duel could take place.

{ 24 }

F
ANNY FELT LIKE AN UNWANTED GUEST
at dinner and afterward, when the two ducal pairs laughed and reminisced. She was definitely the odd person out. However, being in low spirits, she did not actually mind not having to speak. She liked Caro and Ned a great deal. They were a more demonstratively loving couple than Elise and Peter, possibly because they lived quietly in Cornwall and cared little for society, where it was considered bad taste to “live in each other’s pocket.” Naturally, that endeared them to Fanny. The knowledge that under the table, Beverley’s hand resided on his wife’s knee almost made her giggle.

Then, unexpectedly, she was invited to join the conversation when the men fell to discussing boxing. Caro turned to her and said, “I understand that you are an actress!” She had all the appearance of being in alt. “I think I must have prayed you here. I am in desperate need.”

“Elise told me you are doing amateur theatricals to raise money for your orphanage. How may I help you?”

“I would love your opinion on my newest play. I have written primarily for children in the past. This one is by way of being a farce. A
School For Scandal
type of thing.”

Fanny perked up. “Oh, that is just the sort of thing I love. I will be happy to read it for you. But I am no critic, you know.”

“Your sister says you know most of Shakespeare by heart. I should think you would make the very best critic.”

“She has played nearly all the parts in our attic at home,” Elise said.

So unused was Fanny to praise that, in spite of the events of the last few days, she opened up like a flower when the sun emerged after rain.

* * *

After breakfast the following day, Fanny took Caro’s manuscript out into the garden, where she sat in the fragrant rose arbor and read it from start to finish. With each act, her appreciation of Caro’s skills grew. She had done so well that which Fanny had always thought would be so hard. The duchess had told a vastly entertaining story using only dialogue and stage directions. A very humorous farce, indeed! The heroine and her three suitors reminded her very much of Elise’s peril-fraught courtship.

At tea, which was served under an orange-striped awning on the patio, Fanny asked, “Did you use my sister as a model for Gabrielle?”

Caro said, “Truth is stranger than fiction, do you not agree? How could I possibly improve on Elise’s romance?”

Elise rolled her eyes. “I see that I must read this play, if only to ensure accuracy.”

Ruisdell said, “I hope you were true to the facts. I should not like to see Elise’s character marry anyone but me.”

Beverley asked, “My dear? You have not made Ruisdell out to be the loser, I hope?”

“It was extremely tempting, and a very near thing,” Caro admitted. “It is quite annoying to know a man who gets everything he wants out of life.”

Fanny said, “Getting everything you want sometimes means getting more than you want.”

Everyone was silent for a moment before Ruisdell said, “I suppose you are referring to yourself, Fanny. I am happy to be your guardian. This business of yours has made the perfect opportunity for our family to leave Town and spend time with Ned and Caro in the country.”

“You are very gracious, to be sure,” Fanny said, hoping no one but the duke noticed her irony.

“I should like you to play the part of Gabrielle, Fanny,” Caro said. “I know you could do it beautifully.”

“I should be honored. And the male parts?”

“Ned is being coerced into Ruisdell’s role. We have a very eager vicar and a perfectly marvelous schoolmaster who shall do the other two parts. Shall you have any trouble memorizing your part?”

“Not in the least. Memorization comes easily to me. I shall begin at once.”

* * *

After tea, Fanny tried to immerse herself in her favorite activity, learning a part and shutting herself away from the rest of the world. But her mind and heart were treacherous.

Why is Buck not here? He should have been behind us by only a day. When will he hold me again? Or is he truly tired of me and all the problems I create?
Closing her eyes, she summoned the memory of being in her captain’s arms, the warm feeling of his hand cupping the back of her head, the sound of his heartbeat through his waistcoat, the bass throb of his voice in his chest as he spoke to her in gentleness.

Where is he? Surely he must arrive tomorrow.

{ 25 }

B
UCK SCARCELY SLEPT THE NIGHT BEFORE HIS DUEL.
He felt like he was merely a hand operating separate from his body. In his mind, the body was the united pair of himself and Rosalind as he clasped her slender frame, feeling the length of her against him. Now that she was out of reach, he was acting independently to punish the man whose indiscretion had taken her away from him.

His promise to Westringham to delope was troubling him. Warmsby was a rotter, and if Buck did not kill him, he had no doubt that Warmsby would devise even worse devilry in the future. The earl obviously had no sense of honor.

Westringham called for him at half four, and they set out on horseback for Hounslow Heath. Freezing fog gave a good impression of a dark winter morning. The hoofbeats broke the eerie quiet of London before daybreak. Buck wore his heaviest greatcoat, but the fog, like Warmsby’s insolent phiz, had a perfidious quality, sneaking down the back of his neck. To the devil with the man!

Neither rider spoke, but Buck noted Westringham’s battle face as they trotted out of Mayfair to the dueling site. He knew Warmsby could not possibly have as stout and loyal a second as he possessed. Buck and his lieutenant had faced every kind of enemy and nuisance but, as Westringham had told him, this was not the deck of his ship, and Warmsby was not a Frenchman.

When the heath came into view, they slowed their mounts to a walk. Buck inhaled the sharp fragrance of dew on the yews surrounding him. Instinct told him that he could not expect decency from his opponent. It would be just like him to stage an ambush. So ready was he for this eventuality that he arrived at the agreed upon spot with some surprise.

The earl was late. Dismounting, Buck threw his reins to his second and began pacing the ground, making certain it was universally flat and not likely to cause a stumble.

He heard the rattle of a carriage harness. Through the fog, a small gig appeared and disgorged a man in black.

“The doctor,” Westringham said. “Good man.”

Once introduced, the doctor said, “Any sign of your opponent?”

Buck shook his head in annoyance. His heart was thundering with anticipation.

At last, the tall figure of Warmsby broke through the fog, followed by the short, almost insignificant figure of his second.

Neither man offered an apology. Warmsby questioned Westringham. “Weapons?”

Buck’s second handed him the case, containing two silver chased dueling pistols. Warmsby weighed them in his hand. Choosing one, he gave the case back. Buck took the remaining weapon.

The duelists took up their positions, back to back in the center of the field. Buck flexed the muscles in his arms and neck.

A white handkerchief fell to the ground. He began to count out his ten paces forward. The back of his head seemed to witness Warmsby doing the same, as his ears strained to hear the soft sound of a man’s boots meeting the grass.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight . . .

Instinct made Buck throw himself to the ground. A ball whizzed over him.

Cursing, Buck got to his feet. The man stood across from him wearing an expression of shock combined with dawning fear.

Buck turned so his side faced Warmsby, raised his arm, and looked down the barrel of his gun as it pointed to his cowardly opponent.

“I’ve shot upwards of two dozen Frenchman right between the eyes, you coward. I have absolutely no problem with doing the same to you. You do not possess a shred of honor. You are no gentleman. If you do not wish to become my next victim, you will leave today for the Continent where you will live out the rest of your miserable life. You will never mention Miss Edward’s name again either here or in whatever unfortunate place you choose to settle. If I hear of your return, I will hunt you, and I will kill you. Is that clear?”