Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

" W e are nearly there."

Adelaide stirred to the sensation of someone gently shaking her arm and groaned at the rush of stiffness and aches that arose to greet her as she came to full wakefulness. She had feigned sleep after finishing the impromptu picnic Oakley gave her, but the pretence had rapidly progressed to real and benumbing slumber, so deep she had apparently not moved an inch for the remainder of the journey. Her neck was not thankful for it.

Outside the carriage, the sun was up and the streets of London bustling. "Sorry—I did not mean to sleep for so long."

"Neither did I, but I was dead on my feet! I have only just woken up myself," Oakley replied, stretching. "This adventuring rigmarole is exhausting."

"Thank goodness you did not have to do any of it on foot."

He frowned at her until she grinned; then he comprehended her tease. "Very droll, but I would have followed you even if it meant I had to walk. Which ought to prove just how sincerely I wanted you to come home."

She smiled shyly. "You have already proved it. I cannot imagine my aunt and uncle wish it as dearly, certainly not if they were as angry as you were."

"I did not tell Father you had run away, for I, too, thought he might take the news badly. I hoped I would find you before he discovered it. I left word that I had taken you to Avonwyke for the celebrations. He will not question that."

"And my aunt?"

"She knows."

Oakley's countenance had taken on a distressingly sad turn, prompting Adelaide to ask, guiltily, "Was she very unhappy?"

His face said it all. If it were not that Adelaide's stomach had already twisted in knots at another reminder of Kem's imminent nuptials, this revelation would have done the trick. She sagged disconsolately in her seat. "I have been utterly selfish. I shall do better. I promise."

Oakley took her hand in his. "She was unhappy that you left, but only because she blamed herself. She has grown very fond of you, Adelaide. She was dismayed to have done such a poor job of earning your affection. As was I. We must all do better." With a last squeeze, he let go and sat up straight. "And I have every faith we shall. Besides, do not all families quarrel? This merely shows we are a proper one. All will be well. You will see."

Adelaide treasured his assurances and, for a full ten minutes, was persuaded he was right. Then they arrived at Tipton House and discovered that Oakley's attempt to keep her desertion a secret from the earl had failed miserably, and all was very far from well.

"You do not have to do this, Adelaide."

"Yes, she does!" Lord Tipton shouted before Adelaide could reply to Oakley's strained interjection. "With this reckless act, your sister has done everything I feared she would—proved herself every bit as disloyal and troublesome as her father. I had allowed for her unsavoury past and whimsical manners. I had even reconciled myself to her impertinence. But I will not risk this family's reputation with another estrangement like Robert's. I do not care who she is. This family has been through enough. There is nothing else for it. She will marry! "

"Very well, but to a man of her choosing, surely? Mother? You cannot mean to let this happen. Say something!"

"It is well, Oakley," Adelaide said quietly. "I like Mr Hanson." And, in any case, the man I would choose has not chosen me. "I shall marry him if that is what my uncle wishes."

Mr Hanson, it transpired, had been the first to express an interest in an alliance with his lordship's newly discovered niece—a proposition put forward during his stay at Chiltern Court the previous autumn, apparently. He had also been one of the few men willing to accept a lesser fortune than was more commonly settled on a woman of such consequence. Moreover, he happened to be the lowest ranked and therefore least conspicuous man in the running.

Thus, when Lord Tipton found out that Adelaide had absconded—which, he informed them, happened five minutes after Oakley and Kem set out for Southampton, courtesy of his distraught wife—Mr Hanson had seemed the obvious solution to the problem. A flurry of expresses and little more than twenty-four hours later, the two men had met at Tipton House in London and agreed to all the particulars of the marriage that would tie Adelaide down for good.

"What I wish ?" his lordship replied bitterly. "Young lady, my wishes are so far removed from this outcome as to be entirely immaterial. All that matters is that your reckless escapade remains undiscovered."

"It was not so very reckless, Father," Oakley tried, but he succeeded only in earning himself further reproof.

"Try telling me that when all your prospects are blasted because the world has discovered you are cousin to a renegade upstart. You have enough trouble with the ladies as it is. Do not wish any further impediment upon yourself!"

"Charles, please!" Lady Tipton begged, her voice quivering with distress and one hand working furiously at her pearl necklace. "There is no profit in stooping to meanness."

"You think that is mean? It is nothing to what will be said if, because of the attention this exploit brings us, it is discovered that Adelaide is actually Oakley's sister, and he is not my heir at all! Reflect on that and then tell me you think I am being unfair! "

Frankly, listening to the litany of possible consequences to her flight, Adelaide rather thought he was erring on the side of leniency. By her own estimation, she was the most thoughtless creature ever to have lived. She had never stopped to consider that this would have been the second estrangement they had weathered. The impact of another scandal on Oakley's chances of a good match had never crossed her mind. As for the wishes to which Lord Tipton had eluded, she had no idea what they might be, for she had never taken the trouble to ask.

She had welcomed Kem's avowal of respect for her independence, but even the finest self-sufficiency did not excuse a total disregard for the hopes and dreams of those around her. His praise had been especially generous considering he was one of those people whose private concerns she had blithely overlooked. No wonder he was marrying someone else. She ought to be thankful Mr Hanson was willing to have her.

"I will marry him," she said again. "Mr Hanson has always been kind to me. And he is a good friend of yours, is he not, Oakley?"

"Yes," her brother replied, "and if you had come to me of your own accord with this news, I should have been delighted, but you told me a few weeks ago that it was too soon to be thinking about marriage."

"That was months ago, and you told me then there was good reason for not delaying an alliance. Now…" Now, Adelaide had learnt an exceedingly hard lesson. She would not run from her problems this time. "Things are different. "

Oakley looked as though he wished to continue arguing, but Lord Tipton forestalled him.

"The matter is decided, boy. Cavilling will change nothing."

It was sage advice, which Adelaide resolved to espouse. Thus, it was with as much ebullience as she could muster that she met Mr Hanson to accept his proposal the next day.

"You are even more beautiful than when I last saw you," he began.

It was as good a way to begin as she could imagine. He had brought her flowers, too, which for the time of year was an extravagant gesture. She reminded herself, as he bowed to her, how charming his manners had always seemed, how invigorating his warm and open smile was, and how kind he had always been to her.

"Thank you, sir. I wore this gown especially. I remembered that you liked it."

"My dear, you could dress like a scullery maid and still be the handsomest woman of my acquaintance."

Adelaide supposed it did not matter that she blushed, for it was far likelier he thought her flattered than nervous of detection. He did not seem to notice; he stepped towards her and took up her hand.

"Your uncle assures me all is settled, but it seems the decent thing to ask you directly." With an abrupt flourish, he flicked his coat tails out of the way and dropped onto one knee before her. "Dearest Miss Richmond, will you make me the happiest of men and agree to be my wife?"

Before she could reply, he stood up again and, brushing off his knee, continued, "Of course, after your recent jaunt, you are not likely to refuse, but you must have something to tell the ladies when they ask about it. You can hardly tell them the arrangement was forced after you sneaked off to Southampton in the middle of the night!" He chuckled at the notion.

At least he is not disgusted by it. "I have promised my uncle, and I shall give you the same promise—I will not do it again."

He looked at her quizzically. "It did not occur to me that you would. His lordship said you went against his wishes to wave a cousin off at the port. You cannot wave her off twice."

Adelaide laughed nervously. "No. Of course not. I meant only?—"

"What think you of Chiswick?"

"Chiswick?" she murmured. His constant twists and turns in the conversation were dizzying.

"Yes. I have seen a house I think will suit us."

"Chiswick is a long way from Tipton House."

"If you had seen how angry your uncle was two nights ago, you might not be averse to such a distance!" He chuckled again. "But take heart, we shall show him that we can make a good thing of it, eh?"

"I hope so."

"There is no question! You are handsome, I am witty, your uncle is an earl, and—well, and that is sufficient, really. We shall be the most popular couple in London."

"I should settle for making a few friends. I look forward to meeting yours, for I have not made many of my own, yet."

"Good Lord, we shan't be mixing with that rabble. We shall move in far higher circles from now on. We can look forward to balls in Mayfair, dances at St James's…" He had been wandering about the room as he spoke, gesturing, but he stopped to peer at her. Possibly because she had let out a small groan. "You like balls, do you not? Dancing, jewels, gowns, all that?"

"I have not had much success at balls," she admitted. When he frowned, she hastened to add, "But I like fine clothes."

"As I thought!" he exclaimed, resuming his turn about the room. "I never met a lady who did not like to dress herself up fancily."

"Oh, it is the fabric itself that fascinates me, not the ornamentation."

He laughed. "No, indeed, for what is the point of embellishment if one is never seen! I think I shall take the Epsom house, you know."

Adelaide tried her best not to appear thrown but talking to him felt like being tossed about in a gale. "Epsom? I thought you said the house was in Chiswick?"

"Yes, but there is another in Epsom, quite close to the racecourse. A little flutter on the horses now and again would make life entertaining, do you not think?"

"Oakley does not like me to engage in gentlemen's pursuits."

"No? Well, I daresay he has the right of it. I never heard of a marriage being successful because the man and woman spent more time together than they absolutely needed to." He laughed at his own joke again, but Adelaide could not join him, for she was too busy fighting to suppress a swell of panic .

"We shall have to find something to do together, sir. Else we shall scarcely deserve the epithet ‘husband and wife'."

She regretted her phrasing when he fixed her with a covetous look and assured her that nobody would have cause to doubt their connubial felicity. In principle, Adelaide did not begrudge him the sentiment—it was surely to the good that her future husband anticipated pleasure in their union—it was only that his expression reminded her of the way Kem had looked at her on the moonlit lane in Southampton. It was an unfortunate recollection, for without it, she would not have had cause to consider that, while one gentleman's gaze had left her breathless and aching, the other's had left her entirely unmoved.

More to silence her own misgivings than to give any encouragement to Mr Hanson, she smiled and said, "I am sure you are right. We shall be very happy."