‘I must discuss some matters with the Duke,’ Mr Hoskins interpreted. ‘There is nothing for you to worry about.’
‘I am not worried, not now I know you are well. And I will not marry him, Papa,’ she warned, realising too late that a large male form was right behind her. ‘There is absolutely no need for it,’ she added with a defiant look upwards as Will came to her side.
‘I cannot apologise enough for my wretched siblings and the anxiety they have caused, my lord,’ Will said. ‘They will be severely chastised. Naturally you will want to discuss this in private once you have assured yourself that Miss Wingate is quite well. Shall we go inside? My housekeeper can escort Miss Wingate to a chamber to refresh herself and rest and I will await your convenience in my study just as soon as I have tidied myself and said farewell to my other guests.’
Verity did not miss the compression of his lips as Will glanced towards the clerical group making their stately way up the lawn.
‘I doubt they will be leaving yet,’ Mr Hoskins said tartly, for once speaking on his own behalf. Her father, after a sigh, had merely looked resigned. ‘They are ensconced in comfort in your best bedchambers, from what I can gather, and seem determined to interf—’
Her father cleared his throat.
‘Assist,’ the Chaplain finished.
‘I see. Miss Wingate, here is Mrs Blagden, who will make you comfortable. Bishop, Peplow will show you and Mr Hoskins to my study.’
Verity heard no more before the tall woman in grey, whom she recalled from her arrival the previous morning, swept her towards the house.
Make me comfortable? That would be a fine trick if she can achieve it. Will looks set to martyr us both in the name of respectability, Papa is distressed, however well he hides it, the Bishop and his little flock of sycophants seem determined to interfere and even dear Mr Hoskins is reduced to snapping.
‘I sent the staff to heat the water for your bath as soon as we heard you had been found, Miss Wingate. And Miss Preston, the children’s governess, appears to be similar to you in figure, so she has lent a gown and linen, which we hope will be acceptable as a temporary measure. What refreshments would you care for? Breakfast, perhaps?’
Verity pulled herself together. After a bath, clean clothes and a cup of chocolate she would be ready to face the world and she did not want to look like a ruined woman in need of rescue. ‘Thank you, Mrs Blagden. That sounds delightful. A cup of chocolate and some bread and butter would be most welcome.’
And then I can do battle for my future.
* * *
The razor edge slid over the pulse of Will’s jugular, up over the angle of his chin. Notley lifted the blade away, handed Will a hot towel, then leaned in to inspect the result. The ‘tsk’ he produced seemed to signify approval of the shave and decided disapproval of everything else his employer had presented him with.
‘The hat, Your Grace, has responded to steaming and a soft brush. The coat, I regret to say, is beyond saving. I understand that the correct term for what it was immersed in is bilge water.’
Will stood up and reached for one of the neckcloths laid out for him. ‘You mean that my brother actually brought them to you for attention?’
‘They were found here in your dressing room last night, Your Grace, laid out neatly on the chest. It added considerably to the confusion of the situation, if I may say so.’
‘You may, Notley.’ Presumably it also made it look as though they had been kidnapped. ‘You may also establish the cost of the ruined coat for me so that it can be deducted from Lord Basil’s allowance.’ He frowned at his neckcloth, decided that an Oriental was a suitably subdued style for dealing with outraged bishops, and stuck in an onyx pin. A chaste choice—if that was not an unfortunate pun.
Notley eased the coat over his shoulders, handed him a handkerchief and nodded his approval. Apparently the ducal appearance passed muster.
Now what would his grandfather have done in this situation? Will paused at the turn of the stair. Wrong question. Firstly, his grandfather would never have got himself into such a fix and, secondly, this was Will’s problem to solve. His dilemma.
The right thing, according to every tenet of correct behaviour, was to insist on marrying Miss Wingate. But she did not want to marry him and, given how eligible he was, that argued a real aversion, not simply an attack of pique. And he could not blame her. He had made no secret of his disapproval, of his dislike of her behaviour, and, by extension, his antipathy to her. He might desire her, but that was not the basis for a successful marriage.
As for himself, he owed it to his position to make a suitable and successful match. He owed it to a young lady who had been compromised, thanks to the disgraceful behaviour of his siblings, to respect her wishes. He examined his conscience. Yes, that was definitely the right decision.
‘The Bishop and his Chaplain are in your study, Your Grace. I have sent in refreshments.’
‘Thank you, Peplow. See that we are not disturbed.’
‘My lord.’ Will closed the door and took the seat behind the desk with a nod to Mr Hoskins. ‘I have not yet spoken to my brothers and sisters, but I understand
they concocted this outrageous incident because they have taken a liking to Miss Wingate and believed that she would make a sister-in-law who would indulge their wayward behaviour. They will, of course, present their full apologies to Miss Wingate and yourself before being suitably punished.’
The Bishop’s hands moved. ‘They are young,’ the Chaplain translated. ‘They did not mean harm.’
‘Basil is old enough to know better. Lads younger than himself are serving as midshipmen or supporting their families with honest labour. That aside, I hope I do not need to assure you, sir, that Miss Wingate is unharmed in every way. In every way whatsoever.’
Mr Hoskins was blushing as he said, ‘My lord fully accepts that assurance, Your Grace. No other possibility occurred to him.’