Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

o him at a Paris address, when I told him of our wager.”

“You told him?” Eliza gasped.

Mr Bramley smiled. “Indeed, I did. I told him everything, and when he realised how little he truly meant to you, if you were prepared to marry me on the back of a horse, so to speak—though no doubt you thought you had time on your side to win him back—he simply rode off into the sunset. Now,” he inclined his head and indicated the house. “Shall we bring forward the wedding a few hours? The legalities have all been attended to. Of course, the vicar will want a bit of time to enjoy his winnings, though I’m sure he’ll be relieved not to have to stay up until midnight now we all realise how badly secrets are kept around here.”

Stricken, Eliza looked at the faces arrayed about her. Ladies Quamby and Fenton seemed uncertain as to how to respond, which was rather extraordinary. Lord Quamby’s bristling brows were knitted together over his small black eyes, and Lord Fenton looked quite doleful. Only young Katherine danced about, squealing, as she played with the new puppy, Minnie, she’d been given.

“Mama, when can I take Minnie to show Jack?”

Jack. That’s what this had all been about. Eliza’s shoulders slumped. What could she do? She had to cry off. Even if she didn’t have a penny to her name.

“It might be a while before you see Jack,” Lady Fenton said distractedly before turning back to Eliza. “So, congratulations really are in order. You really do intend marrying my cousin.”

“What did Katherine mean?” Eliza ignored her. “About Jack?” Her mouth felt dry, and she wanted to shake an answer out of someone as Lady Quamby interrupted.

“But of course we’re so delighted you’re going to be our cousin-in-law, Miss Montrose,” she said.

“Where has Jack gone?” She didn’t care if she sounded as panic-stricken as she felt.

“Oh, someone employed him in their household up north,” Lady Fenton said dismissively. “Katherine’s terribly upset—”

“And so am I,” said Antoinette, “for he really was marvellous with Young George but, as Quamby said, it was unfair to give him ideas above his station so better to make the break earlier before the children got too attached.”

“Where? Whose household? I…I made a promise to him. A little thing, but I’ll want an address to send it.” She didn’t care that she was gabbling, her words sounding odd and out of place given the nature of the discussion.

“I told Billingsly to take down the details,” said Lady Fenton, waving a hand vaguely, before attending to the bow in her daughter’s hair. “Katherine made me promise we’d send him a token at Christmas.”

Eliza tried to respond accordingly. She suffered Mr Bramley’s hand on her arm as he led her to the house, now that the rain had eased. It wasn’t the right time, in front of everyone, to cry off.

But when was the right time?

“I need time to change and rest,” she said as they entered the house and stood for a moment in the hallway.

“Of course, my dear.” Mr Bramley kissed her knuckles, then released her with a bow before striding away in the direction of the stables.

“Miss Montrose…“ It was Ladies Fenton and Quamby advancing towards her, looking concerned, their husbands hovering in the background.

A loud knock on the front door was immediately attended to by Billingsly. He pulled it open to admit a voluble party of three ladies and one gentleman who surged over the threshold, saying gleefully, “We’ve come to celebrate this auspicious event. To think that Lord Quamby’s own horse has won the coveted East Anglia Cup!”

Eliza remained where she was as she watched the gathering proceed towards the drawing room, drawing in its wake Ladies Quamby and Fenton.

She’d never felt more alone or afraid.

“Billingsly.” She turned to the butler who was just closing the door. Her heart was thundering and she felt light-headed. “I believe you have an address I want.”

Chapter 18

Eliza might be uncertain about her future, but she knew she couldn’t marry Mr Bramley, just as she couldn’t marry Mr Patmore.

She really didn’t have much luck with the men in her life.

Since the household was still celebrating victory in the drawing room, she turned towards the stairs to her bedchamber but upon the first stair, decided that nothing was more calculated to calm her confusion and disordered spirits than to rest her cheek against Devil’s flank and breathe in his wonderful horsey smell. This had been the panacea for her childhood angst, and she’d never needed soothing more than now.

When she was certain Mr Bramley was nowhere in sight, she ventured into the lofty stables.

Caleb, the junior groom, had finished rubbing him down and otherwise tending to him after his stupendous efforts this afternoon, and now Devil was indulging himself with a big bowl of oats.

“He’s a good horse, isn’t he, Caleb?” Eliza said, needing to talk to someone who wasn’t part of the close set at Quamby House. She felt alien in their midst. Penniless. Childless. And soon she’d cause ructions with her refusal to marry Mr Bramley. Lord, but she wasn’t looking forward to that altercation. The longer she could stay here in the safety of the stables, the better.