Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

“Aye, he is that.” The lad ambled over. He was a sweet-faced boy of about fifteen, and Eliza could see he loved the animals he looked after. “You own a champion horse, miss. You’re very lucky.”

Eliza didn’t feel very lucky. She felt very alone. But then, she reminded herself that she had Devil. And she owned a house, though she wasn’t sure how she’d maintain it and herself with no annuity. And she had an address burning itself into the skin beneath her bodice where she’d tucked it after Billingsly had written it out on a piece of notepaper for her.

Eliza closed her eyes as she crouched down to stroke Devil’s muzzle. “I’m sure Mr Bramley’s very pleased with his performance too,” she muttered. Oh, but she couldn’t bear that man. She’d have to return to the house soon, and find him so she could tell him to inform the vicar his services would no longer be required.

“You’d think so, miss, but he were shouting at Whittlesea the rider, rather than congratulatin’ him.” Caleb picked up a rake and got back to work.

“Why would he do that?” Then, when the boy hesitated, she added, wheedlingly, “I promise not to say anything to Mr Bramley. He’s no friend of mine.”

Caleb blinked at this then said obligingly, “He said Whittlesea must take orders only from him not…” he struggled to remember the word, before saying with evident pride, “…emissaries of his sisters-in-law, and that he was supposed to meet that boy, Jack, halfway through the course.” Caleb dropped his eyes for he’d have been aware it smacked of information of an incriminating nature with regard to the race just run.

Eliza pounced on the only part that was of interest to her. “The boy Jack?” Her senses were on high alert now. “What was his role?”

Caleb shrugged. “Dunno, miss.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Caleb shrugged again. “No idea, miss.”

Well, it didn’t matter. Eliza had the address where he’d be working, and as soon as Ladies Quamby and Fenton could organise it, she’d make her way there. She was all but certain they’d do whatever necessary to facilitate her departure from Quamby House before she fell into the clutches of Mr Bramley. Or rather, before she had to marry him.

“Ah, Eliza, there you are! Don’t you think it’s time you readied yourself?” Mr Bramley strode into the stables. It didn’t escape Eliza’s notice that Caleb scuttled into the far recesses of the building.

Eliza rose. It was time to do what she had to. “Mr Bramley…” She clenched her hands into fists and faced him, squarely. “I’ve changed my mind.”

Even in the shadows, she could see the deep flush that stole over his face. His lips twitched. “Changed your mind?” His tone was low and dangerous.

Eliza took a step backwards. “That’s right, Mr Bramley. I thank you for your very kind offer,

but just as you saw fit to throw me over a few days ago, and to inform me of the fact by letter, I’ve chosen to do the same thing, only face to face.”

Menacingly, he towered over her and gripped her elbow. “You made a wager, Miss Montrose, and marriage to me was the price.”

Eliza tried to see past his bulk for a sign of Caleb, but the boy appeared to have deserted the stables. Mr Bramley had backed her into the corner of Devil’s stall, and now he was pushing his face into hers. “A wager is a wager, Miss Montrose, and the vicar will be here in an hour. I really don’t see what alternatives you have.”

“I have free will,” Eliza muttered. “Mr Bramley, you’re hurting me.” His fingers were digging harder into her arm, and his breath was hot and foetid in her face. She turned her own away.

“You have that much of an aversion to me, my dear?” In that moment, he must have seen the depths of her utter dislike, which triggered something deep and dark within him. Without preamble, he curled one hand about her neck, cupped her chin with the other, and forced her face to meet his kiss—hard, loveless, proprietorial.

Eliza struggled with all her might and, obviously realising the inappropriateness of his behaviour, Mr Bramley released her and stepped backwards.

“My apologies, Miss Montrose; I was overcome by the intensity of my emotions.”

Eliza ran the back of her hand across her mouth as she glared at him.

He stuck his chin in the air. “You are a very desirable woman, and I am looking forward to offering all the rewards we discussed that you will enjoy as my wife, not least the shelter of Quamby House, a very great estate, you will agree.” He drew a wide arc through the air with his arm. “You will enjoy every comfort here; my cousins-in-law are delighted to welcome you and offer their unprejudiced friendship, and you will be saved from having to eke out a meagre existence in a small cottage in the country with, I believe, no annuity to sustain yourself.” He cleared his voice and turned, adding over his shoulder, “Think on all these advantages as you prepare yourself, Miss Montrose. The vicar will be here in precisely one hour, and Ladies Fenton and Quamby are eager to help you prepare.”

He strode away, and Eliza sank down onto a pile of straw, put her hands over her face and wept. Devil seemed to sense her distress, for he ceased his dinner and brought his head round to nuzzle Eliza.

“Darling horse, you’ve worked so hard today, you deserve a good long rest, but…” She stood up with renewed determination, wiping her running nose and eyes with the back of her hand. “I want you to do one more thing for me. Caleb!”

The lad answered her summons almost immediately, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. He obviously had witnessed the scene between Eliza and Mr Bramley. “Caleb, will you please saddle Devil.”

He looked stricken. “If I put on a sidesaddle, ma’am, Mr Bramley will know I had a hand in wot he’ll be most put out about, since it’s too heavy for you to put on alone. Please, miss, don’t ask me to do that.”

Eliza’s chest rose with suppressed outrage. She put her hand to her bosom and felt the paper with Jack’s address. North, somewhere. A small village she’d never heard of. But that’s where she was headed.

Now.