Page 15 of An Inconvenient Vow

That gave him pause for a moment; she saw him raking back over the words spoken. Suddenly his gaze narrowed. “You named me also,” he said, bringing up his chin. “And compounded the lie!”

“I merely deflected the blow from my blameless sister!”

“By flinging yourself in its path,” he said bitterly.

“That may be so,” she conceded. “But I could only work with the materials before me to try and mitigate the consequences as best I could. You have doomed us to this marriage and you alone!”

He huffed out a breath, placing hands on his hips. “And just what do you think would have happened to you, madam, if I had not married you?” His tone was scornful.

“Well, that can only be conjecture at this point,” she said tossing her head.

“I seem to remember the magistrate spoke of consequences. Dire consequences if my memory serves me well.”

She stuck her nose in the air. “As my father is a man of some note in the district, they would not have had the free rein such men revel in when it comes to the punishment of women.”

“Oh? Spared you a scold’s punishment before, has he?” he asked in a cool, hateful tone.

“Pardon?”

“I hear that is your reputation locally,” he continued with a sneer. “A shrewish nag whose first husband put her from his door.”

Sabina shot out of her seat, breathing hard. “You know nothing about it!” Suddenly, she was the one struggling to draw breath. So, even the god-like De Crecys knew all about her bitter failure of a marriage. Maybe they had all thoroughly discussed it last night at supper when she was sleeping in a storeroom. Or mayhap they had known about it before then when they were picking over Isemay’s family background and finding them all wanting. The failure of a sister who could not keep a husband.

She wheeled about and lurched blindly for the bedchamber door, wrenching it open and practically falling into the corridor outside. She did not think Sir Jeffree called after her, at least, she would not have heard anyway above the buzzing in her ears. She just fled, hurry, hurry, along the corridor. Was that a flight of steps? It was not the wide staircase she had climbed the night before, but the last thing she wanted was to end up in a main part of the house where all the guests would be gathered. This was likely a servant’s stair; it was so narrow and would serve very well for her purpose. She plunged down it, emerging into a narrow corridor which she picked along stealthily, hearing a babble of conversation which seemed to come from the adjoining room which she guessed was either the buttery or a kitchen pantry.

“He never!” said a country accent warmly. “And her his paramour the whole time?”

“Bold as brass she were, Sidney said. ‘Tis I be his whore, not my fair sister, only he won’t own it on account of my plain face. And that proud Sir Jeffree, he didn’t know where to put himself! That’s what Sidney said. His face turned red as fire, they do say.”

“As well it might!” the first voice rejoined wonderingly. “Well, good on ‘er, I says. Least she never let her sister get the blame for her wrongdoings.”

“Get the blame!” her companion derided. “She wanted to get his pledge in front of the magistrate, that’s what she wanted.”

“And who can blame her?” the first said stoutly. “The poor lady. Right prettily she spoke about her supper last night, Badrick said. And that Sir Jeffree, he wouldn’t even try that jelly what Mr. Copling slaved over to prepare for the fine folks. Let the bridal couple have it, that’s what the kitchen decided, and he were downright ungrateful for the gesture!

“Mr. Copling had a tear in his eye when he heard what she said about his jelly. Perfectly sets off the cheese she said, and he heaved a great sigh. Mistress Edland, quoth he, there ain’t a man alive in this mausoleum what appreciates my genius, but this scorned bride, she sees my vision. His Grace only eats like a bird and that Sir Leland’s more for the drink than his victuals. As for that Sir Jeffree, well…”

But Sabina was not destined to hear any more about Jeffree’s exacting tastes. With burning ears, she flung open the first door that opened out into the grounds and stumbled along the path skirting the kitchen garden. She was going home. Not to Morecotte sadly, which was infested with Alfred Hendry’s loathed presence, but to her father’s house. She had fled to Tipton Hall when her first marriage broke down and it seemed she was doing it now a second time.

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up as she scanned the horizon for landmarks. This situation was hardly comparable, for this second marriage was the joke of a cruel god. Spotting the sprawling mass of Langley Woods to the right of her and the first of the standing stones at Rossley Bligh, Sabina got her bearings. As the crow flies, it must be a twelve-mile walk, she fancied. It could be no later than ten o’clock. Squaring her shoulders, she hitched up her skirts to avoid the wet grass and started walking.

6

Jeffree was in a vile mood. Actually, he felt like he had been in one for days. Now he couldn’t find the bloody woman anywhere! She had disappeared. He hadn’t worried when she first stumbled out of the room looking like he had slapped her. After all, where was she going to go? She didn’t know Ganford Chase or anyone in it. Then, after he had sent servants scrambling from the cellars to the attics, had bawled at his uncle’s steward and finally accepted she was not beneath its roof, he set out muttering for the stables and saddled his horse. The grooms assured him no horses were missing and gave him the directions for Tipton Hall and he duly set off. At the start of the journey, he felt belligerent and hard done by. He would never have gone along with Leland’s infamous smear campaign against Isemay Burrell, but he supposed in truth, her sister was not to know that. The wretched woman had then sacrificed him to save her sister’s skin. Herself too, he acknowledged, but that was her own affair. He failed to see why he should have been implicated in her version of events.

Still, he supposed there were small opportunities for young, dispossessed widows. She saw an opportunity to better herself and leaped at the chance to snare herself a rich husband. There was no question she had quick wits. You only had to consider how swiftly she had interceded to divert all blame for her sister. A quick temper too, more’s the pity.

She had flown off that bench earlier and looked like she would happily have flown at him. He felt a reluctant stirring of interest in how that would have played out. He had no experience with harpies or the subduing of them. What would he have done if she had flung herself at him? For some reason, even though she had been fully dressed at the time, he imagined her with her braids flying and nothing on but her shift.

When she had blazed at him so indignantly, he had felt jolted to his core. It was as if something sat up inside him at recognizing some quality in her. In the battlefield, something similar alerted him to a worthy foe. He had never encountered such a thing with a woman before. He had been half inclined to sit back down and engage with her, but something held him back.

Mayhap it had been the murderous gleam in her eye. He had noticed how tightly her fingers were wrapped around her napkin, as though wringing the life out of it. It wouldn’t take much to get her flying out of the chair in a fury. That really shouldn’t excite him, he reflected with a quick shake of his head. His tastes must be getting warped. It was getting ridiculous if even a show of temper had him aroused.

His mind was likely disordered after the happenings of the previous day. It wasn’t until he was nearing the property that he started wondering what he would tell her family if it turned out she was nowhere in the vicinity. It was precisely at that point when he spotted the lone figure trudging over the field to the left of the sprawling half-timbered manor house the Burrells called home.

There was something familiar about that flapping white headdress and blue dress. He did a double-take. Was it her? It was her. He felt an overwhelming tide of some strong emotion that he couldn’t identify for the moment. To his surprise, it felt like something close to relief.

In his mind’s eye, he had pictured her flagging down some cart or wagon on the road, not walking cross country. She might know a shortcut, he conceded, but she still must have walked some miles. Her hem was wet and mud-spattered. She had a high color in those cheeks and sparkling eyes.