Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
So visible had been his wife’s fretting that Richard made the decision for them to depart for London that very afternoon.
Why he considered it wise to chart a journey that would require many miles traveling by lamplight was not something he could explain.
But it did feel as if the opportunity to be of service to Adelaide was not to be missed.
And if it caused them a trifle bit more danger or risk, then it was a risk he would simply have to bear.
Her maid and his valet traveled with them.
But Windles and Nexton were hardly sparkling conversationalists, and Richard considered it a blessing to be relieved of their presence when they pulled up to the last coaching inn of their journey.
It was a short reprieve, since they were only seeing to a few supplies. But it was a reprieve, nonetheless.
Richard tossed his head backwards with a sigh. He had long thought his days of battling to be in the past. It was most certainly a surprise to find more foes on English soil, even if they were of the more personal variety.
“Thank you, Richard.” Adelaide’s soft voice filled the interior of their carriage.
Richard looked towards her.
Rather than cowering, his wife was looking directly at him, her eyes brimming with emotion. He reached for her hands without a second thought.
“It is the least I can do.”
“I know that Macy is not your responsibility, and I cannot think of why any man would want to saddle himself with the trouble of looking after someone who is neither friend nor kin. But you are, above everything, a good man. And I thank you for your goodness.”
His chest tightened. “I am but an ordinary man.”
“No.” Adelaide turned her fingers to clutch his hand in return. He’d shed his gloves for the trip, too agitated to be cold. But her fingers, even through her gloves, felt delicate and feminine and maddeningly distracting. “You are not ordinary. You are the best man I have ever known.”
Richard tried not to blush. It was most unbecoming of a soldier. “You cannot mean that.”
“Who else but a hero would allow Macy’s well-being to disturb his peace? Who else would race across England to give his wife peace-of-mind? O Richard, I wish that I were a better wife, that I—”
Here, she cut herself off, her eyes glistening. Richard lifted an arm in invitation, too carried away by her distress to consider the possibility of rejection. And instead of shying away, Adelaide buried herself against his side, once more the wounded maiden who needed and trusted him.
Did he need to perpetually be rescuing her to prevent her from recoiling from him? The question taunted him, but he contented himself for the time being with the chance to be her knight in shining armor once more, if just for another few days.
But there was one question he did want answers to.
“I hope, Adelaide, that you know you can trust me.”
“I do.”
He heaved a breath. “Good. And if you do, then I beseech you to trust me with this information.”
He lifted her away from him slightly, just enough to look her in the eye.
“Who is Macy?”
She did not answer immediately. But he could see how the cogs behind her eyes turned—evaluating, deciding. If he truly were her hero, then it was imperative that he be told what dragon they were being called to slay.
“She is my sister,” said Adelaide quietly.
“I see.”
“Born of my mother.”
Her words hung in the cold, early morning air.
“But not your father,” he prodded gently.
Adelaide sniffed. “No.”
“Ah.”
“Yes.”
“And I take it your aunt is aware of that.”
“She threatens me constantly with it—and mistreats Macy so.”
Slowly, Richard nodded. It did not explain all the oddities in their marriage thus far, but it did explain Adelaide’s attachment to the young girl.
It was, at least, a minuscule step towards their full understanding of one another.
The carriage shifted from side to side as Windles and Nexton climbed in. Richard let go of his wife to let each of them return to their seats.
But he tried to tell her what he could with his eyes—that it didn’t matter to him who Macy’s parents were. As long as she mattered to Adelaide, she would matter to him.
Air felt scarce in her lungs as their carriage turned towards Piccadilly.
She knew it was unreasonable to think that her stays were tightening magically around her body, but Adelaide could have sworn they were supernaturally shrinking as they approached the townhouse she’d thought she would never have to see again.
She’d spent the last few miles of their journey wondering if she had made the right decision confiding in Richard.
Would he disdain her now for her mother’s low character?
Adelaide liked to believe that loose morals were not passed on by blood, but she knew most of society would argue against the idea.
It was why one family member’s scandal was the entire family’s scandal. To be tainted by association was enough to doom many a young lady into spinsterhood or even total social rejection.
Did Richard regret marrying her now?
Their conveyance pulled to a stop in front of their destination, and Adelaide set aside her own doubts for the more immediate need to rescue her sister.
Richard, the ever-efficient colonel, lost no time in assisting himself and his wife down. He sent the carriage and the servants to Avington House, with instructions for the driver to return later once all their belongings had been unloaded.
It was clear. It was commanding. Yet there was not a trace of cruel control, and Adelaide cursed herself once more for having ever doubted his trustworthiness. Truly, she ought to tell him everything.
But she had already divulged her mother’s secrets today. Her father’s would have to wait.
“Colonel and Mrs. Avington,” Richard said decisively, complete with his card, when the manservant let them in. Adelaide clung to her husband’s arm the entire way, drawing from his strength. “We can see ourselves in.”
The servant did not care to protest, and Richard marched them towards the parlor immediately. They heard the voices long before they saw the faces. The very sound of Mr. Bamburst’s dripping vowels were enough to send a shudder down Adelaide’s spine.
“You cannot possibly expect anything else,” the villain said, his words drifting through the open parlor door. “A baseborn woman can hardly make for a wife.”
“I do not know what you are talking of, Mr. Bamburst,” Aunt Dinah replied. “My niece is every bit the lady her sister was.”
“You think I would not make sure of what I am purchasing?” Mr. Bamburst thundered. “I’ve asked the servants, traced your finances, made sure of what you are offering—you cannot possibly fool me the way you fooled that Avington fellow.
“If he could marry her, you can marry this one.”
“The child of a gentleman is hardly the same as the child of a servant!”
Adelaide inhaled sharply as the reality of Macy’s low birth hung in the air.
She had far too much awareness of moral absolutes to think her mother in the right, no matter her father’s behavior.
But as far as society was concerned, a lonely woman falling for a neighborly gentleman’s charms was a far cry from taking solace in the arms of a footman.
“What is the meaning of this?” Richard commanded the room as soon as they entered it, drawing all eyes to his tall frame.
Aunt Dinah stared, Macy whimpered beside her, and Mr. Bamburst stood across from the two women with his mouth agape. Adelaide let go of her husband to rush to her sister’s side, and Macy fell into her arms even as the others stood still as statues.
Mr. Bamburst recovered first, huffing loudly. “What is the meaning of this, you say? Well, I say it is none of your business, Colonel.”
“Miss Macy Pershing is my wife’s family, and my wife’s business is always my business,” Richard answered calmly.
“Have you not meddled enough by taking the older one? Must you bed both sisters to satisfy yourself?”
Macy whimpered again, and Adelaide pulled her closer, one hand soothing her back.
“You would be wise to temper your words, Mr. Bamburst,” said Richard.
“Or what? What do I have to lose?” The large man raised both arms in an angry gesture before dropping them once more. “By your trickery, I have lost the elder sister. It is only fair I claim the younger.”
“As I said before, Mr. Bamburst,” Aunt Dinah said, her voice acidic as ever, “you can always sign a proper settlement and marry the chit.”
“And risk my lineage on a natural child?”
“Enough, Bamburst!” Richard roared.
“Are you shocked by the accusations?” The merchant tried to tower over the soldier, failing utterly. “Do you even know what sort of woman has given birth to your wife?”
“I refuse to condemn either sister for the sins of their forebears.”
“Then more fool you.”
“Yes, more fool I,” Richard answered. Then he spun to face Aunt Dinah. “More fool I indeed to have believed you capable of keeping your word.”
Aunt Dinah sneered. “I promised to stop treating her as a servant.”
“And so you decide the right course of action is to treat her as a possession to be sold instead?”
“Have you not heard? I mean only to arrange a happy future for her with Mr. Bamburst.”
“Your niece is a mere twelve years of age!”
Aunt Dinah sniffed and then scowled. “Of legal age to be wed.”
“Not under coercion.”
“And who is to say she is unwilling? I am her guardian, and no one can be more informed than I of her wishes.”
“I trusted you with Macy’s well-being before, Miss Ravenstone, and I see now how utterly misplaced that trust has been. Now, I demand that custody of her person be transferred to me. She shall be removed immediately, today, with us. And my wife and I shall take care of her from this day on.”
“You cannot do that.”
“I do not think you can stop me.”
“Well, I do. There is no reason whatsoever for Macy to go with you when she has an aunt perfectly capable of seeing to her best interests.”