Chapter Thirteen #3
Bram knew he was intimidating even when in good humor, but he was now angry enough to breathe fire, and even those burly footmen were quaking in their boots. “Dinna move if ye value yer lives. I’ll see ye hanged if ye dare touch her again.”
They nodded.
He now turned to Gwenys’s father, picked him up, and tossed the spineless man over his shoulder. “How can ye ever let anyone treat yer daughter that way?”
He carried the protesting lord to his waiting carriage, ordered his driver to open the door, and dropped him ungently into it.
To his surprise, he saw Lady Trowbridge seated in the carriage. “I might have known ye were behind this evil nonsense.”
He then strode back to the house, hauled a still-shrieking Lady Lowery over his shoulder, and plunked her down beside her friend.
The noise brought all the neighbors running out to see what was happening.
Bram stood ready to take them all on, but quickly saw that none of the men, not even Lord Lowery’s own footmen, were going to lift a finger to assist the earl and his shrew of a wife.
Those footmen followed him out of the house and were waiting for him to give them the nod to resume their positions at the rear of the carriage.
Obviously, they were eager to be gone from here before Bram decided to do exactly as he’d threatened and have them hanged.
The ladies he had met earlier, Berry, Gwendolyn, and Suzanna, rushed over to a weeping Gwenys to comfort her while two men, likely the husbands, nudged Miranda behind them and purposely set themselves between the ladies and the earl’s carriage, creating a wall of muscle.
The arrival of the Duchess Square husbands evened the odds, although Bram’s stature as a duke had immediately weighed the outcome in his favor. Not even Gwenys’s stepmother was deranged enough to believe she would ever win this battle.
Bram now turned to the Lowery footmen and gave them the nod to take their positions on the carriage.
This signaled an end to the confrontation, but it did not stop that witch of a stepmother from hurling vile epithets at Miranda and Gwenys while her carriage rolled off.
Lady Trowbridge merely smiled maliciously.
Gwenys threw herself into Miranda’s arms and wept some more.
Bram could see Miranda was shaken, as well. He was livid, seething, but composed enough to extend his appreciation to the men who remained standing beside him. “Grateful to ye, Lord…?”
The two gentlemen laughed. “Gideon Knight, and not a gentleman,” said the first, a big man with dark hair and a stern countenance.
“John Bonham,” the other said, shaking Bram’s offered hand. “Not an ounce of blue blood in me, either.”
“Bram Lanark, Duke of Solway.” Bram invited the men to follow him inside, since their wives were already in Miranda’s house and these men did not look like the sort to leave their loves to fend for themselves, especially after an incident such as this one.
They followed him in, and the three of them joined the ladies in Miranda’s parlor. Gwenys was shaking like a leaf beside Miranda, who had her arms around the girl.
Miranda’s eyes were also watery, but she had not yet shed tears. “What are we to do about this?” She was looking straight at Bram for answers.
“We could hide Gwenys,” Gideon suggested. “She’ll be of age within a matter of months. Forget her Season, since that stepmother of hers is going to do all in her power to ruin it anyway. I’m sorry, Gwenys. I’m sure there are many gentlemen who would have found you charming and offered for you.”
His wife, Berry, frowned at the idea. “She is not an escaped prisoner to be hiding out. Nor should we be intimidated into letting all of her lovely gowns go to waste.”
Gwendolyn turned to Miranda. “We all heard the vile names she called you. She is going to spread the word that you are the duke’s… I cannot even say the horrible things she will accuse you of.”
Bram stared at Miranda too. “Much of this problem can be made to go away. No judge would take Gwenys from ye if ye were my duchess.”
Miranda’s tears now fell upon her soft cheeks. “If I were to marry you?”
“Aye.”
“Are you offering?”
Bram sighed. “Always. Ye know my feelings for ye.”
She glanced around the room, slowly assessing everyone’s expressions, and then raced upstairs to her bedchamber in tears.
His gaze came to rest on Gwenys, who was still sniffling, her lips trembling. “Well,” he said, hiding the ache he felt in his heart, “I’m sorry, lass. But I dinna think yer aunt cares to wed me. We’ll have to come up with another idea.”
What could he do if not even this incident was enough to convince Miranda they ought to be husband and wife?
Blast. She had admitted she loved him. He had made no secret of loving her. There did not need to be anything more.
Well, he’d deal with Miranda later. Right now, Gwenys was the problem. He hadn’t a clue yet what to do to keep her safely out of the hands of her family.
What first came to mind was taking her back to Scotland this very evening and having her marry Douglas.
But he had commitments here in London and could not leave for at least another month.
He had Lanark kinsmen here who could watch her, but they also had their own commitments and their own lives to lead.
Bow Street Runners could be hired, he supposed. Aye, that would have to do for now.
He turned to Gideon. “Do ye know of any good Bow Street men?”