The Earl of Brampton drove his curricle into the courtyard of his country home through a drizzle that seemed to herald a heavier rain later on. It suited his mood to perfection, he thought grimly, making no attempt to prevent droplets of rain from dripping off his hair and down the back of his neck. He jumped down from his high perch, handed the ribbons to a groom who had come running from the stables, and glanced up to the windows of the drawing room as he ran up the steps and into the house.
"Where is her ladyship?" he asked the footman who took his damp hat and gloves.
"The countess is not at home, my lord," the footman replied, his voice expressionless, his posture stiff. There had been some gossip belowstairs about the goings-on of the morning, and he did not at all like the sound of his lordship's voice or the expression of his face.
"My mother?"
"The dowager Countess of Brampton is in her room, I believe, my lord."
"Thank you." Brampton took the stairs two at a time and knocked on his mother's door. Perhaps she would know where he could find his wife. He was in no mood to postpone this confrontation until she chose to put in an appearance.
"Enter," his mother's voice said from inside the room. She was reclining on a chaise longue, a lace handkerchief held delicately to her forehead. Her lady's maid stood behind her, holding her vinaigrette.
"Ah, Richard, my dear," she said languidly, "thank heaven you are home."
"What is it, Mama?" he asked, his brows knitting.
The dowager paused in the middle of her big scene and surveyed her son. He was obviously blue-deviled over something. He could not have heard yet, though, surely, or he would not be standing so still in the doorway. It flashed through her mind that marriage had not brought much happiness to her favorite son. And yet Margaret was a gem of a wife, even if she was not as flashy and elegant as some of the girls of the ton. And why had there been no announcement of the impending event? Her woman's intuition told her that such an occasion was less than nine months away. Was he not pleased? Had Margaret not told him for some reason? The boy needed a good jolt to convince him of what a treasure he was ignoring. And how dare he barge into her room looking as black as thunder when she was the one with all the woes? She decided on impulse to play devil's advocate.
"It's Margaret," she said faintly.
"Meg?" Was that a look of alarm that momentarily flashed into his eyes. "Is she ill, Mama? Hurt? Where is she?"
"Gone!"
"Gone? What are you talking about, Mama?" The earl strode impatiently into the room and stood over the wilting form of his mother.
"Gone to Portsmouth, Richard. Don't ask me why, my dear."
"Why in thunder has she gone to Portsmouth, Mama? You make no sense at all. Who accompanied her?"
"Devin Northcott, Richard."
"Dev? Why?" Brampton had gone very still.
"Betty, my vinaigrette, please!" The dowager waved a hand vaguely in the direction of her maid. "I think maybe you should go after them, Richard."
Brampton stood rooted to the spot for a moment.
"When did they leave?" he asked with dangerous calm.
"Maybe half an hour ago, dear," she said.
Ten minutes later, the earl was galloping through the gates of Brampton Court, having taken time only to change into a dry coat and to saddle his fastest horse. But already he was soaked.
Margaret rose to her feet as Brampton stood in the doorway of the private parlor at the Crown and Anchor Inn. Devin's hand stayed on her shoulder.
"Richard!" she cried. "What brings you here?" But the glad smile died from her lips as she realized that he was not looking at her. He stood, dripping rainwater onto the carpet, his blue eyes arctic, gazing at Devin.
"I shall see you outside, Northcott," he said very quietly. "Now!"
"I say, Bram," Devin said awkwardly, and he removed his hand from Margaret's shoulder as if he had suddenly realized that it was still there, "you ain't annoyed, are you?"
"I suggest you move immediately," Brampton said through his teeth. "I should hate to make a scene inside a public inn in the presence of a lady."
"Hey, Bram." Devin was beginning to flush with anger. "You've no call to be on your high ropes, y'know. I had to bring lady Bram with me. Wasn't much choice, old man."
"Out!" Brampton said. His eyes had not once shifted from Devin's.
"Richard," Margaret began, "I think there has been some misund-"
"Silence, ma'am!" he thundered, his eyes still not shifting, his voice cold as ice. "You will remain here until I come for you, and silent until I speak to you."
Margaret's face turned chalk-white and she swayed noticeably to her feet. She put a shaking hand to her mouth.
Devin's eyes narrowed. "Can't have you talk like that to a lady," he said, "even if she is your wife. Let's go, Brampton!"
The earl stepped to one side to allow his adversary to pass through the doorway ahead of him. Devin almost collided with Charles, who came bouncing in.
"Anxious to get going, Northcott?" Charles asked cheerfully. "Are the other ladies not down yet? Hey, Dick, where did you spring from?" He stopped in momentary amazement and then burst into amused chuckles. "Who's next?" he said. "Mama and the three girls? We should have quite the family gathering by nightfall."
"What the devil is going on?" Brampton's fists were clenched at his sides. He was regarding Charles as intently as he had looked at Devin just a few minutes before.
"Well, I'm trying to get my betrothed transported from this inn to Brampton Court by nightfall, Dick. But the party keeps getting larger and larger, you see. If I wait much longer, I shall need a whole caravan of carriages." He grinned at the three occupants of the room and then eyed each of them more penetratingly. "Hey, do I detect a certain tension in the air?"
"I believe your brother has just made the same error about me as I made about you when I arrived," Devin said stiffly.
"He thinks you're eloping with Charlotte?" Charles grinned. "Well, that would be more like it, I would say." He winked at Margaret, but suddenly found himself lunging forward to catch her as she fell. "By Jove, Dick," he said, glancing up at his brother with startled eyes as he placed her half-fainting form in a chair and chafed her hands, "you didn't believe what I think you believed, did you?"
Brampton had not moved, had made no effort to go to the assistance of his wife.
"I think you had better start explaining some things, brother," he said quietly.
"Again?" Charles asked, pained. But he was saved from an immediate explanation by the arrival in the room of Charlotte, Juana, the second cousin, and the duenna.
"We are ready," Charlotte announced gaily. "It is amazing how quickly one can learn sign language. Charles, introduce Juana to my sister."
Juana meantime was also chattering to Charles, perhaps saying the same thing in Spanish.
"Oh, my lord!" Charlotte said, suddenly noticing her brother-in-law standing silent to one side of the door. "Are you here, too?"
"I believe I took a wrong turn somewhere on the road," he said grimly. "I seem to have walked into Bedlam."
It took Charles another precious ten minutes to explain the situation to everyone's satisfaction and to introduce Juana to the earl and the countess. Brampton looked somewhat dazed. Charles was not sure whether all this unexpected mixup was working to his advantage or not. Certainly his foreign bride-to-be seemed to have been accepted without argument. Perhaps he was not to escape so lightly after all, though.