"Your strange behavior seems to have caused an extraordinary degree of trouble and misunderstanding," his brother said with a calm that Charles distrusted. "We shall discuss it further at home,Charles, when we can have more privacy. For now, I suggest that we begin the journey home if we wish to arrive before morning!"
It was agreed, after much voluble discussion in two languages, that the three Spaniards would travel together in one carriage with Charles, their servant on the box with the coachman, and that the countess would travel in the other carriage with her sister and Devin Northcott. Devin's insistent offer to ride Brampton's horse so that the earl could travel with his wife was just as persistently declined.
Brampton, Devin, and Margaret were the last to leave the parlor.
"I owe you an apology, Dev," Brampton said stiffly. "I made an unforgiveable assumption. Forgive me?"
"Don't mention it, old man," Devin replied awkwardly, and glanced uneasily at Margaret, who still sat, pale as a ghost, in her chair by the fire. He followed the others outside.
Brampton crossed the room to his wife's side. She waited, with lowered eyes, for his apology, for an end to this terrible nightmare. He had never spoken harshly to her before.
"I shall escort you to your carriage, ma'am," he said, his voice devoid of all expression, and extended his arm to her.
Margaret never knew afterward how that interminable journey was passed. The atmosphere in the carriage was almost unbearably uncomfortable. Each of the three occupants felt embarrassed in the presence of the others. Margaret herself felt humiliated that Devin had witnessed the set-down Richard had given her and embarrassed that he could have thought she was running away with Devin; she felt vexed with Charlotte. Devin was equally embarrassed at Brampton's mistake, and unhappy over the continued coolness of Bram to his wife, which had been evident when he handed her silently into the carriage; he felt shy with Charlotte, unable to say what he wanted to say because Margaret was there, and yet quite incapable of talking about other matters. Charlotte was self-conscious in the presence of Devin, unsure of his attitude toward her and therefore uncertain of how she should behave; she felt guilty in the presence of Meg, knowing she had behaved disgracefully and somehow aware that she had brought Meg into disfavor with his lordship.
The Earl of Brampton, who had been on the road all day long and who was soaked to the skin, rode close to the two carriages more by instinct than by conscious effort. His mind was almost numb. He had been humiliated by his foolish gaffe back at the inn. It had been stupidity to assume that Dev and his wife were running away together. Dev had ever proved a loyal friend and his scheming little wife had nothing to gain either socially or financially by running away. Yet he was aware that his confrontation with her was still to come. But it was going to be more difficult now that the momentum had gone from his attack. Why the devil had he wanted to scoop her up into his arms and cradle her head against his shoulder when she sat so pale and still back at that infernal inn?
And then there was Charles' situation to be dealt with when they got home. No one but Charles would be capable of presenting his family with such a surprise and in such a ludicrously mismanaged way. It was almost amusing, the earl decided grimly. He was going to have to contend with his mother's fits of the vapors for what would be left of the evening by the time they arrived back, he did not doubt. Charles meanwhile was enjoying every moment of the trip, sitting beside his Juana and holding her hand, and entering into a hearty quarrel with her over the reception she had received from her future brother- and sister-in-law. She had considered it decidedly cool. He had thought it remarkably warm.
Some time after a very late dinner, when all the participants in the Portsmouth fiasco plus the dowager countess were in the drawing room trying to hold a conversation in two languages, with Charles and-to a lesser degree-the earl acting as interpreters, Devin Northcott crossed to Charlotte's side.
"These are family matters that do not concern you or me," he said quietly. "Shall we withdraw?"
She was on her feet in a moment, nervously aware that her future was about to be decided one way or another.
He led her to the library, the weather being still too damp to permit a stroll in the garden. Charlotte seated herself on a sofa; Devin crossed to the empty fireplace and rested one arm on the mantel.
"Ain't going to make a speech," he said. "You'll find some reason to bite my head off again if I do. Do I have any hope, Charlotte?"
"Any hope, sir?" Charlotte was alarmed at how loudly her voice came out.
"I love you," he said. "Want to marry you."
"Oh!"
"Oh? Nothing more to say? Most unusual."
Charlotte got shakily to her feet. "I thought perhaps I had so disgraced myself today," she said humbly, "that you would not wish to associate with me anymore."
"Well, you do get into more scrapes than any other girl I ever knew," said Devin unwisely. "Thought I might help keep a firm hand on you. Wouldn't want m' wife jauntering around the country with other men whenever she wanted, y'know."
"Oh! There you go again," Charlotte flared. "So I am still a flirt! Still a little girl who needs a strong hand. And you, sir, are still stuffy and conceited and-oh! What are you doing?"
"Shutting you up," he said grimly. "Don't intend to have a scold for a wife."
Charlotte found herself being firmly held and soundly kissed by her stuffy, conceited suitor, and thoroughly enjoying the ordeal.
Devin was slightly breathless when he finally released her mouth. "Anything else to say?" he asked severely.
"No, Devin."
"Good."
He kissed her again, and her arms found their way around his neck and into his hair.
"Nothing official, mind," he said several minutes later as they sat together on the sofa, though they might as well have chosen a chair for all the space they occupied. "Have to leave in the morning to visit your father. Is he likely to approve?"
"Oh, I think so," she sighed, burrowing her head into his shoulder. "Will you be gone long, Devin?"
"Only as long as I have to," he said. "Probably find you gone to fight Napoleon in Spain by the time I get back."
"No, truly, Devin, I shall be waiting for you. I have loved you forever, I promise."
"Make sure it stays that way," he commanded sternly.
"Yes, Devin."
Chapter 16
Margaret was sitting at her dressing table, dressed in her white nightgown, high at the neck and long sleeved. Kitty was unpinning her braids in preparation for brushing them out and replaiting them for the night.
She had been so looking forward to Richard's return home, had missed him so much in his few days of absence. And now Lottie's stupid behavior had spoiled everything. Oh, it was most vexing! Margaret had been perfectly aware that it was not quite the thing for her to ride to Portsmouth in a closed carriage with Devin Northcott, but really, given what they had believed, there had been no choice. Devin himself had seen that, and there was no more high stickler than he. Surely Richard would have understood, too.
Margaret remembered with an inward shudder the look on his face when he had entered the parlor and spoken to Devin, and she remembered his words to her. She could not understand why he had behaved that way. Apparently there had been some misunderstanding with his mother, so that he had ridden all the way to Portsmouth believing that she had run away with Devin. But surely, once he had realized the truth, he should have changed toward her. He had begged pardon of Devin. Yet to her he had been coldly formal ever since. He had hardly looked at her since their return home and had talked to her only when strictly necessary. She could understand that he must be embarrassed by his own mistake, but surely he owed her some sort of apology.