"I presume you heard that," Devon said. "He doesn't need my help."
Blake approached and patted him on the back. "Maybe he doesn't, but I think I can speak for Garrett and certainly for myself. If you still want to be helpful and speak to Father, we're behind you all the way."
"Not itching to be shackled just yet?" he asked.
"Not even close," Blake replied. "But that is not why I am here. There appears to be a gentleman in the library who wishes to speak to you."
"Did you tell him I am in the middle of my wedding celebrations?"
"Yes. I invited him to join us in fact, but he did not wish to intrude. He nevertheless insisted on speaking with you. Alone."
"Who is it?" Devon asked.
Blake stopped and drew in a deep breath. "I'm afraid it is none other than your new father-in-law, Lord Creighton. And I must warn you, Devon. He looks rather pale for a man recently returned from India."
Chapter 14
Devon entered the library to find Lord Creighton pacing back and forth, tapping his cane across the floor. The instant he became aware of Devon's presence in the room, he halted and looked up-though his shoulders remained hunched forward. His gray eyebrows drew together with concern, and he bit down on his lower lip.
Devon greeted him warmly. "Lord Creighton, welcome to Pembroke."
The man was smaller and more frail than he remembered. He stared speechlessly at Devon for a moment, as if he did not know the proper thing to say.
Devon studied him, then made another attempt at a greeting. "What marvelous timing you have. May I presume you are here to bestow your good wishes?"
At least he hoped that was what his father-in-law was doing here. But the fact that he did not wish to intrude upon the celebrations did not indicate all was well. Devon could not help but be on his guard.
Creighton cleared his throat and spoke shakily. "Am I correct in my assumption that the wedding ceremony has already taken place?"
"Indeed it has," Devon replied. "Just over an hour ago. I presume Lady Saxby's letter about our impending nuptials reached you?"
But even as he spoke the words, he knew it could not be so. Rebecca's aunt had posted a letter to the earl immediately following the announcement of their engagement, which was less than a week ago, and she had posted it to India.
Creighton cleared his throat again. "No, I received no letter. I did not even know my daughter had come here."
Devon pondered the earl's pronouncement. "To be honest, sir, I did not expect you to know, and I am surprised to see you. It was my understanding that you were abroad, traveling in India, and could not easily be reached."
The earl's brow furrowed with distress, and he almost appeared to be fighting a complete breakdown. "India? Is that what they told you?"
"Yes."
The frail man backed up and sank into a chair, while Devon struggled to hold on to his calm, for clearly there was something afoot here, which he did not fully understand. And he did not enjoy being kept in the dark.
He took a few seconds to gather his wits about him. "You are obviously surprised by what has transpired, sir, as I am equally surprised by your unexpected appearance, not to mention your reaction to all of this. May I ask what is going on?"
The earl collected himself, then looked up into Devon's eyes. "Nothing. It is nothing. I am simply taken aback, that is all. My daughter left home without telling me where she was going, and I did not expect to discover that she had become a married woman."
Not entirely convinced the earl was telling him everything, Devon nevertheless spoke with understanding. "I believe it is always a surprise to any father, to see his daughter as a wife."
"Yes, exactly." But the man's eyes were darting around the room in a panic.
Devon slowly moved to the sofa and sat down. "I apologize, sir, for the suddenness of this, but I would like you to know that I discussed the matter in some depth with Lady Saxby, who assured me you had entrusted Rebecca into her care. She assured me also that you wished to see Rebecca happily married. I expressed my desire to speak to you directly about my intentions, but was informed it was not necessary. Rebecca is twenty-one today, as you know."
"Yes, I do know." He paused for a moment. "But to marry so quickly…Did you have an arrangement before? Did you plan it? Have you been secretly writing to each other?"
Devon frowned. "No, I had not seen or heard from your daughter since that night on the old coach road four years ago. In fact, I was in America until very recently."
"So there was no previous arrangement?" he asked again, as if he could not quite believe it and needed further clarification.
"No," Devon replied. "We simply…" He did not quite know how to say it. "I believed we were a good match."
The man's shoulders relaxed slightly, though he still appeared distraught. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised she came here. She often spoke of you over the years since that night. It was my impression that she considered you very heroic. I believe she idolized you."
The earl continued to sit with both hands folded over the handle of his cane, his posture curled forward, his expression forlorn, while Devon felt a rather urgent need to have an immediate conversation with his new bride.
"Allow me if you will, Lord Creighton, to go and fetch Rebecca. I am sure she would like to see you. It is her wedding day after all."
The man considered it. "No, no, I do not wish to impose."
"It would be no imposition."
"No, I really…" He hesitated. "I beg your pardon, I am certain she would not wish to see me."
Devon narrowed his gaze at the earl. "Because of your…disagreement?"
"So you do know the circumstances," he said. "I suspected as much. It explains the hastiness of your wedding."
Devon made no reply. He simply sat in silence, waiting for the man to explain himself.
"I suppose, in that case," the earl said shakily, looking all around the room, appearing more and more distraught with every passing second, "that she was right to come here. You are her hero, destined to be her rescuer and protector." He stood up and strode to the window. He was breathing very hard. "Perhaps I should try not to be so distressed by this. Perhaps I should be thankful, for you have succeeded where I have failed. At least she will be safe with you."
Safe.
Devon listened to all of this with a throbbing ache in his gut. He was to be her hero? Her protector?
What was going on, and what had she wanted from him, which she did not disclose?
He felt that weight bearing down upon his shoulders-the weight of everyone's mistaken notions that he could take care of them and solve all their problems. He had come home to a family who thought he could not only deal with his father's madness, but could stop a family curse and prevent a flood from sweeping them all away. Now to learn that the one woman who seemed to be a respite from all of those lofty expectations had expectations of her own as well….
She had come here to ensnare him for some reason, so that he could protect her from something. God only knew what.
"Lord Creighton, I suggest you start at the beginning and tell me what I am protecting your daughter from, because contrary to what you think, I know nothing."
The earl turned instantly to face him. "I beg your pardon. Did you say you do not know?"
"It appears your daughter is very good at keeping secrets."
Creighton covered his face with a hand and squeezed at his temples. "Damn my life," he whispered irritably as he limped back to the sofa and sat down again.
"Sir, I require an explanation," Devon repeated.
"Yes, it seems you do, and I will give you one. My daughter came here to escape a future she did not want-more precisely-to escape her betrothed."
Devon returned to the reception room and stopped just inside the door. He let his gaze pass over everyone in the room and spotted his wife conversing with Charlotte and a few other guests. They were standing by a bouquet of daffodils. Rebecca was holding a cup of tea in her hands and smiling, as if she hadn't a care in the world.