“How can you?” His wife turned on him. “The duke will go after him and then what will happen to our son? He will be gaoled, I know it! Locked up for the rest of his life! Or—or challenged to a duel and killed. Oh dear Lord, my son, my son . . .”
Eugenie let their histrionics roll over her. Her last hope was gone. It was all true. Terry really had run off with Annabelle to Scotland. There was no doubt that Sinclair would go after them. With his position and his power he would be able to cover up his sister’s situation, quash the gossip, and marry her off to the man they had already chosen for her.
And what of Terry?
Would he really be thrown into prison, as her mother said? Or would Sinclair shoot him and leave his cold body to be buried somewhere far away from home? Eugenie knew she was becoming hysterical herself, but she couldn’t help it. She kept remembering the duke’s expression as he stood in Major Banks’s library and she wouldn’t put it past him to
revenge himself upon Terry. And, possibly, through him her? Was he still so angry with Eugenie that he would use Annabelle’s elopement as an excuse to punish her in so awful a way?
Don’t be ridiculous, a calming voice warned her. But the emotion was building inside her, panic and a desperate need to do something. Anything! To save her brother from Sinclair’s wrath. And as usual Eugenie felt that this was probably all her fault. If she hadn’t been distracted by her own problems she would have realized what was happening. She could have put a stop to it before the situation reached these catastrophic proportions.
The fault was hers; it was up to her to put things right.
“Don’t worry, Mama,” she said in a voice that betrayed little of her inner turmoil. “I won’t let the duke hurt Terry. I will go with him and bring Terry home.”
“Such a terrible calamity to befall my family,” Mrs. Belmont moaned. “I will never recover from it.”
But Eugenie’s quick mind was already busy, putting plans in place. She looked about her, fixing each member of her family with a serious look. “None of you must mention this, not to anyone. Do you understand? If no one knows and we can get them back home again then there need not be a scandal. As long as no one knows.”
They all nodded and gave their promises in somber voices, even the twins. Eugenie tucked Terry’s letter into her pocket. “Good. I’ll go and quickly pack a bag. I must hurry to Somerton before the duke sets off.”
It said something for their shocked condition that no one thought to protest or point out that Eugenie’s own reputation would be ruined beyond repair by setting off on such an adventure, alone, with the duke. They had simply accepted that Eugenie would step in and make everything all right.
Just as she always did.
Only Jack followed her out of the room to the foot of the stairs. “Do you want me to come with you, Genie?”
Eugenie didn’t want to linger, but he looked so worried. She gave him a reassuring smile. “No, Jack, I’ll be fine. The duke is likely to be cross and you won’t like that.”
“Somerton won’t be cross with you,” Jack assured her confidently. “He likes you. Are you riding the mare? You know what she’s like, and it’s been raining. I’d better come, too.”
Practical as always, Eugenie thought, as she hastily threw a few belongings into her bag, hardly knowing what she was doing. Wrapping her warm wool cloak about her, she hurried back downstairs and followed Jack to the stables.
“You knew about Terry and Lady Annabelle, didn’t you, Jack?” she said, as he saddled the mare.
“He told me not to tell.” He gave her an anxious sideways glance. “I didn’t know he meant to run off with her. He said they were friends, that was all, and he was going to help her out of her pre-predicament.”
“What was her predicament?”
But he just shrugged.
“Didn’t he mention it at all?”
“Well, he asked me once if it was right to do something to help someone even if it meant you’d get into trouble.”
“He asked me something similar.”
So Terry must have had his doubts but he’d gone ahead anyway. Run off with the duke’s sister! Eugenie sighed. Terry really had set a new Belmont standard for harebrained behavior.
On the ride to Somerton she clung to Jack and tried to be calm despite the maelstrom of panic in the pit of her stomach. Jack, misreading her tension, assured her they’d reach the estate before Sinclair left. “And if we don’t then I’ll follow on until we catch up with him.”
Eugenie’s angst was more about coming face-to-face with the duke. The thought of being on the receiving end of his icy anger yet again was making her feel nauseous.
He’d refuse to take her. Of course he would. He would leave her standing on the road while he drove away and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
When they reached Somerton the house was brilliantly lit, bizarrely, as if the St. Johns were about to host a grand gala. They cantered up the side of the driveway, keeping to the few shadows thrown by shrubs and a trellis of vines, and Eugenie saw the duke’s coach waiting outside. A pair of burly servants were busy strapping luggage to the back, while a coachman in a great coat, an old tricorn hat over his grizzled gray hair, held steady the four horses.
Behind them were the doors to the house, wide open, light spilling over the curve of the stairs. As if daring her to climb them.