‘Thank goodness! How wonderful, Gregory.’
‘And Millington has been all that is generous and welcoming. Very straightforward about settlements and what he expects and none of it unreasonable. I was just working through the papers when you got home. He wants certain guarantees for Harriet’s future and trusts for the children and so forth.’
‘He sees your true character, Gregory,’ Phyllida said warmly, feeling the guilt like a knife in the stomach. ‘But I am sorry, I have done something so imprudent that I fear Mr Millington may withdraw his consent to the match.’
‘What?’ He stared at her. ‘What on earth could you have done? Is it Clere? I knew I should never have allowed you to go off with him!’
‘Gregory, sit down, please. It was the most awful combination of circumstances and not Lord Clere’s fault at all.’ She explained what had happened at the inn while he paced up and down the room, swearing under his breath. ‘I must go and speak to Mr and Mrs Millington before they hear of this in any other way.’
‘Lord, yes.’ Her brother sank into a chair and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I’ll come with you, of course, they must see I support you completely. But where is Clere? He should be here with a special licence in his hand, telling me how he intends to safeguard your honour.’
‘I have no idea where Lord Clere might be.’ Phyllida closed her eyes, overcome with weariness. ‘I escaped from the inn befo
re we could speak of it. I do not wish to marry him.’
But she did need his help to calm the scandal and safeguard Gregory’s betrothal. She had expected him to overtake them, stop the chaise, demand that they discuss it there and then. Now she wondered with a shiver whether Ashe simply intended to ignore the whole thing and brazen it out. She was on the knife-edge of respectability as it was, a completely unsuitable wife for him, but surely there was something he could do to help?
‘Be damned to that!’ her brother exploded. ‘You must marry him. I am going round there right now and if he is not prepared to do the right thing he can name his seconds.’
‘Gregory—’ The knock on the door cut her short. Ashe.
‘A letter for you, Miss Phyllida.’ Jane had remembered to put it on the silver slaver and presented it with a flourish, all crisp expensive paper and heavy red seal.
Phyllida knew that seal. She broke it, spread open the single sheet with hands that shook and read out loud,
‘Miss Hurst,
I trust you will have recovered sufficiently from your indisposition to attend Mrs Lawrence’s party this evening. I am reliably informed that Lady Castlebridge will attend, as will the Millington family. I intend to silence the lady and reassure those whom you hope will be your future in-laws in a manner that I trust will meet with your approval.
I remain your obedient servant,
Clere.’
‘He is going to propose and announce it there and then,’ Gregory said, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. ‘Thank heavens for that.’
‘I do not wish to marry him and there is absolutely no reason why I should,’ Phyllida protested. ‘If I just explain to the Millingtons, and then carry on as though nothing has happened, it will quickly become apparent that the cause of my sickness is exactly what I say.’
‘You cannot refuse an offer of marriage to the heir to a marquisate,’ Gregory protested. ‘Besides, the mud will stick.’
‘I most certainly can refuse him. It would seem as though I had schemed to entrap him! My only concern is your marriage to Harriet and if we can convince the Millingtons that there is no truth in this, then all should be well.’
Gregory looked ready to argue the matter all day and night if necessary. ‘I am going to rest until this evening,’ she said wearily and cast the shawl aside. ‘I cannot talk about this any more now.’
‘Miss Hurst, I am very pleased to see you again.’ Mrs Millington shook hands with a beaming smile. The gossip had not reached her yet then. ‘Lord Fransham will have told you the happy news, I have no doubt,’ she added in lowered tones as Phyllida joined her and her husband in a quiet corner of the reception.
‘Indeed, yes. I understand there is to be no announcement until Miss Millington’s twentieth birthday next month, but I am very happy for both of them. She will make Gregory a wonderful wife and I know him to be deeply attached to her.’ She plied her fan and tried to see if there was any sign of either Lady Castlebridge or Ashe in the chattering crowd that filled Mrs Lawrence’s large salon.
‘Are you quite well, Miss Hurst?’
She snatched the opportunity. ‘To be frank, Mrs Millington, I am feeling somewhat fragile. An internal upset caused by bad fish,’ she added in a whisper. ‘Do you mind if we sit down?’
‘Of course not. Mr Millington, do find a waiter with a glass of wine for Miss Hurst, she is not feeling quite the thing.’
She waited until he came back with a glass and when he would have moved out of earshot put one hand on his arm to detain him. ‘Please stay, sir. I must confess I had a most unpleasant encounter this morning and it has quite shaken me. I was taken ill at an inn where we had stopped to change horses. I fainted and was observed by Lady Castlebridge being assisted by Lord Clere, who also happened to be there.’ She did not have to act to produce the quaver in her voice. ‘She leapt to the most appalling conclusions when she found him supporting me in a bedchamber and I fear so much that any scandal will reflect most unfairly upon my brother.’
‘That woman,’ Mrs Millington uttered in tones of loathing. ‘She lives for gossip and has the most unpleasant, snubbing manner. Why, I would not believe a word she says, my dear Miss Hurst, if she swore the sky was blue.’
Her husband, Phyllida saw, was less certain. ‘There is bound to be talk.’