Dread filled Fiona.
"I had no idea you were acquainted with such a wide array of females bearing that name." Uncle Seymour nodded, but his eyes remained narrowed, and his gaze returned to them throughout the evening.
Chapter Fifteen
Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting colored shadows on the floor, and Percival shut the door to his bedroom and made his way down the corridor. His eyes were groggy, and he pulled his frock coat tightly around him.
He turned his head in the direction of Fiona's room, but the door remained resolutely shut. She must still be sleeping, and he would be able to catch Fiona's sister and new husband alone and convince them to take him along with them to Harrogate.
The floor beams creaked underneath his unsteady steps, but no red-headed woman rushed out to meet him.
I've outwitted her. The realization brought no sense of triumph with it. He'd actually miss this place. I'll miss her.
He quickened his pace. He would be able to catch a hack in Harrogate and make his way to a mail or stage coach from there. Soon he would be in London. He wouldn't have the jewels with him, but those had always been an excuse. Lady Cordelia didn't need them when he proposed, and he would have a servant send for them, just as he should have done in the beginning. He doubted Fiona would refuse to give them at that point.
Footsteps padded behind him, and he grinned. Fiona was there. He braced his cane onto the floor and turned his head, but the only person in the hallway was a chamber maid. She gave him a tentative smile, and he nodded at her. His throat dried.
He was really leaving. He hadn't needed to wait for his relatives to rescue him discretely after all. Somehow, he'd imagined that Fiona would make some attempt to keep him here. He'd grown accustomed to her spirited motions.
He grasped hold of the banister and made his way down the stairs, grateful at least that no one was there to see his clumsy motions. He'd never much had a use for banisters before, and now they seemed like the finest invention in the world.
The entryway was empty, and he heaved open the door to the outside, to freedom.
"Let me help you with that." A man who exuded Corinthian charm grasped hold of the handle and grinned more than most people were capable of at any time, much less early in the morning. "You must be my new brother."
Percival blinked.
"Lord Somerville," the man said, smiling.
Rosamund's husband.
Percival blinked. The earl was clothed in a great coat and beaver-skin top hat. Behind him was a black sleigh pulled by white horses. The horses wore red plumes in their headgear, stomping occasionally on the fresh snow, though appearing on the whole quite relaxed at the prospect of journeying atop it.
"We're still going to Harrogate?" Percival asked. "Miss Amberly expressed reluctance, but I was hoping I might still join-"
"Naturally! We're relatives now. Well, practically." The earl beamed. "My brothers live near here. It will be grand to have another man join us for cards."
"Marvelous," Percival said, though the word exaggerated his emotional state. For some reason, the thought of leaving failed to fill him with joy. He wouldn't be lighting any Roman candles.
"But don't worry about Miss Amberly," the earl said. "The women are on their way."
Percival blinked. "Your wife?"
"And Miss Amberly. She insisted on joining. Said you would be sure to want to go. Mrs. Amberly said you would be sleeping, but it seems Miss Amberly was right after all. True love has its power, doesn't it?" Somerville chuckled.
Percival rubbed his hand through his hair. "I seem to recall that Miss Amberly despised Harrogate."
"Yes, yes. She professes a dislike for shopping. I suppose she couldn't be parted from you after all. It's nice to see her so in love. The way she talks about you." Somerville beamed.
"Er … Yes." Percival peered at the entrance to the manor house.
"Makes me feel like I'm not the only romantic in the world," Somerville mused. "They'll be out any moment now. No need to worry."
Percival shifted, sinking into the fresh snow.
The sound of jingles came from the distance. A set of horses pulled another sleigh. This one was painted a cheerful red. The horses' heads were proudly raised. The sleigh was large with two rows, and a driver occupied one of them.
"I took the liberty of getting the groom to prepare the sleigh here." Somerville laughed. "One day you'll be arranging all of this."
"Right."
He'd only just met Somerville, but the weight of the lie pressed on him. Somerville believed he was meeting his new brother-in-law, and in reality he was simply meeting a stranger whom he might one day encounter in London. Somerville didn't even know Percival's name.
The earl eyed him. "Let's get you into the sleigh, Captain. I'm awfully sorry about what happened to you at Waterloo. It must be a dreadful shame. Such a bother. So near the end too."
"I'm making do."
Somerville's words came from a good place, but Percival was tired of making conversation about his injury, and listening to people alternatively bemoan his poor fortune or laud the fact that he'd made it out alive at all, depending on their propensity toward optimism or pessimism.
But perhaps the problem was with himself, for he seemed equally critical of people who mentioned his leg and of people who avoided mention out of politeness.
The Napoleonic Wars had brought many soldiers back in various states of wholeness, and Percival was far more fortunate than most of those returning.
He made his way to the sleigh, tottering over the snow-covered cobblestones. His hand tightened around his cane, and he allowed the earl to help him inside. A thick woolen blanket lay on the seat, representing everything cozy. The driver nodded to him, and he blinked under the bright, blue sky and the bright rays of sun.
Before long the door to the castle opened. The countess appeared first, and then Fiona. Fiona's face was tight, but when she spotted him, her shoulders relaxed and she smiled.
The countess laughed. "Is that your fiancé?"
Fiona nodded.
The woman's eyes sparkled, and she glided toward him.
"My sister, please let me present my fiancé, Captain Knightley." Fiona's face pinkened a charming color, and she thrust her eyelashes downward. "Darling, this is Lady Somerville."
"I must admit part of me questioned your existence," the countess said. "And yet you are here in the flesh."
"Mostly," he replied.
The countess's eyebrows flew up, and he pointed to his wooden leg.
She laughed and turned to Fiona. "I like him."
Fiona gave her a wobbly smile.
"And really, you mustn't worry about your lack of a leg. I'm sure it's more common than one might think." The countess smiled brightly. "We are departing for London tomorrow. Somerville needs to meet with his brothers-they're such rakes, and I know it does them good to see him."
"Indeed."
"Quite," the countess chattered. "They'll meet at the Duchess of Belmonte's ball. The Duke of Alfriston will even be there."
Percival stiffened and he avoided the countess's gaze.
"Why, he's even missing a leg just like you!" The countess clapped her hands.
"But you haven't met?" Percival asked finally.
"No, no. All a bit mysterious really. He wasn't supposed to be a duke at all. But then his cousin died-that beastly Bonaparte, and now he's rich."
"Imagine," Percival said faintly.
"Life is most mysterious." The countess smiled. "My poor sister was most worried this morning when she did not see you. It was most charming to see. I thought nothing fazed her."
Fiona frowned. "Perhaps we should go."
"Let's leave the lovebirds, darling," the earl said, and Rosamund joined him.
Percival exhaled, as the countess glided over the snow, oblivious that she'd just spoken of him.
Fiona climbed into the sleigh and settled into the seat beside him.
"But what of your hatred for shopping?"
She tilted her head. "You didn't really imagine I would abandon you?"
He snorted, and warmth spread through his chest. "It would be unlike you."
"I aim for not surprising you," Fiona said, and he laughed.
"You're the most surprising woman I ever met," Percival said.
Fiona's eyes widened, and she fiddled with the blanket. Pink tinged her cheekbones.
The sleigh moved swiftly, the horses not impeded with the heavy weight of a carriage. He shifted in his seat.