Never Trust a Rebel(33)

‘But I would happily give you the clothes—’

‘No, sir, I thank you. I could not take them.’

She could not bear to carry with her anything that would remind her of Hartcombe, save the scars on her heart.

‘Ah, good. You are ready.’ Drew ran lightly down the stairs, drawing on his gloves. ‘We should reach Bath within the hour.’ He came to stand beside her. ‘Au revoir, Father.’

Sir Edward nodded.

‘Do you go on out, my boy, and tell the postilion where in Bath you wish to go. I will escort Miss Salforde.’

He did not appear to be overly affected by his son’s departure and as she placed her fingers lightly on the crook of his arm she urged him not to lose touch with Drew again.

‘No, no, I shall not do that,’ he responded in a comfortable tone.

They followed the others out on to the drive. Drew was talking to the postilion but as she approached he went to open the door of the travelling chaise.

Sir Edward stopped and turned to Elyse.

‘I want you to have this, to mark your coming of age.’ He handed her a small square box. ‘Do not look at it now, I do not want you standing about in this chill wind. You may open it once you are on your way.’ He stood back as Mrs Parfitt came to hug her and she said goodbye to Jed, then he helped her into the carriage, saying as she arranged her skirts, ‘And remember, my dear, that if Bath loses its charms, or you need a place of refuge, you will always be welcome at Hartcombe.’

‘Thank you, Sir Edward.’

He turned to Drew and held out his hand.

‘I pray fortune favours you in Bath, my boy.’

‘I shall not stay there a moment longer than necessary.’

Drew gripped his father’s hand then jumped into the carriage. The door was closed behind him and the chaise pulled away. Elyse waved to the little group standing on the drive, only settling back in her seat when they had passed through the rusty gates and were bouncing over the neglected lane that led to the main highway. She stared down at the little box in her hand.

‘Well, are you going to open it?’

She lifted the lid to reveal a small ring nestled into a velvet pad. A single pearl glistened, surrounded by a ring of tiny sparkling diamonds.

‘Oh, it is beautiful,’ she breathed.

She drew off her gloves and slipped the ring on to her finger, holding out her hand to show him.

‘I remember that ring. It belonged to my mother,’ said Drew quietly.

‘Oh, then I cannot—’ She began to pull the ring from her finger but he stopped her.

‘No. My father wanted you to have it. It is a sign of how much he esteems you.’

‘I must write and thank him, once I am settled.’ She turned to fix her gaze on the passing landscape. It was a beautiful gift but she wished Sir Edward had not bestowed it upon her, because it would make the past few days all the harder to forget.



‘And sole control of everything now passes to Miss Salforde.’

The lawyer in his black robes made his pronouncement in a voice laden with foreboding. Elyse watched him sprinkling sand over the newly signed documents to seal the ink, then rose to her feet.

‘Thank you. I shall be obliged if you will act for me during my time in Bath.’

‘Of course, but since you have taken the trouble to consult me, I am bound to say that in my opinion it would be advisable to leave your affairs in the hands of your guardian until everything can be made over to your husband.’

‘Mr Bastion is leaving Bath as soon as we have met with Lord Whittlewood,’ she replied crisply, before Drew could speak. ‘And I am more than capable of looking after my own affairs.’

The lawyer inclined his head, his doubts of her ability evident in every line of his spare body. Elyse took no notice. She waited in frosty silence for Drew to open the door for her, then she swept out of the office.



Drew followed Elyse down the stairs and handed her into the waiting chaise before directing the postilions to drive to Lord Whittlewood’s residence in Queen Square. It was a short journey and undertaken in the same stiff silence that had characterised most of the journey from Hartcombe. Apart from her initial gasp of delight when she had opened the little box and seen the ring his father had given her, Elyse had maintained an attitude of stony indifference towards Drew and he had made no attempt to coax her out of it. She was betrothed to William Reverson, he had no right to come between them. His body burned with desire to sweep her into a fierce embrace, to break down the barriers she had put up between them and awaken the passion he knew she possessed, but that would only be a further betrayal of the trust Harry had laid upon him. And even if he seduced her, would she ever forgive him for his past cruelty towards her?

Perhaps, if she loved him. His father seemed to think she did but how long would that love last? He might persuade her to become his wife, but what then? What would she think of him when the passion was spent and she found herself chained to a man of moderate means, heir to a struggling estate, when she could have been allied to one of the most illustrious families in the land? Then all the old hurt and injustice would be remembered, love would be replaced by bitter regrets that would last a lifetime.

No, better that she should think him a rake than he should ever see that disappointment in her eyes.



His niggling fear that Lord Whittlewood might not be at home was soon banished. The family, they were informed by a wooden-faced lackey, was in the drawing room. They were shown to an impressive chamber on the first floor where upwards of a dozen people were gathered and engaged in noisy conversation.

Good God, thought Drew as he followed Elyse through the door, this is not merely family, they are entertaining.

A hush fell over the room as they were announced. All eyes turned towards them and Drew thought how shabby they must appear in their travelling clothes. He sensed rather than saw Elyse hesitate and immediately stepped up beside her, placing his hand under her elbow in a gesture of support. At least there would be witnesses that he had delivered Miss Salforde on time.

An elderly man in a powdered wig came towards them, limping slightly and leaning on an ebony stick. A quantity of snowy lace at his throat and wrists adorned his suit of burgundy cut velvet. The viscount, Drew guessed. He bowed.

‘Lord Whittlewood, your servant, sir. I have brought Miss Salforde to you, before the end of Michaelmas Day, as agreed.’

‘Indeed.’ The viscount returned his bow. ‘I had begun to give up hope. My secretary lost track of you after you left Marlborough.’

‘You did not think to send out a search party to find us?’ asked Drew.

‘I did not. We thought it most likely you had taken Miss Salforde back to the north country.’

Drew’s anger rose at his indifferent tone but before he could speak again Elyse addressed the viscount.

‘I hope Mr Settle is recovered? He was very poorly and we were obliged to go on without him.’

‘He is, quite recovered I believe, and will be relieved to know you are safe.’

‘He has reached Bath, then?’ asked Elyse.

Lord Whittlewood bowed again. ‘He reached us a week since.’

‘Then he was more fortunate than we were,’ said Drew. ‘We had the misfortune to be waylaid on the road. The villains made off with the coach and all our baggage and left me with a bullet in my arm.’

There was a general muttering and expressions of outrage from the gathered assembly, one gentleman in a full-bottomed wig exclaiming, ‘Good heavens, did you not have outriders, sir?’

‘We were travelling as the viscount’s guests,’ Drew responded, watching the viscount carefully. His surprise and displeasure looked genuine enough.

‘That was certainly an error, and one I shall investigate,’ said his lordship, frowning. ‘May I ask when this attack occurred?’

‘On the twenty-first,’ said Elyse. ‘We took refuge at—at a gentleman’s house until Mr Bastion was well enough to travel again.’

The viscount’s cool gaze gave nothing away when he turned to Drew again.

‘And you have managed to keep our agreement and bring my son’s future wife to him, sir. I congratulate you. I know William will want to thank you himself.’

Lord Whittlewood raised one white hand and beckoned towards the throng gathered behind him. A young man stepped out of the crowd and Drew’s stomach lurched with sudden disappointment. No wonder Elyse thought herself in love. The fellow had the classical beauty and bearing of a Greek god.



Elyse had been unable to see William, who now emerged from the far corner of the room. As she watched him approach she could not suppress her smile of delight. He was every bit as handsome as she remembered, the elegantly styled wig, his wide brow and soft brown eyes, the classical nose and sculpted lips—if anything he look more handsome than when they had last met three years ago. He came towards her with the same boyish smile that had charmed her from the start.

‘Miss Salforde. Elyse.’ He kissed her fingers. ‘You are even more beautiful than I remember. How can I have kept away from you for so long?’

She was silent, surprised that she wanted to say tartly, Yes, why did you do so?

‘When you did not arrive I thought you had changed your mind about marrying me,’ he continued, gazing into her eyes. ‘I was desolé.’