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Authors: Marilyn Clay
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faster that way."
A pregnant pause ensued as Chelsea felt both the gentleman and his mother watching her intently. "I . . . no longer ride," she said quietly.
Rutherford's brows pulled together. "No longer ride! Why I can hardly fathom the like, Alayna!"
"It is astonishing, isn't it," put in Lady Rathbone.
Chelsea offered nothing farther on the subject, though she did consider fabricating something about an accident in Town that might have caused Alayna to change face on that score. But she just as quickly dismissed the notion. Maintaining one lie was exhausting enough.
"Well," Rutherford said at length, pushing up from the table. "All's well that ends well, I expect. To say truth, it was the Marchmont crest on the coach door that alerted me to your whereabouts. Both a stablehand and an innkeep remarked upon the handsome equipage and the fact that a lone young lady was ensconced inside."
Chelsea seized the moment. "Actually that was my plan all along! I am pleased that it worked so well, aren't you, Rutherford?"
The gentlemen flung her a look, but said nothing. Just as he was approaching the archway leading to the hall, he was intercepted by Jared, who had come to announce that a gentleman was awaiting reception in the withdrawing room.
"Ah, I expect it is the magistrate from Chester," Lord Rathbone exclaimed. "No doubt, he has put Sully behind bars and is calling to inquire further about the incident." He directed another gaze at Chelsea. "When you have finished your meal, Alayna, I expect Mr. Wainwright will want to question you, as well."
Chelsea's heart plummeted to her feet. What must she endure now? What if the magistrate had brought the stolen portrait of Alayna with him? Would Lord Rathbone insist she be put behind bars as well? Oh! This day was fast becoming as horrid as the previous one had been!
Chapter Five
“Everything Has Gone Vastly Awry”
M oments later, when Chelsea pushed Lady Rathbone's chair into the drawing room, she was vastly relieved to find not the authorities as she'd feared, but the familiar figure of the vicar, Mr. Stevens, whom she had met the day the banns were read in church. He and Lord Rathbone were greeting one another cordially.
"Indeed a pleasure to find you here, your lordship!" the vicar enthused. Hearing the squeak of Lady Rathbone's chair, he turned and proceeded across the cavernous room toward the ladies. "My stars! Is it Lady Rathbone herself? I admit, I had heard you were venturing down stairs these days, my lady, but I had to see it with me own eyes to believe it! God be praised!"
Lord Rathbone wore a puzzled look as he advanced. "Have you been unwell, Mother?"
"Merciful heavens, no!" the older woman sputtered. "Just saw no reason to leave my chamber, until . . ." She turned a warm smile on Chelsea. "My niece arrived from London. Alayna's presence has lifted everyone's spirits."
Chelsea coloured deeply, due in part to the fact that everyone's attention was now fixed on her, more for being obliged to, once again, deceive a man of God.
"I see," Lord Rathbone muttered, still gazing at Chelsea.
"Indeed, it is true," the vicar responded heartily. "Miss Marchmont is a charming young lady. More than one of my parishioners remarked upon her beauty following services on Sunday last. Word is Miss Marchmont has completely transformed the castle."
Again, all eyes focused on Chelsea. She ducked her head. "You are being too kind, I'm sure, Mr. Stevens."
"On the contrary," the round-faced man glanced about the room, "appears quite cheerful in here to me. Why, to find the drawing room open and her ladyship receiving is a miracle in itself!"
Lord Rathbone's brows pulled together. "Are you quite certain you have not been unwell, Mother?"
"Do sit down, Mr. Stevens," Lady Rathbone said, indicating with a hand to Chelsea that she'd like her wheelchair moved closer to the fire. "We've such a lot to discuss now that there's to be a wedding in the chapel."
"Are you certain you feel
A pregnant pause ensued as Chelsea felt both the gentleman and his mother watching her intently. "I . . . no longer ride," she said quietly.
Rutherford's brows pulled together. "No longer ride! Why I can hardly fathom the like, Alayna!"
"It is astonishing, isn't it," put in Lady Rathbone.
Chelsea offered nothing farther on the subject, though she did consider fabricating something about an accident in Town that might have caused Alayna to change face on that score. But she just as quickly dismissed the notion. Maintaining one lie was exhausting enough.
"Well," Rutherford said at length, pushing up from the table. "All's well that ends well, I expect. To say truth, it was the Marchmont crest on the coach door that alerted me to your whereabouts. Both a stablehand and an innkeep remarked upon the handsome equipage and the fact that a lone young lady was ensconced inside."
Chelsea seized the moment. "Actually that was my plan all along! I am pleased that it worked so well, aren't you, Rutherford?"
The gentlemen flung her a look, but said nothing. Just as he was approaching the archway leading to the hall, he was intercepted by Jared, who had come to announce that a gentleman was awaiting reception in the withdrawing room.
"Ah, I expect it is the magistrate from Chester," Lord Rathbone exclaimed. "No doubt, he has put Sully behind bars and is calling to inquire further about the incident." He directed another gaze at Chelsea. "When you have finished your meal, Alayna, I expect Mr. Wainwright will want to question you, as well."
Chelsea's heart plummeted to her feet. What must she endure now? What if the magistrate had brought the stolen portrait of Alayna with him? Would Lord Rathbone insist she be put behind bars as well? Oh! This day was fast becoming as horrid as the previous one had been!
Chapter Five
“Everything Has Gone Vastly Awry”
M oments later, when Chelsea pushed Lady Rathbone's chair into the drawing room, she was vastly relieved to find not the authorities as she'd feared, but the familiar figure of the vicar, Mr. Stevens, whom she had met the day the banns were read in church. He and Lord Rathbone were greeting one another cordially.
"Indeed a pleasure to find you here, your lordship!" the vicar enthused. Hearing the squeak of Lady Rathbone's chair, he turned and proceeded across the cavernous room toward the ladies. "My stars! Is it Lady Rathbone herself? I admit, I had heard you were venturing down stairs these days, my lady, but I had to see it with me own eyes to believe it! God be praised!"
Lord Rathbone wore a puzzled look as he advanced. "Have you been unwell, Mother?"
"Merciful heavens, no!" the older woman sputtered. "Just saw no reason to leave my chamber, until . . ." She turned a warm smile on Chelsea. "My niece arrived from London. Alayna's presence has lifted everyone's spirits."
Chelsea coloured deeply, due in part to the fact that everyone's attention was now fixed on her, more for being obliged to, once again, deceive a man of God.
"I see," Lord Rathbone muttered, still gazing at Chelsea.
"Indeed, it is true," the vicar responded heartily. "Miss Marchmont is a charming young lady. More than one of my parishioners remarked upon her beauty following services on Sunday last. Word is Miss Marchmont has completely transformed the castle."
Again, all eyes focused on Chelsea. She ducked her head. "You are being too kind, I'm sure, Mr. Stevens."
"On the contrary," the round-faced man glanced about the room, "appears quite cheerful in here to me. Why, to find the drawing room open and her ladyship receiving is a miracle in itself!"
Lord Rathbone's brows pulled together. "Are you quite certain you have not been unwell, Mother?"
"Do sit down, Mr. Stevens," Lady Rathbone said, indicating with a hand to Chelsea that she'd like her wheelchair moved closer to the fire. "We've such a lot to discuss now that there's to be a wedding in the chapel."
"Are you certain you feel
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