Page 22 of Notorious

Chapter 6

Drusilla discovered that escaping her Aunt Violet—whose health had rallied at the prospect of a wedding, no matter how rushed—her prospective mother-in-law, and Eva was more difficult than escaping Coldbath Fields Prison.

But it was imperative that she get away. The twice-monthly meetings of her charitable group—the Society for the Practical Application of Wollstonecraftian Ideals—were often the highlights of her week, and she hated to miss one. Besides, she needed to tell her small group that she would be the first of their number to violate their own principles and enter the married state. And then she would need to tell them that she’d be leaving town after the Season, something she’d not done since settling into the London house after finishing school.

Drusilla squirmed to think of her friends’ reactions. She’d formed this group almost three years ago, its membership comprising only seven people including her—four women and three men, all of them except one from the merchant class. The last member to join—barely half a year ago—had been a young man from the aristocracy, although only the youngest son of a baronet. Still, it gave them all hope that if one man from the ruling class could see the merit in Wollstonecraft’s writings, there would be others.

As Drusilla hurried along the damp sidewalk, her maid struggling to keep pace, she reminded herself, yet again, that she would be married tomorrow—that she would be Mrs. Gabriel Marlington. She had reminded herself of that fact at least once every five minutes since his proposal, and it still had not stuck.

And then she had needed to remind herself that the morning after her marriage, she might very well be a widow.

Drusilla groaned at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Miss Dru?” Fletcher asked breathlessly, trotting along beside her. “Did you say something?”

“I will want you to wait for me in Hatchards, just as usual.”

Her maid’s silence was most speaking.

“It will only be an hour, Fletcher. There will be plenty of time to get back to the w-wedding preparations.” Even speaking the word was difficult—what would being married to him be like? What would the wedding night be like . . .? She slammed the door shut against that thought: it would come soon enough.

“But Miss Dru, it is only tomorrow and—”

“Fletcher.”

The older woman heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Very well, miss.”

Good. So that was done.

Drusilla dreaded the discussion she was to have with her small group—especially Theo. Although it had never been spoken of openly, it was understood their membership would live up to the beliefs set out in Miss Wollstonecraft’s writings and they would eschew marriage. And now she was the first of their number to break that vow. She was, in other words, a hypocrite. No matter how often she told herself she was being forced to marry, her heart sang at the notion of becoming Gabriel Marlington’s wife.

You are getting exactly what you have yearned for, a smug little voice inside her said, bringing with it a vivid image of the man she would be marrying.

She was abandoning her principles with hardly a backward glance.

Drusilla flushed at the undeniable truth as Gabriel Marlington’s fierce features and powerful, muscular body flashed through her mind, the image making her female parts behave in a most distracting manner. It would hardly do to become so bothered—so physically stimulated—at even thinking the man’s name. Not that the sensation was anything new. She’d been a quivering lump of fool for him since she’d first laid eyes on him. She recalled the day with crystal clarity.

She’d been visiting Exley Castle for the first time. Her aunt had been over the moon that she’d been invited to the country home of a marquess. Gabriel had been down from college with his idiot friend, Lord Byer, the oldest student in the history of Oxford. Or so Drusilla had heard.

Eva and Drusilla had been out riding—her friend was a far better equestrienne than Drusilla would ever be—when they’d come upon two horses, bridleless and cropping grass.

“That is my brother’s horse—the other is Byer’s.” Eva had sprung from the saddle before Drusilla could even comment. “And look—” She held up what was indisputably a pair of breeches and grinned. “Let’s take their clothing.”

“What?” Drusilla had shrieked.

“They’re swimming, although it looks like only one pair of breeches are here. I’ll sneak down to the pond and grab the other pair. If we take their clothing, they’ll have to walk home naked. Or . . .” She chuckled evilly. “Would they ride home in the—”

“Yes, yes,” Drusilla had said, not wishing to hear any more about her friend’s brother in an unclothed state.

But Eva had already disappeared through a gap in the trees.

“Eva? Eva?” There was no response. Drusilla had walked her mount back and forth, unwilling to dismount because there were no nearby rocks or fallen logs to serve that purpose. That was all she needed, to be caught without her horse when—

“Eva!”

An answering laugh came through the trees a second before Eva burst through the foliage and tossed an armload of clothing at Drusilla, startling both her and her horse.

“Run, Dru! Run! They’re right behind me.” She’d already caught up her horse’s reins and was trotting toward the trail as quickly as the heavy skirt of her habit would allow.