Page 33 of An Inconvenient Vow

Sabina made a stifled noise and Jeffree turned his head to look at her sharply. Her expression was perfectly composed, but he was not fooled. She had sniffed. He drew back his chair. “Perhaps we ought to withdraw—”

“Jeffree, my boy,” Sir Charles interrupted. “Could I have a word? Privately,” he stressed, his gaze once more flickering over the three of them sat before the fire.

Jeffree cleared his throat and stood up. “Of course.”

Together they walked to the opposite end of the hall before the older man spoke. “I cannot find any trace of where Leland can have got to,” Sir Charles said bluntly. “I’ve not heard so much as a word from him.”

Jeffree glanced at his godfather and noted how haggard he was looking. Always a rather colorless man, today he looked almost gray. “Likely he has ridden into the next shire,” he pointed out. “His friend Mallenby’s estate lies across the border in Halfordshire.”

A hopeful look filled Sir Charles’s eye, and Jeffree marveled that he could be so concerned about his son, who had long since reached his majority. Then too, Leland had always been something of a liability. “You really think that he might have made in that direction?” Sir Charles said, perking up visibly.

“More than likely,” Jeffree replied off-hand. He was damned if he was going to worry his head over Leland. “He and Mallenby were thick as thieves six months ago when that business went down with Warrington.”

Sir Charles winced. Warrington had been another of Leland’s wild friends. Six months ago, he had eloped with another man’s wife and then wound-up perishing ignobly on the sword of her outraged spouse. “Leland had nothing to do with that,” his godfather pointed out, two spots of color appearing on his gaunt cheeks.

“Aye, I know,” said Jeffree dryly. “Mallenby testified that he and Leland were gambling till dawn and knew naught of Warrington’s plans after he left them at midnight.” Still, knowing what a loose-tongued braggart Warrington was, Jeffree found it hard to believe he had not told his friends what he intended. Knowing both individuals involved, Jeffree did not believe they would have even attempted to dissuade him from such a disastrous course of action.

Sir Charles avoided his eye and bit the inside of his cheek. “Halfordshire,” he muttered. “’Tis some thirty miles from here, should you say?”

Jeffree nodded, narrowing his gaze. “You will not set off on some goose chase, surely? If you are uneasy in your mind, why not write to Leland, care of Mallenby?”

Sir Charles tipped his head, appearing to consider the suggestion. “I should not feel easy in my mind, abandoning you here in your own predicament, my boy,” his godfather hedged. “I need hardly say how shocked and appalled I am by all that has transpired. That you have been forced to take such a step deeply grieves me. That my own son should have been instrumental in your misfortune is deeply regrettable to me.”

“What are you talking about?” Jeffree interrupted him.

“Your enforced marriage,” his godfather answered forthrightly. “What else?”

Jeffree waved a hand. “What is done is done.”

Sir Charles blinked. “You are too fatalistic, Jeffree. It may be that you could be freed from this yoke, even at this late point. We must put our heads together and determine your best course of action.”

Jeffree regarded him blankly. “Your pardon, Sir Charles, but we have not done such a thing since I passed boyhood. Besides,” he added briskly. “I know how I am fixed for the next few weeks. I begin my training for the Royal Summer Tournament on the morrow. Part of that preparation will be attending Areley Kings in a weeks’ time.”

“And—er—what then, of Mistress Hendry?” his godfather asked with a frown.

Jeffree drew himself up. “That is not her name,” he retorted loudly.

His godfather looked startled. “Jeffree, my boy, none could blame you for the action you took, not under such extenuating circumstances. It was naught but a matter of expedience. Now that the moment of crisis has passed, cooler heads can prevail. With your connections at court, an annulment would certainly not be out of the question.”

When Jeffree did not speak at once, a look of dawning horror spread across Sir Charles’s face. “You have not consummated—! No, I will not believe it! You cannot have been so rash!” He shook his head disbelievingly. “Nay Jeffree I cannot believe you have fallen for such a trap and tied yourself to such a woman.”

“That is enough!” Jeffree glanced away, his face reddening.

Sir Charles looked shocked. “I credited you with better sense,” he said bitterly, “and more worldly wisdom. First Bevis, now you! Oh, these Burrell women are formidable indeed!” Jeffree pressed his lips together. “You judge Leland harshly, yet where you find it convenient you let others off the hook!” Sir Charles railed angrily.

“How else am I to judge Leland’s behavior?” Jeffree demanded, firing up at once. “His behavior was execrable!”

“He was trying to help you!”

“Help me?” Jeffree repeated incredulously. “Help me?”

“By preserving your inheritance!” Sir Charles said with dignity. “Ganford Chase, the title of Duke of Bethencourt, both are rightfully yours!”

“He grossly slandered my name! Not to mention his attempt to destroy the reputation of a blameless young woman!”

Sir Charles’s face froze. “As to that, none of us know that young woman’s true character,” he said stiffly. “Her family threw her in the way of Bethencourt in the hopes of snaring a rich and titled husband.”

“That is not a crime,” Jeffree pointed out dryly. “None of us know any ill of Mistress Isemay, including Leland.”