Then he recalled something she’d said, something about being beaten by her master if he deprived her of her winnings. Had the gypsy leader been ready to turn the visitors out of camp, or had he thrown them out because of Gilen’s rash action? If the latter, would the loss of revenue that might have been earned during the remainder of the evening be blamed on the girl?
Remorse with an uneasy layer of worry stabbed at him. What if the leader chastised an innocent maid for his transgression? Although he could not imagine ever striking a woman, apparently beating was not an uncommon punishment among the gypsy clan. And if that slender wisp of a girl were punished, it would be his fault.
The very thought of it made him ill.
He sat straight up in bed, but a moment’s reflection was enough for him to realize he could do nothing further tonight. Tomorrow at first light, however, he would ride to the gypsy encampment to offer more gold, and his formal apologies.
Having made that resolve, he still found sleep elusive. What slumber he managed was disturbed alternately by heated dreams of a dark-haired vixen writhing under him and horrific images of her writhing under the lash. He awoke early and unrefreshed, his mind seized by a combination of eagerness and anxiety.
Gilen made short work of shaving and dressing, and after tossing down a mug of ale brought by his astonished valet, headed for the stable. The sleepy-eyed groom who wandered out goggled at him as he saddled Raven.
The stallion was happy enough to set off at a run. Gilen’s spirits rose too, the exhilaration of a gallop heightening his anticipation.
Slowing the stallion as he rounded the last bend, Gilen rode into the clearing where the gypsy lads had corralled the horses and reined in, looking toward the river.
Where a semicircle of wagons had stood last night, a blazing fire at their center, there now remained only a pile of barely smoking embers. Consternation slammed him in the chest.
During the night as he slept, dreaming of a violet-eyed vixen, the gypsy band had departed.
Chapter Four
Next day, dressed in their own clothes and delivered by Davi to the edge of town at about the hour the mail coach would be arriving, Gwennor and Parry found a hackney to take them to the home of her stepmother’s aunt, Lady Alice. After identifying themselves to her butler Mercer, they were led to a small back parlor to await the pleasure of their aunt, who, the butler frostily informed them, obviously skeptical of their unannounced arrival and suspicious lack of either baggage or retainers, had not yet left her chamber.
Although it had been more than ten years since Gwen had visited Harrogate, apparently Lady Alice’s cook remembered her, for a short time later, the butler returned bearing a heavily laden tray, his manner now all gracious condescension. “Forgive me for not immediately recalling you, Miss Southford!” he said as he hastened to pour them tea. “I did not recognize in your elegant self the child who came with her lady mother. Cook reminded me, and also remembered you were particularly fond of her jam tarts. Allow me to offer you some fresh from the oven.”
Knowing her aunt was not an early riser, Gwen feared they might spend most of the morning waiting in the parlor. However, the news that their mistress’s niece from distant Wales had turned up unexpectedly on their doorstep must have inspired her aunt’s no-doubt curious staff to risk rousing their mistress, for little more than an hour after they’d finished their refreshments, Mercer returned to escort them into their aunt’s presence.
Doubt nibbled at Gwen’s certainty and she found herself holding her breath as they entered Lady Alice’s sitting room. If her assumptions were incorrect and that lady refused to shelter them, their situation would become difficult indeed, for she could not hope to attract a respectable suitor without a genteel sponsor, and her limited funds would not be sufficient to support them for more than a few months at most.
Though the lady reclining on the brocade sofa, her elegant morning gown draped with a fine shawl, was plumper and the lines about her bright blue eyes more pronounced than Gwen remembered, the warm smile and the delighted tone of her voice were as welcoming as Gwen had hoped.
“My dearest Gwennor!” Lady Alice cried. “A delightful surprise! And Parry here, too!” She held out her hands. “Come now, don’t be shy. When last you were here, you embraced me readily enough!”
A little dizzy with relief, Gwen urged Parry forward. After fond hugs all around, Lady Alice motioned them to adjoining chairs. “Now sit and tell me all your news!”
“I’m sorry we did not send a note, Aunt Alice,” Gwen said, taking the chair indicted. “Our departure came about…rather abruptly.”
“With Nigel Hartwell taking over Southford, I don’t wonder at it,” Lady Alice said with a sniff. “Detestable man! Oh, but you must forgive me—I’ve yet not expressed my regrets about your recent loss. Oh, Gwen, I am sorry! I know how close you were to your papa.”
Lady Alice leaned over to squeeze her hand. Gwen returned the pressure, her throat tight. “Thank you.”
“So, did Nigel send you to me for the Season? Of course he must have! He ought to have dispatched you to London, but that odious nipcheese doubtless believes it will be cheaper to maintain you here. Though our small assemblies cannot claim nearly the quantity of elevated society to be found in the capital, I staunchly maintain the quality of our residents compares quite favorably to the city! Still, were my own resources not so limited I should insist we relocate to London. That is, now that your dear papa is no longer here to protect you, I expect you are looking for a husband, aren’t you? Ah, but whatever the reason, I am ecstatic to have you here—and Parry too, of course, dear boy! I was telling my friend Colonel Haversham just the other day how bored and lonely I’d been of late, and now—here you are!”
While her aunt rattled on, Gwen considered how much of their circumstances she need convey to Lady Alice. A discreetly edited account which warned of her cousin’s possible ire but omitted their exact means of transport would be best, she decided.
So when her aunt paused for breath, Gwen said, “Although you are correct in assuming cousin Nigel wished to be speedily rid of me, aunt, h-he didn’t precisely send us. In fact, he was planning to marry me off to Baron Edgerton at Southford within the week.”
“So soon after your beloved father’s demise—and without even allowing you time to purchase bride clothes?” her aunt replied, clearly appalled. “And Edgerton! Why, he must be twice your age or more, and not at all a stylish gentleman. Indeed, I understand he never leaves hunt country. Definitely not the proper sort of husband for a lovely young lady! I’ve always thought Nigel an unfeeling monster, and so I told your dear stepmama times out of mind!”
Gwen smiled. “As my opinion of him matches yours, Parry and I decided rather hastily to…depart. To put it quite bluntly, we ran away! I expect Nigel is quite angry with me for flouting his authority. Although I’m of age and he has no legal power over me, he might be incensed enough to pursue us and try to order me back home. So…if you would rather not become involved, I will understand.”
“Fetch you back?” Lady Alice said a little nervously. “Do you believe he will?”
“I trust that once his anger cools, the distance and expense of coming after me will convince him to leave me in your care instead.”
“Doubtless you are right,” Lady Alice returned, her sunny good humor restored. “’Twould be the most sensible thing to do. In any event, I hope I am not such a pudding-heart as to send you back to that unfeeling wretch. Of course you may stay, as long as you like!”
Gwen leaned over to give Lady Alice a hug. “Thank you, dear, brave Aunt Alice!”
“Doubtless I understand better than Nigel the duty I owe a kinswoman. Edgerton indeed!” Lady Alice repeated with a shudder. “Even in Harrogate, I should be able to contrive better for you than him.”
“Such is certainly my hope! But I did bring funds of my own,