Part 10 (2/2)

'Thank goodness for that, because I do not think my breakfast is going to stay down any longer.' Phyllida clamped a handkerchief over her mouth. As the chaise clattered to a halt in the inn yard she opened the door and stumbled down, clutching the high wheel for support.

'What is wrong?' She had not even seen Ashe, but he was there at her side, his hands supporting her.

'Bad fish,' Anna said. 'She's going to be sick any moment, my lord.'

'Hang on.' Ashe bent and scooped her up in his arms, strode into the inn and snapped, 'A room, hot water, a basin.'

'Please... I can manage...' She glanced around as best she could over the lace of her handkerchief. This was a large, smart inn, obviously one catering to the carriage trade, not some shabby little place where she could be ill in dingy privacy.

'In here, sir. Oh poor dear. Increasing, is she?' A woman's voice... a stranger. She was settled in a chair, hands-Ashe's-pressed a bowl onto her lap. Somehow her bonnet had gone and so had her pelisse.

Phyllida retched miserably, someone held her shoulders, a damp cloth smelling of lavender was put into her hand as the bowl was removed. She leaned into the supporting arm and smelled sandalwood beneath the lavender.

'Here's a little peppermint cordial. That'll settle you nicely, my lady.'

Hazily Phyllida realised that Ashe must have made his t.i.tle known to secure prompt service and the woman attending her though she was his wife. And pregnant.

She sipped the cordial and swayed as the room lurched around her. This was ridiculous. She would not faint, she was made of sterner stuff than that.

'She is going to faint.' Ashe's voice came from a long way away. 'I had better put her on the bed.'

If she did lose consciousness it could only have been for a moment. Phyllida found herself propped up against pillows and lying on a vast patchwork quilt. 'I am sorry,' she managed.

'Don't you worry, my lady,' the other woman's comforting voice said from the doorway. 'I'll just pop down and get you a hot brick.'

'Where's Anna?' Phyllida asked, scrabbling ineffectually at her bodice. Her stays were like a vice, stopping her breathing.

'She's gone to find an apothecary for what she swears is an infallible potion to stop the nausea. What is the matter? Stays?' Ashe enquired. 'I can't say I've much experience with the things, Indian women have more sense than to wear them, but let's see what I can do.'

With a gasp Phyllida found herself tipped forwards against Ashe's broad shoulder while his fingers dealt efficiently with the b.u.t.tons at the back of her gown and then the laces of her corset. 'Oh! Ashe, really you cannot-'

'I can,' he said. 'Thought I might have to cut them, but it was a nice easy bow. Now then, how are we going to do this?' He slid her dress off one shoulder, still holding her up from the pillows. 'Then this one...' The corset came away and she took a deep breath. 'There, is that better?'

'Lord Clere and his wife, you say? And the poor lady is sick? I must see what aid I can give. In here where the door is open?' A penetrating female voice, a rustle of skirts and Phyllida opened her eyes to see Lady Castlebridge, an earl's wife with the longest tongue in society, standing just inside the door, her expression avid with curiosity. 'Miss Hurst!'

Phyllida laid her forehead on Ashe's shoulder with a faint moan and the impossible hope that she could conceal just how much of her bosom and arms were laid bare. This was utter disaster and she could not think of a thing to do to rescue the situation unless the earth opened and swallowed her up.

'Madam?' Ashe laid her unresisting against the pillows and flipped the counterpane over her. 'I do not believe we have been introduced or you would know I am not married.'

'Well, everyone knows who you are, Lord Clere!' The delight of discovering a scandal right in front of her nose was all too apparent. 'And we had heard nothing of a wife, which is why it is such a surprise to find Miss Hurst with you and enceinte, poor dear.' The skirts rustled in to the room and the door clicked shut. 'I am Lady Castlebridge. Naturally, you may rely on my total discretion.'

'Far from being in an interesting condition, Miss Hurst is suffering from food poisoning and was taken ill on the road. We are the merest acquaintances, but naturally I could not leave the lady in distress when she fainted at my feet.' Ashe sounded aloof and faintly puzzled, as though he could not quite believe the intrusion. 'You are a close family friend, it seems. Perhaps you could hold the bowl for Miss Hurst when she vomits again while I go and find out what has happened to her maid?'

Despite everything Phyllida felt a faint flicker of amus.e.m.e.nt at the sounds of her ladys.h.i.+p's hasty retreat.

'Not that good a friend. I am certain Miss Hurst will want her maid to attend her. Er... perhaps I could find her.'

'Excuse me, madam.' Blessedly, Anna's voice, so polite it verged on insolence. 'Thank you, my lord, I can manage now.'

The door closed. After a moment Anna said, 'They've both gone, Miss Phyllida. He looked fit to strangle the nosy old besom, his lords.h.i.+p did. How are you feeling?'

'Dreadful.' She sat up and opened her eyes. Her stays were draped over the footboard of the bed, presumably where Ashe had tossed them. Her gown was round her waist and only her chemise gave any vestige of decency.

'Who took your stays off?'

'His lords.h.i.+p.'

'Oh, lumme.'

'Exactly.'

'And old sharpnose saw? Here, drink this, Miss Phyllida. I ran down the street to the apothecary.'

'She not only saw me on the bed, in Lord Clere's arms in my s.h.i.+ft, she also heard the landlady's opinion that I am suffering from morning sickness.' Phyllida sipped the hot brew and felt it settle soothingly in her abused stomach. 'I rather think I am ruined, Anna.'

'Surely not? You'll be out and about in town tomorrow quite obviously not with child,' the maid protested.

'That is not the point. I am supposed to be staying with friends in Ess.e.x. How am I going to account for being in bed in a Hertfords.h.i.+re inn on such terms with Lord Clere that he removes my underwear in a crisis? I will wager fifty guineas she has already discovered that we arrived together, even if he was not in the chaise.' She threw back the cover and got up. 'The smoke is all it takes, Anna. There doesn't have to be any fire, not when one's position is as ambivalent as mine is.'

This is a complete disaster, she thought as Anna did up her gown, bundled the corset under her own cloak and found Phyllida's bonnet and pelisse. Then another thought hit her: Gregory. 'Oh, my Lord.' She sat down on the edge of the bed. 'What is Mr Millington going to say when he hears? He'll never allow Harriet to marry my brother after this. We must get back to London as soon as possible. I must speak to Gregory, find some way of persuading Mr Millington that this will not come to reflect on his daughter.'

'Miss Phyllida!' Anna followed her down the stairs. 'You need to rest.'

'I can rest in the post chaise.' She gathered all her strength and swept into the hallway, praying that her shaky legs would continue to hold her up. 'Good morning, Lord Clere.' She stopped and bobbed a curtsy. 'Thank you for your a.s.sistance, but as you see, I am able to resume my journey. Lady Castlebridge! It is quite all right, there is no need to stand back in the shadows, I am not suffering from anything contagious, merely the effects of some bad fish last night. I will see you at the Fosters' musicale, I am sure.'

She made it to the sanctuary of the chaise before either could say a word. Anna called to the postilions to make a start and they rattled out of the yard and turned towards London and disgrace.

Chapter Thirteen.

Ashe found his father and Edwards, his secretary, in the study dealing with a pile of correspondence.

'You have made good time.' The marquess's smile faded as he took in Ashe's expression.

'Sir. Excuse the intrusion, but I need Mr Edwards's advice. What are the laws concerning marriage in England?'

His father went very still, then set down the pen he was holding. The secretary pushed his spectacles firmly on to his nose and cleared his throat, his face entirely blank of expression. 'Banns of marriage must be called in the parishes of both bride and groom over three weeks. This may be avoided, and often is by the Quality, by the provision of a common licence from a bishop. For marriages at very short notice a special licence from the archbishop is required, which in London will involve a personal visit to Doctors' Commons and a not inconsiderable fee.' He glanced at the clock. 'If one is needed, I fear it must now wait until the morrow.'

'Thank you, Mr Edwards, that is very clear. I was not contemplating matrimony within the week.' Ashe moved to the empty fireplace and rested one foot on the fender. 'Would you excuse us for a moment?'

When they were alone he said, without preamble, 'I have compromised Miss Hurst and therefore I regret that I must marry her.'

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