Page 53 of Marry in Secret
“The bank manager agreed to advance me some money, so I’m in funds again, at least.”
“Good work. How d’you get on at th’Admiralty?”
“It’s hopeless. I practically battered down every door there; none of the bastards is the slightest bit interested.” He was going to have to find the money elsewhere.
A sly little voice in his head kept reminding him that while his marriage remained unannulled, he was, legally, entitled to full control of Rose’s entire fortune. But he’d wrecked her life enough; he wasn’t going to rob her as well. There had to be another way.
“Good thing you decided to be sens’ble then,” Ollie said drowsily.
Thomas thought for a minute but couldn’t make sense of his friend’s words. “In what way sensible?”
“Staying married to your heiress.”
“But I’m not. Her family want better for her than I can provide and I agree. I’ve advised her to agree to an annulment.”
Ollie heaved himself up sufficiently to turn his head. “Then why are they holding a ball for you?”
“A ball? What the devil are you talking about?”
“The Ruth’fords are holding a ball th’week after next to introduce you to the ton. Cel’brate your return from the dead or some such thing.”
Thomas had never heard anything so ridiculous. “You’re foxed.”
“Got invited to it myself. ’S up there.” Ollie gestured vaguely to the mantelpiece. He peered blearily at Thomas. “What? Di’n’t you get an invitation? Poor Thomas, left out of his own ball.” He sank back into his chair, chuckling.
Thomas found the invitation on the mantelpiece. He opened it and read it swiftly. Sure enough it invited Ollie to attend a ball at Ashendon House in a fortnight’s time, to celebrate the return of Lady Rose Rutherford’s long-lost husband, Commander Beresford, late of His Majesty’s Royal Navy.
He stared at it, turned it over, read it again. It had to be a hoax.
“Did you write this? Is it your idea of a joke?”
Ollie snorted. “Zif I’d joke about such a thing. No, looks to me like the girl’s d’termined to have you after all, and has talked the family around. So, old friend, all your troubles are over. Lovely girl, rich wife, aaaall settled. Except—oh, no!” He sat up, suddenly serious.
Thomas blinked at his friend’s sudden urgency. “What?”
“You don’t have a thing to wear! I’ll introduce you to m’tailor first thing in the morning.”
“Not first thing.”
Ollie regarded him with owlish surprise. “Why? What could be more important than ordering your clothes for the ball?”
“A ride in the park.” Thomas tapped the invitation thoughtfully. He’d given her fair warning—more than fair; he’d told her repeatedly—but she’d gone ahead regardless and declared her marriage to the whole world.
Be it on her own head. She was stuck with him now.
***
Thomas rented a hack, a bay gelding who wove through the morning London traffic without turning a hair at dogs or barrow-boys, wagons or anything else.
He arrived at Ashendon House just before seven o’clock, just as several grooms trotted up, leading a string of thoroughbreds. Whatever else he was, Ashendon was a good judge of horseflesh.
The front door opened and the Rutherford ladies, dressed in stylish habits, hurried down the steps. “Thomas! You’re joining us! I’m so glad,” Rose exclaimed.
He greeted her family members and was rewarded by a warm response from her sister and niece and the big gangly hound, a brusque nod from Ashendon and a slightly less stiff one from Galbraith.
The gentlemen tossed the ladies into their sidesaddles. Thomas was surprised to see Lady George mounted on a spirited black stallion that looked far too strong for her. He danced and shied and caracoled, but she only laughed at his antics, seeming quite unworried. All the Rutherford ladies, it seemed, were at home in the saddle.
The small cavalcade set out, two by two, Lady Lily with Lady George, the hound at her heel, followed by Rose and Thomas, then Ashendon and Galbraith. A dour-looking Scottish groom came up in the rear.
