Page 77 of A Date with Dishonor

‘There is a goldsmith in St Albans,’ Colin offered helpfully. ‘But I’m not sure if he has ready stock.’

‘I know of a fine craftsman in Enfield who keeps a good selection of pieces of jewellery. It is a bit of a trek, but I should be back by nightfall.’

* * *

‘Are you sure we will be welcome, Dolly?’

Edith Vickers leaned forwards to converse with her travelling companion as the vehicle bumped over a rut. A buxom matron seated beside her with a child on her lap used the opportunity to elbow some more room on the cramped seat of the mail coach.

‘Of course—my brother will be delighted to see us!’ Dolly Pearson flapped a hand and Edith squashed herself back against the upholstery.

‘I shall be glad to get off this confounded contraption,’ Edith complained. In her heyday, when her husband had been alive, she had been used to travelling in style.

‘We allus makes a stop just up ahead at the Crown at Enfield.’ The fellow wedged in the corner next to Dolly helpfully supplied that information in his country brogue.

‘Thank heavens!’ Dolly murmured as she eased a small space between her bombazine coat and his musty tweeds.

* * *

‘Are you certain it won’t be an imposition on your brother if we turn up without warning?’ Edith took a sip of her coffee. The two ladies were seated in the Crown tavern’s snug, enjoying some warming refreshment, while the horses and driver took a well-earned rest before the final leg of the journey. It was midsummer, but cloudy and with a brisk wind cooling the air, making people huddle inside.

‘Walter will be delighted to see me,’ Dolly asserted. ‘He will be glad that I have come to take charge. With no mother to advise the girls on such important matters as wedding day...and night matters,’ she mouthed delicately, ‘my brother will be grateful for my assistance.’

In truth, Dolly’s determination to attend the imminent nuptials of her younger niece was not quite so altruistic. The momentous occasion of one of her relations joining an important aristocratic dynasty was likely to present itself only once in her lifetime and she’d no intention of missing it.

‘Well...if you’re sure Mr Dewey will have the room to accommodate us.’ Edith sounded doubtful.

‘We might have to put up at a local hostelry. My brother doesn’t keep a large establishment,’ Dolly owned up. She had kept that vital bit of information to herself when persuading her friend to accompany her to Hertfordshire. She’d not wanted to travel alone and Edith had, at first, seemed keen to be part of the big day. But Dolly could tell that her friend was now having second thoughts about the wisdom of agreeing to gatecrash the rushed affair. To soothe her friend’s nerves Dolly exclaimed, ‘Oh...it is a grand adventure, Edith. You cannot say it is not.’ She clapped her gloved palms in excitement. ‘Not an auspicious start to the romance, I’ll agree. But look how it has ended! My dear Elise is to become a viscountess! I knew from the first moment I saw them together that Alex Blackthorne was utterly smitten by her sweet nature and pretty face...’ Dolly’s reminiscence faded as she noticed she’d lost her friend’s interest.

Edith was frowning through the square-paned window into the tavern courtyard. ‘Good heavens, Dolly...look! Celia Chase is alighting from that carriage.’ Edith’s chin was sagging in astonishment.

Dolly gawped through the window, her eyes becoming slits at the sight of a familiar brunette straightening her stylish velvet hat. ‘I think I can guess what the troublemaking hussy might be doing so far from home, on the road to Hertfordshire.’

Edith inclined towards Dolly across the tabletop to hiss, ‘You surely don’t think the groom’s mistress would try to spoil things for the bride?’ She blinked in astonishment. ‘But that would be so...uncouth.’

‘I doubt good manners are that one’s forte.’ Dolly surged to her feet. ‘I’m happy to give the brass-faced baggage a much-needed lesson in etiquette.’

Before Dolly had moved a foot, Edith was dragging on her sleeve.

‘Wait! Look!’

Dolly dropped back into her chair, goggling in the direction of her friend’s pointing finger.

‘Oh dear! That is the viscount’s curricle, pulling in over there, Dolly, I’m sure I recognise it, and him.’ Edith’s voice was brimful of pity.

The two women craned forwards to watch the riveting scene unfolding through the window.

An athletic male figure jumped down from the racing equipage then suddenly, called from behind, the viscount pivoted on a heel, frowning. Grabbing at her skirts to keep them free of her flying feet, Celia hurtled over gravel. Having launched herself at Alex, she wound her arms about his neck and kissed him full on the lips.

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