Lady in Rags

Chapter Forty: Courting Trouble

Verity rubbed a clear patch in the glass of the carriage window. It was raining outside, and the window kept fugging up. Every now and then she cleared it and examined the view: here, the outskirts of town; there, the highway; and now, new-laid fields that in the rain were mostly mud.

"We could not have delayed much longer," Mrs Roper said. "To have stayed so long, indeed, was courting trouble."

"Yes." Verity's voice seemed very small and quiet to her.

It had been two days since she had so abruptly and improperly married Neil, and now that they were finally leaving Albroke, she was second guessing every moment of it. She huddled into the corner of the carriage, one hand resting on her belly, where Neil had kissed it.

Then this was it.

They had said their goodbyes. There was nothing to do but part ways, and part honourably, without looking back. It would be best, even, to move somewhere far away from Houglen, in case Lord Albroke did find out about the marriage, and attempt again some intervention or revenge. Until the day Lord Albroke died, Verity had to consider herself the ghost. She had made that deal with him – made it, and broken it by subterfuge.

A deal! He had taken Neil from her. He had as much as told her that he would take one: Neil or the baby, and she had -

Meekly.

Cowardly.

Yielded.

She was as angry at herself as she was him. Away from his presence, it was easy to forget how coercive and violent he had been. If she had not been so flustered or weak, she would have resisted. At first, she apportioned only an equal share of the blame to herself, and then, as the miles separated her from both her enemy and the man she loved, began to claim more of it. If she had not allowed Richard to be so weak. If she had not been scared of Lord Albroke's fists. If she had not fled. If she had only trusted Neil's recovery.

Mile by mile, she hated herself more and more. In the final mile, somewhere near Stevenage, sense came to her, and she turned her hatred back over on its true target, and determined to ruin him.

"Mrs Roper," she said. "We're turning back to Albroke."

Mrs Roper looked surprised. "But – my dear, you cannot afford to wait in that inn, until he – gets better."

"I'm not going to wait. And I'm not going to the inn. I have business with Lord Albroke."

"No – no, my love."

"But yes." She squared her shoulders. It seemed inconceivable that she had come so far already. "That odious man – I'm not going to fall to him. Not I, and not Neil either. I won't let us."

There was an attempt at argument. Mrs Roper could be almost as stubborn as Verity – almost, but not quite. The carriage turned around in the drizzle, and made its way to Albroke Manor.

When they arrived, the drizzle had become a downpour, and they fled up the steps of the manor to huddle under the terrace, where Mrs Roper clanged the bell. It was some time before the butler opened the door, and when they explained their desire to see Lord Albroke, he made them wait for over an hour in the cold waiting room before he brought them through to Lord Albroke's office.

"I didn't expect to see you again," Lord Albroke said, by way of greeting. He did not bother to hide his malice. Verity curtsied, but did not smile. Now that she was in front of him, she realized the difficulty she faced in persuading him to let her change his mind: out of pure bull-headed disagreeableness, he would likely refuse.