runaway marriage

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Tea with Aldridge and a letter from a concerned aunt

The Duchess of Haverford looked up from the letter she was reading. “Aldridge, dear, have you ever met Ruthford’s grandson?”

Aldridge lowered his newspaper to attend to his mother’s question. “Matthew Strathford-Bowes? Tragic, what happened to him. Or one of the Foxton brothers?”

“The other grandson, Aldridge,” the duchess clarified. “Lionel O’Toole.”

“O’Toole,” Aldridge repeated, frowning as he considered. “Ah yes. The illegitimate grandson. Part-Indian, or so I understand. Though one would think Irish, with a surname like that.”

“His mother was the daughter of an Irish soldier who married a Bengali lady,” the duchess explained. “I remember when the poor little boy arrived here from India. Ruthford acknowledged him, had him educated, and bought him a commission in the cavalry.”

“Ah, yes. He serves with the younger Foxton,” Aldridge commented. “I know the older one, Viscount Westberry. Fellow doesn’t think much of his brother, but likes his cousin. Says it’s a pity the man is illegitimate.”

Her Grace waved the letter. “Not illegitimate apparently. The letter is from Ruthford’s sister, Lady Patricia. Apparently, Ruthford concealed a marriage certificate. Lionel is the only son and rightful heir of Ruthford’s eldest son.”

Aldridge whistled. “That will ruffle a few feathers in the Committee for Priviliges. I imaging O’Toole is none too pleased, either.” He gave a bark of laughter. “Mind you, I’d love to know what the mothers of marriageable maidens will make of it. The heir to an earldom. Healthy, wealthy, and with all his teeth. And a war hero besides!”

“They are too late,” the duchess said, waving the letter again. “Lionel is married. Quite suddenly apparently, and under some unusual circumstances involving an heiress on the run from Roderick Westinghouse.”

“Hernware’s brother? I don’t blame her for running away.”

“Neither does Lady Patricia, but she is concerned about what the Westinghouses might say,” said Her Grace.

Aldridge grinned. “What does Lady Patricia want us to do about it, Mama?”

The duchess gave her son a fond smile. “You are correct, my dear. Lady Patricia would like the ton to know the truth about her grand-nephew and his new wife and their romance. The ton does love a love story.”

“The truth, Mama? Or a favourable version of it?”

She shook her head at him. “You are a cynic, Aldridge. But you will help me, will you not?”

Lionel O’Toole is the hero of Chaos Come Again.

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Compromised on WIP Wednesday

In Chaos Come Again, a neighbour of my hero’s grandfather discovers him with the runaway heiress he has rescued.

“Lady Blaine,” Colonel O’Toole said. “It is Lady Blaine, is it not?”

The lady lifted a lorgnette to examine him and raised both brows. “Surely you must be Lionel O’Toole? Lion, my dear boy! How charming to see you. But what are you doing in Darlington? No, do not tell me. Of course, you are going to Persham Abbey. Is the earl dying at last?”

“As far as I know, my lady, my grandfather is as fit as ever, and will outlive us all. But yes, I am bound for Persham Abbey.”

She rapped the colonel’s arm with her lorgnette. “Ruthford is very proud of you, Lion. Every time you are mentioned in despatches, we hear about it from him, and when you made colonel, one might have thought you had been appointed king. He won’t tell you, of course. Too proud. So, I am letting you know myself.”

Colonel O’Toole looked startled, but he said, “Then I thank you, my lady. May I ask after Anthony?”

“He is Lord Blaine now, and can you believe that his eldest daughter will be making her come-out in two years? Ridiculous how time passes. He will be delighted to hear I have seen you. I daresay he shall ride over to visit you while you are at the Abbey.” She turned to Dorothea. “But I am being rude, my dear. You must forgive me. Lionel and my son Anthony were great friends in their school days.”

Mrs Austin inserted herself. “This is Miss Brabant, my lady.”

“My betrothed,” the colonel added, taking Dorothea’s hand and squeezing it in an unspoken message.

“The Brabant Mills heiress,” Lady Blaine said. “Oh, well done, Lion. Congratulations. And my very best wishes to you, Miss Brabant. Lion is a splendid fellow. I am sure you will be very happy. But you are in a hurry. We will leave you to your lunch and hope to see you during your stay at the Abbey. Come along, Mrs Austin.”

Dorothea protested as soon as the door shut behind the two women. “Betrothed?” Her heart had given a jump when he said it. He didn’t mean it, of course. There was no use hoping he did, and the sooner she heard him say it was a ploy, the better.

“We’ll discuss it in a minute,” the colonel promised. “Corporal, give them the signal to serve lunch, would you?”