The Bride (The Wedding Series) - By Christine Dorsey Page 0,23

managed to calm his team. “For if you are, I can tell you some better ways.”

“That’s all right,” John said with a grin. He shook his head to clear it and decided he needed to concentrate more on what he was doing.

“Climb up and I’ll give you a ride. By the by, where is your buggy?”

“Left it in the carriage house. And no thanks, I think I’ll walk.”

“And step in front of someone else? I insist you hop up here.”

In the end it seemed easier to accede to Douglas. With a sigh, John settled back against the leather seat.

“Don’t blame you for being upset, you know. This can be a sticky business.” Douglas gave a flick of his wrists and the bays pranced off down the street.

It took a moment for John to realize what Douglas said and that he expected a response. Since he knew why he was upset, but doubted anyone else did, he didn’t know how to respond. John’s eyes narrowed. “How do you mean?”

“The Fiskes,” Douglas said with a shrug. “It’s a good thing duels are no longer the thing. It would be a shame to have to kill old Franklin.”

“Kill Franklin?” Admittedly he was extremely angry with the older man, but he didn’t think killing him was called for.

“Well, you probably could get away with just wounding him, but—”

“Listen, Douglas, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sorry, old chap. Just a little joke. Several of us down at the Reading Room were speculating on what old Franklin would do about you compromising his daughter. Not that I blame you. I’ve thought about... well, you know. Eleanor may not be a great beauty, but she does have a certain appeal. Hell, what are you doing?”

What John had done was grab the ribbons from Douglas and none too gently reined the high-strung bays to a stop. Then he faced a startled Douglas. “Tell me precisely what you’re talking about and do it now!”

“No reason to get upset, old man—”

With his free hand John grabbed the front of Douglas’s emerald green lapels.

“All right. All right. Sir Alfred is spreading the word that you and Eleanor were alone in a fisherman’s hut after you were both swept overboard.” Despite his trussed up position, Douglas managed a smirk on his boyish face. “Sir Alfred said you two were caught in a pretty compromising position, if you know what I mean.”

For one raging moment John considered pounding his fist into Douglas Milner’s freckled nose. Then reason took hold and he decided it wasn’t worth the effort. With a shove he let him go, then leaped from the carriage.

“Wait... John. What are you going to do? No need to be upset. It’s not as if anyone is making you marry the chit.”

Before the last word was out, John bounded onto the seat and grabbed Douglas’s starched shirtfront. “Never... ever refer to Miss Fiske as anything but a lady.” Before the startled Douglas could catch his breath John was back on the road, jogging toward Oakgate.

~ ~ ~

Another afternoon picnic, like so many boring others. Only Eleanor could detect a slight charge in the air, like the buzz of a hundred bees. Not one of the guests said a word to her about the ugly rumors, but she’d heard them nonetheless.

Her mother had raged into her room last evening, angrier than Eleanor had ever seen her. Mrs. Van Mullin had let it slip over tea that Eleanor was the principal topic of conversation, especially among the young men of Newport. Word was that she’d been compromised by John Bonner on the day she fell overboard.

“I can hardly credit the truth of it, Eleanor, but the very hint of scandal will ruin your chances with Sir Alfred.”

“Why, Mother?”

“Why?” Matilda’s face grew redder with each passing minute. “Because he will want a bride above reproach, of course.”

“No, I was asking why you can’t believe that I was compromised.”

“You stupid girl, to even ask such a question!” She stormed across the room and then back. “John Bonner may be crude and lacking in manners, but he isn’t stupid. What he wanted from you was a place in society. Seducing you was hardly a means to that end. And it certainly wasn’t as if he was swept away by passion.” Her expression when she looked at her daughter made it clear why she thought that impossible.

“At any rate we, shall have to counter this nonsense. I shall give a picnic tomorrow. Mrs. Van Mullin and Alexandra have