Hit Me With Your Best Scot (Wild Wicked Highlanders #3) - Suzanne Enoch Page 0,114
over her mother’s shoulder, then blew out her breath. “Thank goodness. Who borrowed what from me, then?”
“I believe Niall borrowed some of your clothes and necessaries for Amelia-Rose.”
She watched her daughter’s frown deepen, then clear with wide-eyed understanding. “He—they—Oh, they didn’t, did they?” she gasped, putting both hands over her mouth, but not quickly enough to cover her delighted grin.
“No one will confirm anything for me, but yes, I believe they are on their way to Gretna Green right now. They certainly couldn’t get anyone to marry them here, not without her parents’ permission.”
Eloise bounced up and down on her toes. “Oh, I want to tell everyone! I knew Niall would figure something out. And she agreed? But she loves London so!” Her expression sagged a little. “She’ll be ruined, won’t she? No one will ask her to parties.”
“We will ask her,” Francesca assured her. “And it may not be as bad as all that, if I have any say in matters. Which I believe I do. Or I will, anyway.”
“Well, now I want to see what he borrowed. I hope he didn’t take the yellow one. That would not be flattering with Amelia-Rose’s coloring.” Halfway up the stairs, Eloise turned around again, descended, and gave her mother a sound hug. “Please do have a say in matters. I don’t want to lose my brothers again. Not any of them.”
“Neither do I, my dear.”
Below, someone knocked at the front door. Smythe was in the pantry with half the kitchen staff trying to re-estimate yet again how much food the household needed to stock with eight additional people—very large men, rather—beneath the roof, so she returned to the foyer and pulled open the door herself.
A ramrod-straight young woman with black hair pulled into a painfully tight bun looked back at her and blinked. “My lady. I didn’t expect y—”
“You’re Amelia-Rose’s companion, aren’t you?” Francesca interrupted, alarm quaking through her bones. “Come in at once.” Half pulling the woman into the foyer, she glanced outside and then shut the door. “What’s happened? Has something gone wrong?”
“I’m Jane Bansil, my lady,” the companion said, dipping a curtsy. “And ‘gone wrong’ depends, I suppose, on your idea of what ‘wrong’ is.”
“Smythe!” Francesca called, guiding her visitor into the morning room. A footman appeared, and she requested tea, Eloise, and to be otherwise left alone.
“Thank you, my lady,” Jane said, taking a seat primly on the front edge of the couch. “I … Your son suggested that if I were to come here, you would aid me in perhaps finding another position. I do not think I’ll be welcomed back into my aunt’s household after today.”
“Of course I will. But you must tell me what happened.”
“Your son, Niall, asked me to do just that.” She folded her hands onto her lap. “Lord Hurst’s coach arrived this afternoon to take Amelia-Rose to luncheon, except it wasn’t Lord Hurst inside it. It was Niall.”
Niall had stolen Hurst’s coach? No one had mentioned that bit of skulduggery to her—and she could see why. Good heavens. “And then?” Francesca prompted.
“He asked Amelia-Rose if she would accompany him to Gretna Green, where they would marry. She agreed.” Jane sat back a little. “Your son was very concerned that my cousin have the option to change her mind if she thought the scandal would be too much to bear. I was therefore to accompany them to bring some propriety to the journey, to give her a way to back out if she changed her mind. In my opinion, however, Amelia-Rose needed to make the decision on its own merits. I therefore declined to flee with them.”
Eloise entered the room, the tea tray in her arms. “Jane?” she said, kicking the door closed and setting the tray on the table between them. “What in the world’s happened now?”
“An elopement to Gretna Green, as I suspected,” Francesca returned. “And a new houseguest. Jane will be staying with us for a time.”
“Oh, was it romantic? Did he propose? Did she cry?” Eloise asked, pouring tea despite a distinctive shake to her fingers. “I just want to jump up and down and cheer, and at the same time hit Niall for not telling me what he was up to.”
“He didn’t precisely propose, but it was definitely understood that a wedding waited at the end of the journey,” Jane answered, accepting the cup of tea with ridiculous care. “Thank you.”
The poor girl looked as if no one had bothered to offer to pour her tea in