Free Gail Eastwood by A Perilous Journey Page B

split bun, weighing her words. Could she make Lord Brinton understand the horror she had felt over the betrothal? She must try, for it was clear that she and Gilbey still needed his help. They were only twelve miles from Taunton, for pity’s sake, where their pursuers might still very well pick up their trail.
    “My uncle could not care less whether or not I am ready to be a wife,” she began again. “He pledged me to the Earl of Grassington without so much as consulting me, and then he all but expected me to kiss his feet in gratitude. Can you imagine? That I should be grateful to him for arranging to ruin my life!”
    “Is the idea of the marriage so hateful, then?”
    Gillian thought Brinton’s eyes were watchful, and his posture seemed very stiff. “Grassington is old enough to be my grandfather,” she persevered. “He does not socialize, nor is he known to travel. Although he is our nearest neighbor, I have met him only twice. To be forced to marry him is like a sentence to be entombed on his estate.”
    She paused, the color rising delicately in her cheeks with the passion of her remembered anger. “You must understand that, although I love the South Hams, I have desires. I would like to see London and something of the rest of the world. And I would pine for company, for people closer to my age, married to him.” Overwhelmed by her distaste for the idea, Gillian abruptly got up from the table and moved restlessly to the windows overlooking the inn yard.
    “Uncle William had the gall to sit in our drawing room and suggest that I should be pleased to be marrying an earl!” In the heat of the moment Gillian quite forgot that she was addressing one. “As if that were of utmost importance, or even highly unattainable!” She sniffed. “I am young, passable-looking, and the daughter of a viscount. My father left me a very generous portion. It is not outrageous to think that I might marry an earl—a young one—if I had that ambition.”
    Gillian spun around suddenly as if she had just remembered her audience. “But I don’t care if I marry a title!” she burst out. “I want to marry a man—one I love and who loves me in return! Is that so terrible?” She stopped again to get herself in hand. Her voice shook a little with the effort it cost her. As tears started to well, she brushed them away in annoyance.
    “Our uncle suggested that Gillian need only suffer Lord Grassington a little while, until he dies,” Gilbey explained with a glance at his distraught sister. “After that she would be free to do as she pleased.”
    “I could not do that,” Gillian whispered, staring at the two men still seated at the table. “The very thought is gruesome.”
    “Did you not consider that you might gladden his remaining years?” asked Brinton in an odd-sounding voice.
    “No,” she responded. “I thought every sight of me would just remind him of his numbered days.” She shuddered.
    “So you decided to run away.”
    “Not at first.” Still battling tears, Gillian looked to her twin for help.
    “We thought we could reason with them,” Gilbey said. “Uncle William had this absurd notion that Gillian was ‘sensible and biddable.’ I don’t know where he got that idea!” He threw an affectionate glance at his sister and smiled.
    Gillian did not rise to his bait, however, saying nothing. Gilbey held out his handkerchief to her.
    “I thought Uncle William would change his mind when he realized how opposed she was to his plan,” Gilbey continued. “However, when I approached him, he just flew into a temper.”
    Gillian blew her nose and then stood behind her brother’s chair with one hand on his shoulder, as if drawing support from the physical contact. “Gilbey even tried to approach Lord Grassington, but he could not see him.”
    “Why?”
    “The earl wouldn’t admit me—no reason given,” Gilbey said.
    “That was when I decided to run away,” Gillian explained bitterly. “I do not think