Free Fated Folly by Elizabeth Bailey

are acquainted?—will never rise before nine. But I am such a poor sleeper. And hearing voices, I came down at once. So tedious to be cooped up in these places. One longs for company.’
    Her avid eyes travelled over Clare and she cringed inside. It was obvious to the meanest intelligence that she had come down purely out of curiosity. Her next question confirmed it, had the matter been at all in doubt.
    â€˜ You are staying here perhaps, Clare? Your—er—mama, too?’
    Fire leapt into Clare’s cheeks. ‘No—no, I—I came—that is…’
    â€˜ Lady Carradale is expected at any moment,’ Sir Rupert lied smoothly, to Clare’s instant relief.
    â€˜ Oh, indeed?’ Mrs Nateby said, and Clare wanted to kill the woman for the thoughtful glance that swept from her head to her heels. She knew she looked dishevelled, but that was the least of it.
    â€˜ And will she also be attired in her evening gown?’
    â€˜ No, of course not,’ Clare snapped unthinkingly. ‘I am only dressed like this because I came here last night with Lord Ashendon.’
    â€˜ Did you so?’ responded the lady, her smile unctuous. ‘I wonder why?’
    â€˜ And what of your journey, Mrs Nateby?’ put in Ashendon sweetly, as her eyes turned on him. ‘Are you on your way out of the capital?’
    Clare could not have believed she might be grateful for Ashendon’s sarcastic manner, but it served them little, for there was answering malice in the matron’s pitying glance.
    â€˜ No, indeed. We shall be in London today. We are returning from a visit to my dear mother, and a wheel came off the carriage.’ She glanced at Clare and must have taken in the hope that leapt up into her bosom. ‘Oh, it is mended now. But it was ready only at such a late hour, you see, that we were obliged to stop here until morning. So unfortunate.’
    â€˜ Very much so,’ agreed Sir Rupert drily.
    This brought Mrs Nateby’s eyes fluttering around to him, an avid question in them. ‘And you, Sir Rupert? What brings you to this spot?’
    â€˜ I am about to escort Miss Carradale home,’ Sir Rupert said, taking charge, and thereby winning Clare’s everlasting gratitude. But his intervention proved vain.
    Mrs Nateby’s eye brightened. ‘Oh, she is with you then?’
    â€˜ She is certainly not with me,’ put in Lord Ashendon, and Clare wanted to scratch his sneering face. ‘I stayed at the Red Lion.’
    Sir Rupert shot him a look that spoke volumes, much to Clare’s approval. She bit her tongue on hot words, praying that Mrs Nateby would refrain from drawing any further undesirable conclusions.
    Just at that moment, there came the sound of the opening of the front door down the hall, and a frustrated voice.
    â€˜ Bless me, the place is deserted. Host! Host, I say!’
    â€˜ Papa!’ cried Clare thankfully, and without thought, pushed past Mrs Nateby to gain access to the hallway. ‘Papa! It is I, Clare.’
    Lord Carradale’s myopic eyes blinked furiously as his daughter came up. ‘Clare? Hrumph. Bless me, girl, what do you mean by it? Where’s that—um—rascally fellow Ashendon? Why you must needs elope with the fellow is a matter—hrumph—passing my comprehension.’
    â€˜ Oh, Papa, hush,’ begged Clare frantically, seizing hold of his lapels. In an undervoice, she added, ‘That horrid old tabby Mrs Nateby is here.’
    â€˜ What’s that? Hrumph.’
    Fumbling for his spectacles in an inner recess of his coat, her father looked around and his eyes fixed on something over Clare’s shoulder, by which she deduced that Mrs Nateby had entered the hall. He was still hunting for his eye glasses as she came up.
    â€˜ It seems to be a question, Carradale,’ she said with relish, ‘whether she has eloped with Ashendon or with Wolverley himself.’
    â€˜