“Well, I’m glad you decided against killing his grace. It would have been a messy business,” Sir Harry said. “I would have had to second you out of the country.”
“That was clever, Harry,” she said. She’d started to say that it had been the other way around that it had been the marquess who’d done her in, but she didn’t say that. What Sir Harry said was the truth. She could have killed him, perhaps, if she’d still had the strength. She’d felt invincible at the time, but now, she didn’t know what would have happened. “He took me to Thurston Hall and cared for me. I owe him a debt of gratitude.”
Scuddy said simply, “You deloped, Lord Harry. I was very proud of you.”
“Deloped? Come, Scuddy, one delopes with a pistol. Our duel was with foils.”
“No, Scuddy’s hit the nail on the head. Same thing, at least in principle,” Sir Harry said. “Damned brave thing to do. Like I’ve told Scuddy here countless times, you had the tip of your foil at Lord Oberlon’s chest could have sliced him up right then but chose to let him live. Yes, you deloped.”
“You can’t disagree, Lord Harry,” Mr. Scuddimore said. “The marquess himself could talk about nothing but your honor and bravery.”
“The marquess?” Hetty asked, at sea.
“Button your trap, Scuddy after all, they were my letters. Well, at least, they were my brother-in-law’s letters and I was the one who read them. You see, Lord Harry, while you were on the mend at Thurston Hall, the marquess kept Julien informed of your progress and also how he had developed the greatest respect for you, despite your wild ways and your tender years.”
She wished he hadn’t done it with such leveling sincerity, yet it warmed her to her toes. But enough of the marquess. She quickly turned to Sir Harry, “Enough of my affairs. Tell us, Harry, may Scuddy and I yet toast your impending wedding with the lovely Isabella?”
A deep frown settled on Sir Harry’s smooth brow.
“Proper mad, he is,” Scuddy said.
Sir Harry did look harassed. “Damned if I know what the chit’s about. Seems she ain’t so adverse to Sir William Filey’s suit anymore.”
“Sir William Filey is a disgusting old man. Explain yourself.”
“It’s just as I said. That old lecher is making himself very agreeable to Isabella. Showers her with flowers and silly notes praising the ribbons in her damned hair, even takes her riding in the park. He had the damned gall to approach me at White’s, smirking all the while, to lay a wager on which of us would win the chit.”
Hetty felt herself go cold. Did Sir William want to repeat with Isabella what he had done to Elizabeth? “Come, Harry, this is nonsense. Surely Isabella doesn’t welcome his attentions. If anything, it’s her damned mother forcing her to be pleasant to the satyr.”
“What’s a satyr?” Scuddy said.
“A very unlovable creature,” Hetty said.
Harry stared down into his glass of sherry.
“Damn you, Harry, answer me. Have you proposed to Isabella, told her of your feelings? Has she turned you down?”
Harry’s hand tightened around the crystal, and the stem broke. He looked up and said, anger filling him, “Oh very well, you interfering bastard. If you must know, she hasn’t given me the chance. And I’ve told her time and again not to be taken in by that old roué’s flattery. I’ve told her he just wants to seduce her, that he liked young girls, and he can’t be trusted.”
She stared at him thoughtfully. “So what you’re telling me is that when you’re with Isabella, you spend all your time raking her down and telling her how stupid she is. It’s you who are the stupid one, Harry. How can you be such an idiot?”
There was a sudden gleam of understanding in Mr. Scuddimore’s eyes. “By jove, Lord Harry’s right. A girl can’t like to be preached to all the time. Bet when you leave, Sir William comes by and tells her that she’s the light of his life. Deuced stupid, Harry, deuced stupid.”
Hetty knew Sir Harry was on the point of knocking over their dinner and smacking Scuddy in his rounded jaw. He’d already broken his sherry glass. She said quickly, “Harry, heed me. There is much that I know about Sir William, things that you or Scuddy would scarce believe true. Suffice it to say that Sir William need not necessarily have marriage to Isabella in mind. He likes young virgins, Harry. He likes to take their virginity and then leave them, perhaps even leave them pregnant. I know of one proven example.”
“Just how the devil do you know that?”
“It’s just as I said. The man is vile and he will do anything to achieve his ends. He is a man of much experience and Isabella knows nothing about the sordid world in which he lives. She is innocent and pure. If you don’t take action, she will be ruined. Even if it is marriage Sir William must offer, he will very quickly turn her life into a living hell. All he wants from her is her innocence, Harry. He doesn’t want her, not like you do.”
“Oh damnation. What if she won’t have me?”
Hetty regarded him steadily for a long moment. “If you care for her, Harry, then you must haul her off to Gretna Green. It would be an act of true chivalry.”
Sir Harry nervously gulped down a full glass of sherry. “I must think. Bedamned, I must think.” He rose unsteadily from the table, jerking at his cravat as if it were suddenly choking him.
Sir Harry suddenly crashed his fist upon the table, having reached the most portentous decision of his life. “By God, I’ll do it. Yes, I’ll marry her. I’ll haul her over my shoulder and carry her to Gretna Green if I have to. And you’re right, damn you,
