Bound by Duty

Attison made a move to speak, but Marc silenced him with a steely glare.

He entered the cabin and closed the door.

‘I have no laces,’ she said to him, presenting her back.

‘I cut them.’ He looked around the room and found her packet of ribbons and lace. He pulled a long ribbon from the still-damp package and started lacing it through the eyelets on her corset and her dress.

‘What do we do now?’ she asked, her voice cracking.

He worked the laces. ‘We tell what happened.’

‘You will speak to Lord Tinmore?’

He tied the ribbon in a bow. ‘I will speak to him. It turns out we are close to Tinmore Hall.’ He turned her to face him. ‘It is important that we make no apology, Miss Summerfield. We did what we needed to do to get through the storm. We did nothing wrong.’

Her jaw set. ‘No apologies.’

At least she had fortitude.

He grabbed his waistcoat and coat and quickly put them on. He shoved his feet into his boots. ‘We must leave now.’

She nodded.

They opened the door and walked out into the cold morning air.

* * *

Within an hour Marc and Miss Summerfield stood in front of a wizened old man in spectacles who nonetheless had a commanding bearing.

From his large wing-back chair, he glared at Miss Summerfield. ‘You have caused your sister great worry, young lady.’

‘It was quite unintended, sir.’ At least she kept her voice strong.

Lord Tinmore, old and wrinkled, wielded his cane like a sceptre, obviously accustomed to authority.

Marc spoke up. ‘We may dispense with this matter quickly if you will listen to what we have to say.’ Men of strength usually respected strength.

Lord Tinmore glared at him over his spectacles. ‘I want your name, sir.’

Marc bowed. ‘Glenville.’

Tinmore tapped his temple. ‘Glenville?’

‘My father is Viscount Northdon. He was a schoolmate of your son’s.’ Maybe that connection would help them.

Pain edged the man’s eyes, but the look vanished quickly. ‘Northdon,’ he scoffed. ‘I know of him.’

Of course. Everyone, except perhaps Miss Summerfield, knew of his father.

Tinmore scowled at him.

Marc continued. ‘Sir. Who I am, who my father is, has no bearing on this matter. I found Miss Summerfield near freezing in the storm. We took shelter in the cabin and it was impossible to leave until morning.’

‘That is the truth!’ Miss Summerfield added, with a bit too much emotion.

Tinmore’s attention swung to her. ‘The truth! The truth is you went gallivanting around the countryside without a chaperone, in bad weather, and wound up spending the night with a man!’

‘We had no choice,’ Miss Summerfield protested, still shivering and wrapping her arms around herself to try to stay warm.

Tinmore wagged a finger at her. ‘You are a reckless scapegrace, girl! A discredit to your sister! And to me!’

‘Enough!’ Marc shouted. ‘Miss Summerfield is still cold. And hungry. She needs dry clothing and food, not an undeserved scolding.’

‘Do not dictate to me, young man!’ Tinmore countered.

Marc glared at him. ‘Give her leave to change into warm, dry clothes.’

Lord Tinmore glared back, but Marc refused to waver.

Marc lowered his voice to a firm, dangerous tone. ‘Let her go.’

‘Oh, very well.’ Tinmore waved a hand at Miss Summerfield. ‘Leave now, girl. But I am not finished with you.’

Miss Summerfield curtsied and started for the door. Before she reached it, she turned back. ‘My lord, Mr Glenville is also cold and hungry—’

Tinmore snapped at her, ‘I told you to leave. Do as I say.’

She did not move. ‘That is little thanks for what he has done, sir. You could find him dry clothing.’

‘Leave!’ Tinmore shouted.

She remained where she was.

Marc spoke to her in a soothing tone. ‘Do not fret over me, Miss Summerfield. Go now. Change into warm clothes. Eat something.’

She nodded and went out the door.

He turned back to Tinmore. ‘That was poorly done of you, sir. She has been through an ordeal.’

Tinmore’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. ‘I’m out of patience with her. She caused her sister much worry and now more scandal. I will not have scandal in my house.’

Did this man not have any heart? ‘She might have lost her life if I had not found her.’

He pursed his lips. ‘Would have served her right.’

By God, would he have preferred her to die? ‘She needs your help, sir. You have the power to stop any talk. If you stand by her, who would question it?’

‘Much you know, Glenville.’ Tinmore took off his spectacles and wiped them with a handkerchief. ‘Attison is a scandalmonger of the first rate. There is no stopping him.’