Like No Other

Chapter 31: A Happy Reunion

"Elope?" asked Stokeford, momentarily dumbstruck. He practically snatched the note from his uncle's trembling hand and read it silently. It ran: 'March, You know very well that the case is desperate. I'm leaving for the meantime, and taking Miss Carstairs with me. Don't ask why. I'll tell you at no distant future. Goodbye for now. I leave everything in your capable hands.' "Oh, God!" he said afterwards.

"Exactly," nodded Robert, his face pensive. "Well, truthfully, he did not really say anything of that sort, but then there it is—plain as pikestaff! I'd say I had not expected it of Milborne, though I'm quite certain he was using his brains when he decided to el— I mean, to persuade Marianne to come with him," he amended, looking at Lord Mislington a little sheepishly.

"No need to wrap it all in clean linen, sir!" said the older gentleman wrathfully. "They eloped, and that's that! Moreover, he was not only using his brains, but also that damned silver-tongue of his! I'll be sure to blow them both out of his anatomy when I see him again!"

Having recovered from his astonishment, Stokeford frowned, and murmured: "I've never known Cedric Milborne to be silver-tongued." Lord Mislington glared at him.

"In the very least, this turn of event has untangled one of the coils," argued the single-minded Lord March. "And what's more, I found it utterly romantic."

"Upon my word! There's my daughter, tricked into eloping with that blackguard, and here you are breezily declaring it as romantic! I find nothing romantic in it, March! I only see a future of relentless scorn and whispered scandals for my poor daughter. Oh, Lord!" Lord Mislington covered his eyes with agitating hand.

Moved to pity, March begged pardon, offered him another glass of brandy, and said in a contrite tone that he was merely being phlegmatic. "No, not tricked, sir. Marianne knows her own mind now, of that I am certain. We are none the wiser of what she and Milborne had planned, but I am sure this is suppose to be turned to Stefan's advantage."

Lord Mislington cast a resentful eye upon his nephew. He said gruffly: "You are always a burden to the family, Stefan. Why is Mari sacrificing for your sake, I'm damned if I know."

"Have done now, Uncle. You know that this is not supposed to happen. Mari and I would never suit anyway," replied Stefan in a mild tone. "Besides, I'd like to think that her running away is not a sacrifice; rather, it might be that she and Milborne have been sharing a mutual feeling which we'd been so blind to have overlooked."

"She's throwing herself away!" cried the elder Viscount bitterly. "All my life I've wanted to protect her, and marry her to someone who deserves her. And a fine thanks I've got!"

"And that someone is definitely not me. Milborne is a good man, sir. I believe he will make her very happy indeed."

The frown on his brows gradually disappeared, and he almost looked rueful as he stared at the two younger gentlemen. A small, reluctant smile dawned on his stern, thin lips. "Aye, I envy you," he said unexpectedly. "How could you hold on to your beliefs in the face of adversity is something I had never had the courage to do when I was your age."

"My grandfather, as I remembered, had a reputation of being severe," disclosed Stokeford wryly.

His Uncle snorted. "Severe? That's a monstrous understatement!" Seeing their look of astonishment at the vehemence of his speech, the Viscount continued pragmatically: "Well, that's neither here nor there. I want to make sure that Marianne is safe in your friend's hands. Moreover—," he stared hard at them. "I want Milborne to swear he means marriage by her, or by God—,"

"Yes, yes, you have it, my lord," interposed March hastily, unable to think of another possible violent end for his poor friend.

"You are not Milborne!"