Scales and Sensibility by Stephanie Burgis

Chapter 31

Elinor stumbled back. She almost fell. Gavin Armitage’s hand swung out to catch her, but she caught herself just in time to wave him back.

“Wait here,” she said urgently. “I’ll go and find them.”

“Oh, will you?” He sneered at her, his handsome face twisting. “How much of a fool do you take me for, Mrs. De Lacey? You’ve been manoeuvering on Hawkins’s behalf all along. I should have guessed that you two would hatch this scheme in the end. He’s compromising her right now, isn’t he?”

“No!” Elinor gritted her teeth as Sir Jessamyn hunched on her shoulder, glaring at Mr. Armitage with slitted golden eyes. “But if I don’t hurry—”

“If you don’t hurry up and publicly discover them, then it won’t work, will it?” Gavin Armitage stepped closer to loom over her, fists clenched at his sides. “Do you think I can’t see for myself how you’ve planned it? You’ll be shocked and horrified to discover the two of them alone together. Then Sir John won’t have a choice in the matter. He’ll be forced to let them marry—to insist that they marry—no matter what Hawkins’s fortune might be!”

“Mr. Armitage—”

“I should have revealed everything days ago. Hawkins would have been tossed out on his ear, as he should have been from the beginning. He may be pretending to fortune and respectability, but if Sir John had any idea what his father had done—”

“Well, then, why didn’t you simply tell him?” Elinor tilted her neck back to glare up at him. “I am growing weary of your theatrics, Mr. Armitage. Don’t bother pretending that you were motivated by kindness or generosity to hold your silence until now.”

His face worked. He didn’t answer.

“We haven’t time to waste in arguing. I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you’re wise—”

"What is going on here?” Miss Armitage’s voice was lowered, but irritation snapped through it as she stepped between them. Her dragon looked down his snout at Sir Jessamyn with open disdain; Miss Armitage’s own expression mirrored his as she looked at Elinor. “The two of you are drawing far too much attention with your argument. What can you be thinking?”

“Blame your brother,” Elinor snapped, “and keep him under control. I’m going to find Penelope before she can cause any more damage.”

She stalked off before they could stop her, and Sir Jessamyn, for the first time ever, let out an unmistakable hiss of warning as he glared back at them over her shoulder.

“Brave dragon,” she whispered, patting his back. “Good dragon.”

Elinor knew she didn’t have long before they would follow. Miss Armitage might insist on some subtlety and discretion, but once she understood exactly what had happened, she would be every bit as determined as her brother. Neither of them would ever trust her to manage the situation on her own.

If she wasn’t fast enough, someone else would find them first.

Panic pulsed against Elinor’s throat. She hurried out of the ballroom, desperately trying to think herself into her cousin’s mindset. Penelope would want—no, would need—to be discovered, and as quickly as possible, before Benedict could safely extract himself from the situation…but she had to have tricked him into someplace private, someplace with a door that she could close, a setting that couldn’t be seen as innocuous.

It had to be nearby. But where?

A row of doors, at least half of them closed, met her eyes as she stepped out of the ballroom. A scattering of guests sauntered up and down the long corridor, laughing and talking. Elinor looked at Sir Jessamyn; he looked back at her, wide-eyed.

“Your magic isn’t going to help us right now, is it?” she whispered. “Not without a wish.”

Her shoulders slumped as she contemplated the task ahead. She could work her way up and down the corridor, opening every single door…or she could use her wits. How would Penelope have tricked Benedict out of the ballroom?

A headache would have required fresh air—but the garden was too private for Penelope’s purposes. A chill would have required a shawl, but Benedict would never have agreed to escort her to the privacy—and impropriety—of her bedroom. A strained ankle would only have required a chair, and there were plenty of those in the ballroom. If she had dropped or forgotten something in a public room, though, and wanted his escort as she fetched it, it would have been unpardonably rude to refuse her.

The dining room. It stood at the end of the corridor. As she watched, the door eased shut—from the inside.

“Hold on, Sir Jessamyn.” Elinor picked up her skirts and ran.

She was lucky: the small groups of guests that she passed moved out of her way. But as her hand closed over the doorknob, she suddenly realized that she had a new problem, and this one was of her own creation: they were all staring expectantly after her now. Just as Miss Armitage had warned, she had drawn exactly the wrong kind of attention.

Even if she hurried Penelope and Benedict out of the dining room before anyone else could walk in and discover them, every guest who lingered curiously in the corridor would see her emerging with the two of them and realize what had happened. Damnation.

Elinor paused for a long moment with her hand on the doorhandle, fighting to think clearly through her panic. Perhaps if she moved on, pretended she’d been looking for something else, then doubled back…

She heard Benedict’s voice through the door. “I don’t see your fan here, Miss Hathergill. Are you certain this is where you left it?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Miss Armitage emerging from the ballroom.

Elinor gritted her teeth and eased the door very slightly open. She turned to one side to slip through it, praying that no one could see past her and Sir Jessamyn into the room beyond. She had no idea how she would explain things in five minutes…but she had no time to waste in attempting complex plans. Not anymore.

A crash sounded in the dining room the very moment she turned the doorhandle. Penelope let out a breathy shriek. Quick footsteps sounded across the room.

“Are you hurt?” Benedict said, as Elinor eased through the partially-open door. “Let me take your arm. Is it your ankle?”

“No,” Elinor answered for her cousin, as she closed the door behind her…

…and Penelope threw her arms around Benedict’s neck, lunging upwards to kiss his mouth.

Benedict staggered back. “Miss Hathergill—!”

“Too late!” Penelope beamed up at him. “We’ve been discovered.”

“What?” Benedict’s gaze went to the closed door, and he blanched. “When was that shut? I thought—”

Elinor crossed her arms. “It’s no use, Penelope,” she snapped. “I’m the only one who’s seen. And I am not convinced.”

“What?” Penelope let go of Benedict. “Of course you’re convinced! We planned this together, didn’t we?”

“You did what?” Benedict backed away from both of them, staring at Elinor as if he’d never seen her before.

Only the memory of the guests waiting outside the room gave Elinor the strength not to scream.

“We,” she said to Penelope, “did not plan this together.”

“Of course we did! Don’t you remember? You said he wasn’t going to propose otherwise, so—”

“I never said that you should do this! I said you should accept Gavin Armitage. Although,” Elinor added hastily, “I don’t actually think that you should do that, either, now.”

“Will you please make up your mind?” Penelope crossed her arms, glaring at her through slitted blue eyes. “You’re not making any sense! You know I have to be betrothed by the end of tonight. If you don’t want me marrying Mr. Armitage, then—”

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Benedict asked Elinor. “If you knew she was going to attempt this—”

“I tried!” Elinor gritted her teeth. “We can discuss all of this later.” I hope. “But in the meantime, I have to leave immediately, and—”

“Leave?” Benedict started towards her. “What do you mean? What’s happened?”

“No one is going anywhere until you both agree that I’ve been compromised!” Penelope announced. “I am going to marry Mr. Hawkins, whether or not you think that it’s a good idea.”

“You will not.” Elinor’s gaze fastened on the door half-hidden in the opposite wall; relief soaked through her body. It was the servants’ door, and it was exactly the escape route that she and Benedict needed. “You,” she said to Penelope, “are going to walk out of this room by yourself. Mr. Hawkins will leave from a different direction. And as I’m the only one who’s seen the two of you alone together…”

The door handle turned behind her. The door swung open and hit her hard on her back, knocking her off her feet. She slammed forward onto her hands and knees, hairpins scattering around her. A long hank of hair fell over her eyes, obscuring her vision. Sir Jessamyn fell off her shoulder and tumbled onto the floor with a desperate, low chuckle of fear.

“What the devil is going on here?” said Sir John.

Sir Jessamyn lost control on the glossy wooden floor.

Benedict let out a whispered curse that Elinor had never heard before. Penelope raced to his side and flung her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides.

“Papa, I am betrothed!—And compromised,” she added hastily. “So we haven’t any choice about it.”

“What?!”

“She is not compromised,” said Elinor, “and not betrothed, either!” She pushed herself up, gathering up Sir Jessamyn in a protective embrace. Her hair had come half-undone; she was panting, and she could feel a new bruise forming on the same area of her back that had been injured in her fall a week ago. Still, she raised her head and met Sir John’s gaze squarely as the unmistakable stench of dragon slime filled the room. “Your daughter attempted to trick Mr. Hawkins into a compromising situation. Fortunately, I arrived in time to save them both.”

Sir John’s face was puce with fury. His murderous gaze fastened onto Benedict, who was trying to politely detach himself from Penelope’s embrace. “I was told by at least three different people that Mrs. De Lacey had gone tearing from the ballroom into this room by herself. No one else has entered the room in the meantime, and the door has been closed the entire time. How do you explain that, sirrah, except by the fact that you have compromised my innocent daughter?”

“But they weren’t alone,” said Miss Armitage calmly, behind him.

As everyone else turned to stare at her, she glided into the room, composed as always, and closed the door behind her. “Oh, dear. Has there been a misunderstanding? I was with them the entire time until well after dear Mrs. De Lacey arrived.” She shot Elinor a look of pure venom. “Didn’t she think to mention that?”

“But…” Sir John scowled. “Where did you go in the meantime, may I ask?”

“Oh, I left by the servant’s entrance.” Miss Armitage shrugged delicately. “I had torn a bit of lace on my dress. I didn’t want anyone else to see me until it was pinned. But as they were safely chaperoned by Mrs. De Lacey when I left—”

“She’s lying, Papa!” gasped Penelope. “That isn’t what happened at all. She wasn’t anywhere near us until now!”

“No,” Sir John agreed. “I know she wasn’t. Good friends may do their best to save you from an unwanted marriage, pet, but I saw her in the ballroom not five minutes ago, talking to her brother. No one else will believe her, either.” He turned on Benedict, shoulders squaring like a bull’s. “You, sir, have publicly besmirched my daughter’s honor, and you will pay the price, whether you care for it or not.”

“He did not!” Elinor protested. “Nothing happened between them. I can swear to it!”

“You know as well as I that that makes no difference in the eyes of society.” Sir John glared at Benedict. “Well, Mr. Hawkins? Are you ready to come with me back to the ballroom, to make the announcement together to our guests?”

Benedict straightened his shoulders. He squared his chin. “No,” he said. “I’m afraid that is not possible. I cannot marry Miss Hathergill, because I am already betrothed.”

“What?” Penelope’s jaw dropped. She fell back, her arms finally dropping away from him. “You can’t be!”

“Already betrothed?” Sir John snapped. “Balderdash. To whom?”

“Benedict…” Elinor whispered.

His eyes met hers, rueful and resigned. One strong shoulder lifted in a shrug.

“To Elinor Tregarth,” he said. “Your niece.”