"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!"

"Since he is not here, you have my word sir that March's word is as good as Milborne's," Stokeford swore gravely. "I won't let anything harm my cousin's person and reputation. I owe this much to her."

Lord Mislington stood up and despondently shook his head at him. "You do. But rumours will strike damned too fast, so by the time she returns it will be too late to stop the wagging tongues. When you find her, tell her that I am not angry anymore. Well, perhaps very much upset, but I have a better stock of the situation now."

Stokeford rose to his feet as well and offered his hand to be shaken. "Forgive me, Uncle," he replied sincerely. "Had the situation been a little less complicated, Mari wouldn't have done so desperate an action. You must admit however, that everything has resulted from your own contrivance and it is not only I or her that is affected by this."

"I know. Your mother has been dropping a hint about your involvement with some chit. I won't begrudge my felicitations for your happiness Stefan, though I hope you're thinking wise by making this decision," said Lord Mislington, and with a few exchange of words with March, left the room.

"Phew!" March exclaimed in relief afterwards. "Now that another obstacle has been overcome, what now?"

Stokeford eyed him suspiciously. He said: "Do tell me something, Robert. What does Milborne mean by saying that he's leaving everything in your capable hands? I gather you have your own finger in the pie?"

"If I had mine, which was not the case, the pie would've been even more tastier," quipped the Viscount.

"Believe me, I don't find anything tasty on it," retorted Stokeford. "I'm just making sure that you did not plant this mad notion into Milborne's brain. What a rash fellow he is to be sure."

"I assure you, I had no influence whatsoever in his decision."

"Very well, then. I suppose one thing that remains for me to do is to follow them to Gretna, or wherever they may be."

"My dear fellow, it seems to me that in the midst of these shambles you already forgot about your lady," Robert drawled in amusement. "Don't you think she is the first thing for you to do something about?"

The Earl stood up, and for the first time in the course of this turbulent week a ghost of a smile finally touched his lips. "It is, indeed. But I prefer to save the very best for last," he said.

It had not taken too long for Lady Stokeford to hear the elopement of her niece and prospective daughter-in-law, and the reluctant consent of her brother to the whole matter. She was angry of having discovered that her schemes were all ruined, and angrier still in the realization that her son could now marry whomever he pleased. Lord Mislington had endured her lengthy rants, hearing her out in exasperated silence, and after which had suggested rather irately to come down from her pelter for there wasn't anything to do about it. "Anyway, Stefan assured me that Marianne had never wanted to marry him so why force them? I am certain nothing would come out of this except a disastrous union."

The Countess said scornfully: "Oh, yes! And my niece's marriage to a nobody like Cedric Milborne will certainly add to her consequence, just as my son's to Caroline Davis! This family would soon be filled with commoners who would soon take liberties to puff off the consequences we lend them!"

"The trouble with you, Margaret, is that you are pretty much *high in the instep! It's not as though they are vulgar people, is it?" Mislington's brows puckered as a thought occurred to him. "I remember Marianne told me once about her little friend Caroline; is she the chit you are talking about?"

"Yes, and no, they are not vulgar people," her ladyship answered coldly.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "From what I'd heard of Marianne, she's a personable young woman. The name Davis doesn't struck a chord in my memory, but I'm sure she's from a genteel family; otherwise my daughter wouldn't have sought her friendship. Why are you so against the match anyway?"

"Because she aims too high, that's why!" flung the Countess. "She'd been leading on poor Laurie for some time, and then refused his offer of marriage in the end — the gall of the chit! I declare I hadn't heard anything equal to it. And now she's waiting around for my son to declare himself."

Her brother said gravely: "Your partiality for Laurie clouds your judgement, my dear. He's a nice lad, but spare something for your own son. God knows, Stefan's life has been filled with misery since childhood. I had never seen him so determined as he is right now — and all because of this Caroline Davis. If you continue your opposition, it would be worse for you."

The interview she had with her son was nothing short of being worse. Unable to contain herself, Lady Stokeford had provoked Stefan to the limit, and there ensued a rather heated conversation between them which had been the talk of the household for days. For Stokeford himself, he had not only been in a dire humour, but he was also, in part, a little uncertain on how to proceed. His search for two runaways in Gretna Green had proved to be futile, and he'd wasted three days for that alone. Upon his return, there was no sign of his mother and half of his servants was gone, and he asked Philips in his accustomed withering tone if they were the only people in the house.

"Her ladyship left for Bath yesterday my lord, and is intending to spend a week there," the retainer replied unwaveringly.

"Did she tell you why?"

"Visiting, my lord." Philips hesitated for a while, and then continued: "She left with the escort of Sir Wallace."

Stokeford stared at him incredulously, and wondered to himself loudly, "And how in the world did she persuade that addled-brained godfather of mine to go with her to Bath, I should like to know?"

"I am sure I do not know, my lord," replied Philips, then hesitated again. Observing this rather strange manner in his otherwise imperturbable butler, the Earl said curiously: "You seem to have something to share with me, my good man. Come, let us hear it if you please."

"Forgive me for being so straightforward, my lord, but I do not pretend to be ignorant of your, er, affairs. It might be of some interest to you to know who I saw this morning."

His master gave him a sharp look. "Who? Tell me!"

"Why, it was that black-haired young woman, Miss Davis, my lord."

Stokeford abruptly sprang to his feet. "Where did you see her? Why didn't you tell me at once?"

Philips begged pardon, and explained that he didn't want to overstep in his position and appear very much interested in the Matter. To which Stokeford replied in a blunt precision to stop talking nonsense, and that he'd always been interested in his affairs, however incurious he appeared. "So stop pitching the gammon Philips, for I know you better!" he added.

"As I was saying, my lord," said the butler, ignoring this entire speech, "I saw Miss Davis this morning when I opened the door to receive letters from the postman. I was rather surprise to see her, for it was as though she had been there for a while, standing a little way out of sight from the door. Then she smiled and walked away so fast that she just disappeared before the postman had left — my lord?"

"I am going out again. I am very sure where to find her now," Stokeford said, walking away. His next destination was the house at Bruton Street, but the hope and excitement that was budding within him was abruptly crushed when he saw the knocker was missing from the door, and the shutters closed. Apparently, the Winscotts had not yet returned, and Caroline couldn't possibly be in there. Again, he found himself at a loss and frustrated. When he disclosed his fruitless errands for the past few days, his sympathetic friend suggested that he should give himself a break.

"I can't," he returned, running an impatient hand through his already disheveled hair. "Robert, she is here — maybe just somewhere out there, and I shan't be able to sleep for the night, let alone give myself a break. I am dying to see her and yet, I feel I still can't. My mind is in such a turmoil right now I am not sure how to go on anymore."

"If she wasn't at the Winscotts', then she might just be visiting town for some errands. Don't tax yourself, Stefan. You've borne enough this past week."

"I shall come down to Hampshire soon, but first I must find Milborne and my cousin. I'd searched Gretna Green and inns within the vicinity where they could possibly be staying, but there wasn't a trace of them," his lips twisted into a wry smile. "What a madman I must have looked, like a desperate lover set on claiming his runaway love."

"I personally think that it is Mislington's duty to run after his daughter, not yours."

He shook his head. "Still, my mind won't rest until I am certain of there whereabouts."

"And what was the Countess' say to the matter?"

"Oh, she had a lot to say, I assure you," Stokeford scowled. "You know how she is when her precious plans are being upset. Now she's gone to Bath for some respite, I suppose."

"Is that so? Good for her! You should follow suit as well— no, I mean not Bath. God knows it will be very dull for you there. But—oh yes! That puts me in mind of something!" March's eyes filled with excitement, and grinning, he stood up and walked towards the credenza. He pulled a small drawer open, and rummaged through its contents for a while. With a triumphant shout, he grabbed a letter and waved it to his friend. "Good tidings for you, my dear fellow! Or perhaps you've heard the news already?"

Stokeford's brows furrowed. "What good news? I hardly heard any other than distressing ones."

"Well, this letter came to me yesterday and it was from Desmund Clayton. Why, Miss Winscott and he are already engaged!"

"That's hardly surprising, but I am happy for them, of course. Are they in Bath then?"

March pored over the letter once more, saying, "Yes, but they were just visiting. He says he will like it very much if we could have the chance to visit Claredon, his home in Somerset, one of these days. He also tells me to relay his regards for Milborne and Miss Carstairs when you see them," he looked up and added pensively: "I am not sure why he specifically meant you to do it when I could very well do it myself. Though of course, since both are out of town at the moment, I can't. What an odd fellow, Clayton. He even sketched a direction."

"What I find odd," returned Stokeford, "is that to the best of my knowledge he and my cousin hasn't yet met so why relay his regards to her as though they already made each other's acquaintances? Unless," he stared curiously at the letter in March's hand and reached for it, and read it himself. Afterwards, he continued: "Unless, of course, Marianne chanced to — oh, yes, it could be!" Seemingly lost to this utterance, March stared hard at Clayton's words. "Miss Winscott is currently a guest at Clayton's house, I assume?" added Stokeford meaningfully.

Realization struck, and the Viscount gave a triumphant hoot. "Egad! You don't mean to tell me that — "

"Our quarries had been there," he nodded. "Or, if I am not mistaken, could still be there. They are intimate friends of Miss Winscott, and there is a likelihood of Milborne seeking help from that quarter. Possibly, Clayton had intended this letter to drop a hint, for why should he send the direction and said very particularly to come there sooner?"

"If that don't beat all!" struck the Viscount.

"Yes, and what a clever fellow Clayton is, to be sure. However, until we actually see them flesh and blood at Claredon, this is all but conjecture. All the same, there is no harm in giving it a shot."

Lord March nodded his assent, his eyes glinting. "What a merry chase they have been leading us! Very well. When shall we set forth?"

Stokeford told him that tomorrow would do very well and reminded that they would travel light. "For I want to get there as soon as possible," he said. They started early the next morning, only made one stop to partake of a rather hasty luncheon, and reached Claredon by late afternoon. Since no word had been sent to announce their visit, Milborne was astonished indeed when, peeping at the window of the charming sitting room where he, Marianne, and Sophie had been spending the better part of the afternoon playing cards, he saw the two riders trotting along the drive. "Thunder and turf, it's Stokeford!" he exclaimed, gaping.

Flinging the cards on the table, Miss Carstairs flew from her seat and scurried to the window, saying, with barely contained excitement, "Oh! Oh! How marvelous! It is he indeed, and Robert, too!"

Outside, they were met by Clayton, who came from the back of the house. He said apologetically while shaking hand with both of them: "How do you do? I am glad you came, though I would have preferred that you warned me of your arrival. I'd been checking on my little garden so forgive my very disheveled state."

"We decided to come as soon as March had apprised me of your letter. I had been absent from town for three days, and had just returned yesterday."

"Did you come down to Gloucestershire?"

"No. I'd been to Gretna," said Stokeford in a colourless voice.

Clayton's eyes widened. "Gretna?" he echoed, pardonably dumbstruck. "Forgive me, but why — who — ?"

Lord March chuckled. "My dear fellow, your reaction is very much suitable upon the occasion, believe me. No, he did not run away with some lovely damsel; rather, he was looking for a pair who, we believe, are guests in your house right now."

Clayton's brow's cleared and he smiled. "Ah. So I am right at first in guessing your object of coming here."

They started to mount the steps that led to the front door. March said warmly: "Not only that, but also to convey personally our felicitations on your betrothal. You couldn't have chosen a more wonderful lady for your bride."

The prospective groom blushed, and murmured his shy thanks. "We haven't announced it yet, though, as Mrs Winscott asks for a bit more time for us to be acquainted enough with each other. I don't mind that, in the least. I don't want to rush Miss Winscott into matrimony without letting her examine her heart deeply."

"Very wise," murmured Stokeford.

The door of the parlour was flung open, and Marianne all but ran and threw herself at her cousin. "Stefan! I am very happy to see you! And very much surprised, of course. It's so clever of you to find us here! How did you know about it, anyway?" she asked, barely pausing between words.

Stokeford cast a pointed glance at the sheepish Clatyton, then turned to her reprovingly: "It doesn't matter how, Mari. More importantly, why did you not say a word to me before embarking on this mad escapade? And where is that scoundrel Milborne?"

"Don't be mad at him, please! It was the only way we could think of for you and I to escape the horrid fate we both are dying to avoid. Isn't it very gallant of him? We are having a famous time in our sojourn here. Mr Clayton has been very kind to let us in."

"And may I tell you that while you are spending your famous time here," replied Stokeford witheringly, "I was having a devilishly difficult one in figuring out your whereabouts? We thought you had eloped with Milborne, and I am being held accountable by your father! However, I do not plan to spend the rest of the afternoon chastising you."