Tempest awoke in stages.
Light streamed through the open door, and voices-loud, rough, masculine voices-sounded.
At first, she didn't move, feeling drowsy with the kind of restful sleep the night after heavy exertion. She wondered vaguely why there were such loud men talking outside her window.
Then, she jerked awake with a start.
Tempest hurled the grimy blankets off her to find an arm looped around her middle. She flushed so red that she could have set the entire stables on fire, except she then suddenly realized that it was Saintignon next to her, and that his entire body was spooning hers, thus explaining the delicious heat. His leg was tangled in the skirt of her long cloak that she hadn't taken off the night before, and his face was buried in her neck.
She elbowed him off and leaped off the cot just as the voices grew closer.
"-where could he be?" a voice was saying. A different voice. A light, cultured voice. It was a voice that made Tempest freeze in her steps.
"He wasn't seen all day yesterday, but his curricle is in the stables. His horses, though, appear to be stabled together, and very unhappy with the treatment they received last night they are as well-" Lord Marchmont was saying only moments before he, Lord Nigel, two gentlemen that Tempest did not recognize, and two stablehands walked past the groom's room and stopped short at the sight of her.
"Well, Saint can't be too far off without his horses," came the light mocking tones of Lord Nigel.
"Miss Makepeace," Lord Marchmont said, rocking back on his heels in surprise. "What an interesting…" he drifted off as his eyes traveled past her rumpled appearance to rest on the cot and the unmistakable sleeping figure of Saintignon.
Tempest knew she wasn't helping herself when she stood, stock-still and unmoving, under the gaping eyes of the group of men.
It was the scandal of the century.
If Saintignon wasn't ruining her name one way, Tempest thought bitterly that he managed to do it another way.
Try as she might to explain her actions of the night before, of Saintignon's clear illness, of the creek overflowing, the flooded bridge, of the million and one reasons why she was caught the morning after standing next to the sleeping figure of Dominic Saintignon, Tempest knew that she was well and truly ruined, and she had done it to herself.
Unluckily for her, it seemed the entire county had known of her disappearance, as the Kadenburies had been worried about her disappearance and had sent word back to the Fair. Almost everyone had been set to search for her, nobody at the Fair having seen her after her leaving with the Kadenburies.
It was after a damning interview with the unsuspecting landlord and landlady of the inn that the situation turned less dire and decidedly more salacious. For now it was reported that Tempest Makepeace had last been seen in the company of Dominic Saintignon, and riding off in a curricle with him. Alone, unchaperoned, and at night.
All signs pointed to an elopement.
"The light's too poor for an elopement," Lord Marchmont had remarked when he could be found. "Not to mention the road conditions are decidedly inconducive to a successful elopement."
"Besides which," drawled Lord Nigel. "There's no bloody chance in hell that our Saint is eloping with anyone."
"There is no need for an elopement with Saintignon," Lord Marchmont continued. "Why should any father disapprove of him?"
"She's ruined!" was Sarah's aghast and titillated cry.
"She can't be with him," protested Albie.
Everyone chimed in with their theories, but nobody had thought to check the stables of the Ferris manor until the next morning.
Lord Marchmont had been entertained by a lovely widow of dubious reputation in town and had not returned to the manor at all. Lord Nigel had been obliged by the flooded creek to stay at the Kadenburies for the night. The doctor stayed there also. The number of servants at the Ferris manor had been reduced after the departure of Lady Susanna, and the rest was given a full day off on account of the Fair, unbeknownst to Saintignon.
The head groom had taken an extended leave three days ago and left the running of the stables to Jim Groom, who helped out at the Fair and thus did not returned to the manor until the early hours, during which he immediately reported the curious stabling of Saintignon's team to milords Marchmont and Nigel.
Marchmont and Nigel had returned that morning and was even then with the squire and local solicitor when Jim Groom brought news of Saintignon's horses. The group then descended en masse on the stables, the squire being desirous of seeing the Four Horsemen's equipage.
It was a curious and improvident turn of events that led to Tempest's current situation.
"Oh, the deuce," groaned Marchmont, and immediately removed the squire and
the solicitor from the premises.
The two stablehands with Jim Groom gawked and leered and slinked off together.
Lord Nigel remained, leaning against the doorway and smirking.
"Was this the urgent appointment for which you left Kadenbury's sleigh last night?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Far be it from me to judge…"
"No, as you very well know!" Tempest exploded. "He...we ended up here by accident! Why was there no one at the main house? Saintignon nearly crashed the team yesterday. He's suffering from fever!"
It was a very garbled stream of sentences, but Lord Nigel frowned at the last sentence and moved forward to touch Saintignon's forehead.
"He's all right now," he said, looking at Tempest with a look that made her want to kick him and sink into the floor simultaneously.
Tempest reached forward to feel Saintignon's face for herself. His fever had receded.
"How could it be…?" she asked, half to herself. "He was almost delirious last night! He stumbled and almost fell into the creek. I had to drive that unwieldy thing myself yesterday! At night! In the dark, all along the lane! He almost fell out! I-I had to drag him in here, stable the horses myself! I've never stabled a horse in my life!"
"Saintignon…stumbled?" Lord Nigel said in disbelief.
"I tell it true, he was ill immediately after dining at the inn and I was afraid that he would run us into a ditch."
"I suppose if he had been ill, that would have been the only reason for him to stumble and drive poorly. Saint drives to an inch, you know. This tale won't stand up at all, and if it's not you, Miss Makepeace, trying to compromise him, then Saint is the one who has been making improper advances."
She was speechless with helplessness and fury, not to mention sleepiness.
Lord Nigel surveyed her and sighed. "Well, I believe you, but thousands wouldn't."
"What can I do?" she asked in desperation.
"You've been well and truly compromised," he said grimly. "And I can't say that Saintignon will do the honorable thing. In fact, he probably won't. Many's the lass who's tried it and failed-"
"I don't want him to do the honorable thing by me!" she cried. "He's brought me nothing but misery from the moment I laid eyes on him! But now, for an act of mercy I rendered him, I'll have lost my reputation as well!"
Lord Nigel didn't respond, but he favored her by silently and compassionately taking her back to the Kadenburies and explaining in several short sentences that Saintignon had been taken ill and that Tempest had stayed to care for him.
"I didn't!" Tempest interrupted. "I didn't want to care for him at all! Only-only I had no way of returning, don't you see? The creek… His fever..." Tempest babbled desperately.
Lord Nigel said grimly that Saintignon had not awoken from his fevered or foxed sleep, and that Tempest was well and truly caught in a dilemma. Tempest was so distraught that she didn't know where to look.
Mrs. Kadenbury saw immediately and rushed forward to wrap arms around her. "My poor dear, what a night you've had. Sophie dear, please help Tempest to her room and ask the servants to bring her a hot bath. She's gone through a horror of an evening."
As Tempest let herself be taken away, she was aware of hushed voices discussing her rumpled state.
"I believe you, Tempest," Sophie said in a small voice once they were ensconced in her room. "Only…this is very serious, is it not? They have been discussing this ever so long, and all yesterday as well."
"Yes," Tempest replied bitterly, wishing she could sink into the tub of water, let the water cover her head, and never come out.
"Will it…will it be all right?" Sophie asked worriedly.
"I hate that man!" Tempest finally said through gritted teeth. "I hate that man so much!" she shouted and burst into tears.
It was the first time she had cried since she was fifteen and the family pet died.