Never Trust a Rebel. Sarah Mallory

      ‘Is it ready to be served?’ Mr Bastion interjected, addressing the butler directly.

      Aston bowed. ‘Why yes, sir. It only needs a word and it can be on the table in a trice.’

      ‘Then we should eat.’

      Elyse bridled. At this juncture any man of sensibility would withdraw and leave the family in peace.

      ‘I think not,’ she contradicted him. ‘I should go to Aunt Matthews.’

      ‘The mistress is sleeping, miss,’ said the butler, trying to be helpful. ‘Hoyle says Dr Carstairs gave her some laudanum before he left and doesn’t expect her to wake up for a couple of hours yet.’

      There was no hint of triumph in the smile her guest bestowed upon her, but Elyse still ground her teeth when he said with maddening calm,

      ‘Then we have plenty of time to dine and you can sit with your aunt afterwards.’

      ‘I am not hungry.’

      Elyse bit her lip. She sounded like a sulky child. What was it about Andrew Bastion that brought out the worst in her? She tried to be thankful that he appeared not to notice her bad manners.

      He replied in soothing tones, ‘Perhaps not, but it will do your aunt no good if you are fainting off from want of food.’ He rose and pulled her to her feet, then he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and patted it in an avuncular fashion.

      ‘Aye, that’s the ticket,’ chuckled Aston, taking advantage of his position as an old family retainer. ‘I’m sure you’ll feel more the thing with some food inside you, miss, and I’ll tell Hoyle to come and fetch you just as soon as the mistress wakes up.’

      There was nothing to be done but to comply. Elyse had to admit that by the time she had partaken of several of the dishes displayed and enjoyed a glass of wine she was feeling much calmer. Her guest behaved impeccably during the meal, conversing on light, unexceptional topics that neither angered nor embarrassed her and she found herself relaxing. Her mind was occupied with the plight of poor Aunt Matthews and she could think of little else.

      * * *

      They had finished their meal when Hoyle came in to say that Mrs Matthews was awake and asking for her niece. Elyse went off immediately, following Hoyle through corridors littered with trunks and cases to her aunt’s bedchamber. Aunt Matthews was propped up in the bed, one arm encased in plaster and resting on a mound of pillows. She was looking pale but composed in a nightgown and cap of frothy pink lace and when Elyse came in she held out her good hand, ignoring the maid who was fussing around her.

      ‘Oh, my dear, what a silly thing for me to do, I am so sorry.’

      ‘No, no, Aunt, you must not blame yourself. I am only relieved it is nothing worse. Dr Carstairs told me it would be a simple matter to set the arm and then you will be up and about again in no time.’

      ‘Yes, but not by tomorrow morning. I will not be able to get up for days.’

      Disregarding Hoyle’s tut of disapproval, Elyse perched herself on the edge of the bed and took the proffered hand. ‘You are not to worry about that. You can follow on as soon as you are well enough to travel.’

      ‘You plan to go without me?’

      ‘I must. Mr Bastion thinks the viscount would insist upon it.’

      ‘Well, there is no doubt that these great men are used to having their own way,’ agreed Aunt Matthews, sighing. ‘And you have been waiting so long I am sure you must be eager to see your beau again.’

      ‘I am of course.’ Elyse replied quickly, although now the moment was approaching she felt more than a little apprehensive. ‘But I would rather wait until you could come with me, Aunt.’

      A knock made her turn and she saw Andrew Bastion standing in the doorway.

      ‘I beg you will forgive the intrusion, ma’am?’

      ‘Yes, yes, come in, sir. Do not stand on ceremony.’ Mrs Matthews called to him, ignoring another disapproving sniff from Hoyle, who was tidying the pots and jars on the dressing table. ‘We must decide what we are to do about getting Elyse to London.’

      ‘My thoughts exactly, ma’am. I have hired a post-chaise to be here at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’

      ‘Could we not delay it a little?’ said Elyse. ‘I would like to know my aunt is improving before I leave Scarborough.’

      ‘Oh, I shall go on well enough, my love, you need not worry over me,’ said Aunt Matthews. ‘And the roads being as they are you will want to have as much time as possible for your journey.’

      This was very much what Andrew Bastion had told her, but it was no more palatable to hear it from her aunt.

      ‘I am sure another week would not hurt.’ Elyse fixed her eyes upon Mr Bastion. He met their challenge but would not capitulate and she felt her temper rising. ‘Mr Reverson’s letters tell me he is as eager as I am for us to be together, but if I explain everything I am sure he would understand if my arrival is a little delayed.’

      ‘But his father would not.’

      ‘Mr Bastion is right, my love. You must not give them any reason to reject you.’

      ‘You think they would cry off, over such a little thing? But William and I love each other.’ She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper. ‘Why, in his last letter to me he says he cannot wait for us to be united.’

      ‘That may be so, but there is no doubt that while this is a brilliant match for you the viscount might have looked higher for a bride for his younger son.’ Her aunt’s gaze had become disconcertingly shrewd. ‘If you want him, love, you must take him now, or it may be too late.’ She squeezed Elyse’s fingers, saying urgently, ‘This is a wonderful opportunity for you, my love. You must grasp it with both hands.’

      ‘I will, Aunt. I promise.’

      ‘Good girl.’ Aunt Matthews’s eyes were suspiciously bright and she blinked a little before turning her attention to the gentleman standing at the end of the bed. ‘My brother obviously thought a great deal of you, sir, to entrust you with the care of his only child.’

      He bowed. ‘I shall endeavour not to disappoint him, ma’am.’

      ‘Good. Now, Elyse will be ready to go with you tomorrow morning. And Hoyle shall accompany her.’

      There was a clatter as the maid dropped one of the hairbrushes.

      ‘That I won’t, ma’am. My place is here, with you.’

      Aunt Matthews gave an exasperated sigh.

      ‘Pray do not be tiresome, Hoyle. There is no one else to go with her.’

      ‘That’s as maybe, but I’ve been your maid for nigh on thirty years and I ain’t about to leave you now, not when you needs me.’

      ‘You’ll do as you’re told, Hoyle,’ snapped her mistress. ‘Or you can pack your bags and leave this minute.’

      The maid did not look unduly worried by this threat. Drawing herself up she said with dignity, ‘That’s for you to decide, ma’am, but I ain’t going.’

      She stumped to the door, closing it behind her with a bang.

      ‘Well,’ Mrs Matthews stared after her. ‘Of all the...she knows I won’t turn her off, of course, but all the same.’

      Elyse gave a little shrug. ‘Hoyle has always been a little jealous of me. But even if she were not, you really cannot expect her to leave you now, Aunt, when you are confined to bed.’

      ‘We must find some female to accompany you,’ stated Mr Bastion.

      Elyse was already smarting from Hoyle’s rejection, and the note of impatience in the gentleman’s voice only added to her