Lord Gilbert (Sons of the Marquess Book 5)

by Mary Kingswood

  Anger boiled over inside her, and she clutched at Gil with both hands. There was so much she wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. Except for one. “No,” she said.

  “Now, now, don’t be a silly goose. Father knows best, daughter.”

  Gil held her hands tightly, and she straightened her spine. “No.” More strongly this time.

  “Lady Gilbert is not going anywhere with you,” Gil said, in the same calm tones.

  “She is my daughter!”

  “And she is my wife, and there is an end to the matter.”

  “You were to bring her back to me! You promised! Two or three days, perhaps, to buy wedding clothes, and then she was to come home.”

  “No.” His tone was implacable. “Her home is beside her husband. She will never again live at Lavender Cottage, never, do you understand?”

  And Father seemed to collapse into himself, like a balloon losing air.

  Through the crowd came a small figure in pale figured muslin. “Why, how delightful this is! You are Lady Gilbert’s father, I understand? I am the Marchioness of Carrbridge. How do you do! Welcome to Drummoor. And you have come all the way from Kent to visit us. How charming.”

  Father’s mouth opened once or twice, but no sound came out.

  “Mrs Compton, pray prepare the mulberry room for Dr Hamilton. Crabbe, pay off the post chaise, if you please. Fitch, see to the gentleman’s luggage. Do come this way, Dr Hamilton. How fortunate that we have another physician staying with us just now, a Dr Hay. I am sure you will have a great deal in common. Was your journey a good one? The roads have been so bad this winter, but I am persuaded there has been much improvement over the last week or so, and I fancy we have seen the last of the snow.”

  This deluge of polite charm was so effective, that Father meekly followed her up the stairs and disappeared round the curve, although Lady Carrbridge’s voice could be heard for quite some time.

  Gil burst out laughing. “Carrbridge, your wife is incomparable.”

  “She is indeed,” one of the onlookers said. “I thought Gil would come to blows with the fellow.”

  “I am very sorry to disappoint you, Uncle Joshua,” Gil said.

  Genista felt weak enough to faint, but Gil still had his strong hand firmly over hers, warm and reassuring, so she took a deep breath and tried to be calm despite the crowd of people around her. Some were drifting away, but the rest pressed close.

  “Well, at least we avoided a mill in the entrance hall,” someone said — was it Lord Carrbridge? She thought it was. “But I was not aware you planned to see Lady Gilbert today, Gil.”

  Gil went very still. “I do not need your permission to see my own wife, Carrbridge.”

  There was a sudden tense silence.

  Someone — was it Lord Montague? — said softly, “Lady Gil seems perfectly happy with the arrangement, Carrbridge.”

  Lord Carrbridge looked at Genista, and then at Gil again, but his mouth was set in a harsh line.

  She had to speak! For if she did not, maybe Gil would be banished again, and she could not bear it. She lifted her chin. “I’m always happy to see Gil,” she said with dignity. Then, anxiously, “Please don’t send him away!”

  Lord Carrbridge’s face softened into a smile, and there was a ripple of laughter amongst those still gathered around them.

  “Typical Gil!” someone said. “Always did have a way with the ladies.”

  “Ah, he could charm honey from the bees,” someone else said, to more laughter. “Enjoy your honey, Gil!”

  “Ignore them,” Gil said quietly, smiling down at Genista in a way that made her stomach flutter oddly. “Shall we get away from this crush?”

  And he led her firmly out of the circle of onlookers and down a quiet corridor. She followed meekly, for he still held her tightly, although she had no desire at all for him to loosen his grip on her. It was so reassuring, being able to hold onto him in that way. Even Father could not terrify her when Gil was by her side.

  Did Father terrify her? She’d never thought of it in that way before. It had just seemed like the natural order of the world, that when Father was there, she was subdued, every faculty bent on not displeasing him. When he was away, she felt as free as air. But it was fear, there was no doubt about it. And now she was not afraid. Father could not order her life for her any more. Now it was for Gil to tell her what to do.

  He closed a door and she found that he’d led her into a darkened room. “Now, I am just going to open the shutters,” he said. “Do not run away, will you?”

  “Oh no, I shan’t,” she said, timidly.

  He let go of her, laughing. “I am teasing you, Gen.”

  “Oh.”

  He moved about in the darkness, and then there was light, and more light, as he threw open shutters and whisked aside the curtains. “There,” he said at last. “Sorry about all the dust. This room is hardly ever used. But look, I remembered this.”

  He took her hand, and led her through the mote-filled sunbeams to the far wall. A spinet!

  “Oh!” she breathed. “Just like Mama’s.”

  “Yes,” he said, smiling. “When I saw your room, I realised what it was missing. Would you like to try it? I daresay it is horribly out of tune.”

  It was, but it hardly mattered. Oh, the joy of music again! She played piece after piece from memory, her fingers flying over the keys. She didn’t sing, for her voice was not fully under her control yet, but the music alone was enough, for now. Gil said nothing, sitting on a sofa listening. Whenever she looked at him, he was watching her with an intensity which mystified her.

  The snick of the door opening made her jump.

  “Ah, here you are,” Lady Carrbridge said. “I have been looking for you, dear.”

  Genista jumped up so fast she almost knocked over the stool. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t know…”

  “How should you, indeed? But Gil is looking after you, so I was not in the least concerned. Now, dear, your father is settled, but I do not think he will like to eat with the family any more than you did. We are only thirty five for dinner tonight, but even so… And besides, you will want to catch up on family news. I thought you could have a quiet dinner elsewhere, in—”

  “Not alone with him!” Genista cried. “I could not!”

  “No, no! Gil will be there, of course, but who else? Perhaps Dr Hay and his sister, if you think your father might wish to talk to another medical man. Or there is Monty and Melissa — a clergyman, you know, most unexceptionable. Even your father could not object, for all Monty is the son of a marquess.”

  “Has he been holding forth about the iniquities of the nobility?” Gil said, laughing.

  Lady Carrbridge went rather pink. “He has some very decided opinions, it is true. And perhaps he was not quite aware of who I was, or he would surely not have spoken so of my husband. Or of you, Gil. He does not like you at all, which is very strange considering he insisted you marry his daughter. Perhaps the Hays would be best, then.”

  “And how about the chaplain?” Gil said.

  “Oh, yes! Poor Mr Bridlington! He has been taking a bowl of broth in his room, but that is just because… well, I am sure he will be very happy to… and that would make six. You would not mind a dinner for six, Genista? Perhaps at five o’clock? In the willow room, Gil.”

  She bustled out of the room in a flurry of pale skirts.

  When Genista looked up, she saw Gil watching her, a little smile playing on his lips. If only she knew what he was thinking! With Father, she had had years to learn his ways, and she understood the subtlest change in his mood, but Gil was a mystery to her, like her father’s Greek texts, where she could see the words very clearly but not understand the meaning. With Gil she could see emotions cross his face, and sometimes hear tones in his voice, but what did they mean? She had not the least idea. She blushed and lowered her head beneath his gaze.

  “No, do not do that,” he said, and she could hear the gentleness in his voice. “W
hat makes you look down like that?”

  She gave him a quick glance. “I… it seems as if I have done something wrong. When you look at me that way.”

  “I have told you, I look at you because the sight of you gives me great pleasure. But when you look down like that, it makes me feel as if I have offended you in some way.”

  “Oh, no, no! Nothing of the sort.” She looked up at him, but he was smiling at her in such a way—! She looked down at once, flustered. “But I do not know…” She tried another glance. He looked more serious now. “I should like to know… how I may please you.”

  “You please me very well just as you are.”

  “Oh.” She blushed even more fiercely. “But… I am not like the other ladies here. Do you wish me to dress like them?”

  “Not unless you wish to.” Again he smiled at her, in that heart-stopping way of his. “If you would like to be a lady of fashion, then Connie will be delighted to help you.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Oh, I see. Did your father tell you what to wear, and how to behave? Well, I shall not do so.”

  “You said I looked like a dowd. When we were in London. Oh, I beg your pardon…” His face changed and a bolt of fear shot through her.

  “Lord, did I? What a churl I was. That seems like a lifetime ago, before—” He stopped, his eyes not meeting hers.

  There was a long silence. Eventually she said, “So you do not mind? What I wear?”

  “You must dress as you feel appropriate, my love. You know yourself best.”

  My love. If only he meant that! But it was too much to hope for.

  Gil took her back to her room, but she had not been there half an hour when there was a knock at the door, followed by Gil’s smiling face peeping in.

  “Only me again. Where would you like this?”

  He opened the door a little wider to reveal two footmen carrying the spinet. Then there was the pleasure of finding a good place for it. The little sitting room would have been ideal, except for the oddly curved walls, and it was already crammed with furniture. Instead, she found a place in the main part of the bedroom by moving aside a large chest of drawers.

  “I forgot to bring the stool for it,” Gil said, as soon as the spinet was in position.

  “There is a footstool round the corner that will be just right,” she said. And so it proved. “Will you stay while I play?”

  And she thought there was genuine regret on his face. “Much as I should like to, I had better not. Besides, I have to get back to Merton’s house to change for dinner. We are eating early tonight.”

  “Oh, yes. Five o’clock, just as Father likes. I don’t know where the willow room is.”

  “I shall collect you… shall we say half past four? Very well, I shall see you then.”

  So it was that when Lady Humphrey returned, she found Genista alone, playing the spinet contentedly.

  Not long after that, Holland arrived to bathe her and dress her for dinner.

  “Your usual gown, my lady?”

  “Holland, what would you suggest? I don’t want to feel half-naked, but I don’t want to look like a dowd, either.”

  The maid’s face lit up in delight. “Oh my lady, if I might make so bold… Lady Carrbridge has an evening gown that would suit you to perfection, a dark blue merino wool that she wears occasionally for a family dinner, which is the exact colour of your eyes. May I fetch it?”

  Genista had to agree that it was perfect. With a few quick stitches, Holland fitted it more closely to her form. The bodice was lower than she liked, but a frothy piece of lace made a perfect fichu, and although the sleeves were short, a pair of soft evening gloves reaching above the elbow covered almost all her bare skin.

  “How shall I dress your hair, my lady?” Holland said. “You have such lovely hair, it seems such a shame to wind it so tightly around your head. May I leave a little of it loose, like this? And I brought a few ornaments… although something simple like this silver circlet might suit you best.”

  Genista allowed her to do as she pleased. The arrangement was simple enough, and far more so than the elaborate confections she had seen in London on Lady Dryton and her friends, yet it made her feel decadently stylish.

  When Gil arrived to collect her, his face lit up with a degree of admiration there was no mistaking. “How beautiful you look, Lady Gilbert,” he said, bowing formally to her. “I like your hair that way.” One hand reached out to touch the loose strands, but he pulled back quickly. “And I have brought you something… if you would like it…”

  The something was a delicate cameo.

  “Your mother?” she said as he carefully fastened it around her neck.

  “No. For some reason there is no likeness of my mother in existence. This was hers, however. It is her sister as a girl… Aunt Jane March. There! Do you like it?”

  “Oh yes! Thank you. How kind you are.”

  “It is only a trinket, really. Maybe if Connie has an hour to spare, we can go through the rest of Mama’s jewellery, and you can pick out a few pieces you like. Sapphires would suit your eyes best.”

  “Sapphires! I should never dare to wear anything so—”

  “So vulgar? You are quite right. Diamonds are the most elegant jewels, are they not?”

  For a moment she was shocked, but then she caught the twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, you are teasing me again.”

  “I am, rather. I beg your pardon. Are you ready, Lady Gilbert? Shall we go down and brave the lion in his den? Or at least, your father in the willow room.”

  She nodded, and he offered his arm with a warm smile. His light-heartedness lifted her spirits. The evening promised to be a difficult one, but she couldn’t be downcast when Gil was beside her. With an answering smile she took his arm.

  16: A Small Family Dinner

  Until she saw her father awaiting her in the willow room, Genista hadn’t realised how much she had changed already, whereas he was exactly as he always was. He had put off his daytime coat and waistcoat, and donned his Sunday version, but that was his only concession to the grandeur of Drummoor. Whereas Gil had bathed and changed into knee breeches and a coat that had clearly been fashioned by a London tailor. He looked resplendent, while her father looked tired and slightly shabby, like the provincial physician that he was.

  He sneered when he saw her. “Ha! All dressed up like these empty-headed London women, are you? You look like a—”

  “Lady,” Gil said sharply. “Your daughter looks like the lady she is, Dr Hamilton.”

  Genista said nothing, but she was not ashamed of her attire. Her gown was modest, and her hair was dressed very simply. It was pleasant to bathe and then change into a clean chemise, and put on a pretty gown for the evening, instead of racing through to the table, hot from the kitchen. On Gil’s arm, she felt very much like a lady. Holland had given her a fan to carry, although she had no idea how to use it. Mama had used one occasionally, she remembered, and Di had taken it with her on her ill-fated trip to Canterbury. Perhaps she still had it.

  Gil escorted her to a seat near the fire, and fussed about with screens, to ensure that she was neither scorched by the flames nor feeling a draught from the windows. How kind he was! Meanwhile, her father skulked back and forth, looking ill-tempered.

  The other guests arrived. Dr Hay she already knew, since he had been to see her several times during her illness. Miss Hay was very like him, thin and pale, and dressed in the sort of flimsy silk gown that all the ladies wore, although not so revealing as Lady Dryton’s.

  “How lovely to see you looking so well, Lady Gilbert!” she cried, almost before she was properly in the room. “I declare, I was so worried about you that first night, for you looked pale enough to faint at any moment.” She plumped herself down beside Genista. “But Perry has got you in health and looks again. Or is that Lord Gilbert’s influence?” she added, in a whisper. “See how he watches you! He is quite in love, I can see.”

  Genista blushed, findi
ng herself entirely unequal to answering this onslaught. But when she dared to look, he was watching her, and with that little smile on his lips that made her heart beat a little faster. Oh, if only he were to fall in love with her! How happy she should be. But that was just Miss Hay’s fancy. She knew where Gil’s tastes lay, and it was not with a dowdy nobody like her.

  Dr Hay engaged her father in conversation, and the final guest slunk quietly into the room. Mr Bridlington was a young man of no more than twenty-five, his hair already beginning to recede. Gil chatted to him, but he seemed unwilling to respond. It was, perhaps, a relief to everyone when the footmen arrived and began laying out the first course.

  The willow room was a long rectangle with a high ceiling decorated with cherubs half hidden by foliage and exotic birds. The wallpaper reflected the same penchant for birds, although this time set amidst the willows that gave the room its name. Around the walls, gilt-painted urns and classical statuary alternated with glass cabinets housing arrays of stuffed birds. One end of the long room was arranged as a sitting room and the other was fitted with a small, round dining table.

  Once the dishes were in place, one of the footmen announced dinner, and Gil led Genista on his arm towards the dining table, ushering her to a seat and himself taking the seat beside her. He waved Miss Hay to the seat on the other side of him, but the others were left to sit however they would. It didn’t surprise Genista when her father sat next to her, glowering at her bare arms as she removed her gloves preparatory to eating.

  It wasn’t as intimidating a meal as she had feared. Dr Hay dominated the conversation, talking at length about the new hospital which was being built to his design in Sagborough, and that was a neutral enough topic to avoid any dissent. Gil helped her to the various dishes, and Father didn’t notice when she accepted some of the beef, and then a little pheasant. She even sipped the red wine that the footman poured for her.

  It was only when the first course had been removed, and everyone was losing interest in the second that matters became contentious. Father mentioned leeches, and Dr Hay immediately said, “Ah, I no longer leech or bleed any of my patients, Dr Hamilton. I have observed how much the loss of blood may weaken even the strongest constitution.”