His to Keep (Regency Scoundrels Book 2)

by Mathews, Marly

  “You should have thought about that before you put on that bloody performance for Gemma and the rest of her family. They think you’re all frog.”

  “Pah, I was once proud of that life, but my experiences during the war soured me on that. I want to be British, I want, I want to marry a British lass, and have British babies, even if the British lass is a bit cold. I want people to call me the Earl of Lustleigh instead of calling me that Marquis bastard.”

  “That’s a very good title for you,” she could hear Archie laughing.

  “It is,” Louis-Daniel said. “And…And I think that I should like to drop the Louis in my name and go with just Daniel.”

  “Well, you’d better start acting like a British prick instead of a French prick,” Archie muttered.

  “I shall,” she heard Louis-Daniel burp loudly and then, Archie groan. Had he fallen over and Archie had to catch him?

  “What’s come over you, Louis-Daniel? You’re not just drunk…you’ve…you’ve been into the opium!”

  “Bloody right I have, and I’m high on life.”

  “We cannot let Mama or Papa see you like this, they will be livid with you, and you can kiss ever seeing another pound from Papa.”

  “If only my natural mama’s uncle would kick the bucket. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. His estate isn’t entailed, and I’m his only living heir…so it can come to me...and his lands are vast stretching over several counties. I could live like a king.”

  “Just remember how your king went out,” Archie said dryly.

  “He was never my king…that’s why the British Crown gave me my earldom, of course. They knew where my true loyalties lied.”

  “Come on, old chap, let’s get you to your bedchamber. Stop being such a dead weight, Louis-Daniel. You are like a bloody anchor pulling me down.”

  “You’re big enough to take my weight, don’t be such a little twiddle poop,” he scoffed, his words slightly slurred.

  “If I’m a twiddle poop, then, you’re a coxcomb, and you piss more than you drink.”

  “I do not boast without reason, and I doubt I piss more than I drink, although, now that I think on it, I do need to take a piss, I also feel a little…a little out of sorts.”

  “Don’t you dare cast up your accounts. I shan’t have that all over me, and when you flash the hash, you get sick everywhere.”

  “I won’t,” Louis-Daniel muttered. “I need to fly a kite, mate. I need to fly a kite—I’m sick of being a penniless earl.”

  “Why don’t you go and woo yourself an heiress?”

  “I could do that to raise some gingerbread. I’m rather sick of being a cucumberish fellow. I don’t know about your wife though, I sort of feel sorry for you that you have to Dance the Goat’s Jig with that. I can tell you I wouldn’t want to tup that…no, sir, I wouldn’t want to whap that. And if you Ride the Dragon, she won’t have much jiggling in your face, will she? Or…wait, when the woman’s on top they also call it the Dragon Upon St. George…so you can both be the dragon, can’t you? She’s rather lacking in the apple dumpling shop, ain’t she? Her pillows are barely there. Where shall you lay your head when it’s all over?”

  Indignation stirred within Gemma, as her face burned. She wanted to thrash Louis-Daniel soundly. “Oh, yes, brother, dear, I left a lady who isn’t really a lady waiting for her payment outside…so if you’d be a good chap and go and take care of that…”

  “I will, once I see you safely to your bedroom.”

  “And I think I might have insulted a trollop’s husband…or was he her lover? Can’t recall, anyway, I think I might have thrown down the gauntlet with him.”

  “You’re in no state to be fighting duels, and how do you find such trouble in such a place? Who, who did you enrage this time?”

  “I don’t remember,” he said. “You’re such a good little brother.”

  “I’m bigger than you, Louis-Daniel.”

  “Aye, but you’re younger than me. I wish I had been born as the heir, without my bit of French blood to muddy the waters.”

  “Now that’s just utter rot,” Archie scoffed.

  “I’m rattling on about nothing, I guess,” Louis-Daniel sighed. Shuffling footsteps moved toward Archie and Louis-Daniel’s location. She hoped she was hidden away so no one would see the glow of her candles, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “Your Lordships, can I be of assistance?” The sleepy butler’s voice echoed through the entryway.

  “Nothing is amiss, Pettigrew. You can go back to bed.”

  Pettigrew yawned. “Thank you, sir. Are you certain you don’t require a few of the footmen to help you out? I could get Lord Lustleigh’s valet up…”

  “No, no. That isn’t necessary. I can manage on my own, thank you, Pettigrew. Now off to bed with you,” Archie said.

  “Yes, my lord,” she could imagine the butler bowing and soon, she heard him shuffling away. He sounded older than Ainsworth.

  Lord Lustleigh. Where had she heard that name before? Someone used to use that name saying that he was their nephew…

  Finally, the title jiggled her memory. She knew his uncle! Lawks, her family knew Louis-Daniel’s uncle. There wasn’t a kinder more generous soul in the world. He had given them gifts during the lean years that had dogged them after Geoffrey Woodward had taken their family fortune. She remembered him boasting about his nephew, the newly created Earl of Lustleigh…the celebrated war hero…the man had served with such distinction that he had earned himself a peerage. Now, she felt sick to her stomach. She might just flash her hash, Archie wouldn’t have to worry about Louis-Daniel doing it.

  “Archie, could you move a little faster in hoisting my arse up the stairs? I’m getting quite dizzy, and I’m awfully tired.”

  She was so angry her one eye was twitching. She wanted to go out and confront them, but something told her to remain hidden, and yet, how would Archie get his brother up that immense staircase alone? If they should fall…no, she wouldn’t allow her husband to break her neck for that devilish scoundrel.

  Dashing forward, she emerged where Archie could see her. His eyes settled on her briefly, he looked as if he was going to fight her, and then caught himself, and stopped, his expression changed, and gave her a wink.

  Archie had Louis-Daniel supported, and he was dragging his limp form toward the stairs. Fixing her gaze on Louis-Daniel, she noticed that he’d already passed out.

  “It won’t take long to get him settled for the remainder of the night.”

  “How often do you do this sort of thing?” she asked softly, careful not to raise her voice too high lest she awaken Louis-Daniel.

  “Usually, whenever Louis-Daniel is in residence here on the island. He’s notorious for this. Mama and Papa will be terribly upset if they see him like this, so I try to hide it from them. Fortunately, my parents either do not hear us, or they pretend they haven’t heard us.”

  “You lied to me,” she muttered, eyeing him warily out of the corner of her eyes.

  “What did I lie to you about this time?” he asked good-naturedly.

  “You led me to believe that your brother was all French.”

  “Oh, he’s more French than me,” Archie laughed. “His father, the man who claimed him as his son was French, of course, he didn’t get any blood from him, but Louis-Daniel’s mother had a French mother and an English father. I’m not certain how she came to marry a Frenchman, as she grew up in England, and I’ve never asked Louis-Daniel. I don’t even know if he knows, although I suppose it wasn’t unheard of.”

  “So, he played the part of Frenchie for us,” she said, her lip curling.

  “He did that because he believes he sounds more menacing as a Frenchman. He doesn’t think that his voice sounds threatening enough with his English accent. He says, he says that people tell him he sounds like a different person when he is speaking French or English with a French accent.”

  “He did, he did sound menacing back at the Abbey,” she shuddere
d. “His voice, his voice becomes so much kinder when he’s using the English accent.”

  “He’s a child of both worlds,” Archie murmured. “But he’s been with our family since the National Razor took his parents. Fortunately, he was visiting his uncle in England when the Reign of Terror took hold, and his parents perished. After that his uncle wanted to keep him and raise him, but my father and mother claimed him instead. I think…I often wonder if maybe…if maybe he would have been happier with his uncle. His uncle was childless, and I know he would have lavished him with love, and…”

  “Other things?” she asked, smiling. “Yes, I think he might have. Lord Hawick is a wonderful man.”

  “You know him?”

  “Indeed. Your brother was quite lucky not to have found his uncle at Welford Abbey when the two of you attacked us. Wouldn’t that have surprised Louis-Daniel, eh?”

  “So…he’s a family friend,” Archie muttered. “Blast and damn. We really cocked this whole thing up, didn’t we?”

  “Just a little bit,” she said, sighing. “If Louis-Daniel inherits his uncle’s properties, he will see quite a lot of the St. Martins.”

  “That might not be to his liking,” he chuckled.

  She bit her lower lip, and glanced at Archie quickly. He seemed so different now. A burden had been lifted off his shoulders, and she liked the new Archie. She prayed he wouldn’t go back to the darkly brooding man that he had once been.

  They were sharing a moment, and that moment was shattered with Louis-Daniel’s first loud snore and then, he let out a loud fart.

  “Oh, he’s a real charmer,” she said.

  “He is, isn’t he?”

  “How can he fall into such a deep sleep so quickly?”

  “It’s a talent of his. He can nod off wherever or whenever, no matter what sort of conditions he’s under.”

  “Oh, my, the portraits here are exquisite. I must come and explore these halls better tomorrow.”

  “I shall join you. Right now, let’s just get this heavy sod into his bed. He feels like he’s got rocks in his arse.”

  She walked quickly in front of him so she could open Louis-Daniel’s door for him.

  “It’s locked,” she gasped.

  “I’ve got to get him in and then I have to go and pay that little tart he’s left waiting in her carriage. Just give me a minute.” Placing Louis-Daniel so that he was slumped against the wall, Archie started searching the man’s pockets. He pulled out an ornately decorated snuffbox, that played a tune when he opened it, a purse, a watch, a small box of licorice, and then finally, keys. “I swear he carries everything he can possibly stuff into his pockets. Stand aside, Gemma.” Quickly, he unlatched the door and pushed it open.

  “Come on you little bastard, let’s get you all snug and warm in your bed.”

  He grunted, heaving Louis-Daniel up again. “I always say this, but I’m done with carting your arse around, brother mine.” He walked over to the four-poster bed and dumped him on the bed. Louis-Daniel’s head knocked against the one poster. “Sorry about that, Louis-Daniel. If you’re head hurts in the morning, it’s all your fault.”

  She moved the candelabrum and inhaled sharply at the sight of a breathtaking portrait. The woman’s dark luminescent eyes bored right into her soul. She had the most unnerving expression on her face. It almost looked as if she couldn’t decide between sneering and remaining complacent.

  “Who is that in the portrait?”

  Archie followed her arm holding the candelabrum. “That’s Louis-Daniel’s natural mother. She was quite a beauty, wasn’t she?”

  “She has such a mournful look in her eyes. You can tell she had to have been a tortured soul.”

  “Perhaps, she was tortured. I’ve heard gossip that said that the Marquis, wanted an heir, so he sent his wife out to find a man who would bed her and give her a child. Apparently, he knew he was the one that…couldn’t sire children…”

  “So, he made certain that his wife had a child he could claim as his own.”

  “It all came to nothing. The Revolution made it all rather redundant,” he sighed.

  “Still, if she hadn’t done that if her husband hadn’t asked her to do that, Louis-Daniel wouldn’t exist.”

  “Indeed,” Archie said.

  “He looks to live a lavish life,” she said, looking at Louis-Daniel’s fine clothing. “He is more of a dandy than you.”

  “Aye, but he’s not fop, or coxcomb or twiddle poop.”

  She giggled at the last bit of slang that he imparted to her. “What does that last one mean?” she asked.

  “It describes an effeminate looking fellow.”

  “Well, Louis-Daniel certainly is beautiful, but I do not think he looks like a woman.”

  “Come, you should go back to our chambers, and I’m off to pay the little peculiar off.”

  She smiled at him, glancing one last time at Louis-Daniel before he gently ushered her from the room.

  “I’ll just dash downstairs and then, I’ll be back in a blink.” He winked at her, and ran off down the hall.

  Sighing again, Gemma looked around at her surroundings. Now, she had to figure her way back to their bedchamber.

  Plucking up her stamina, she tried to retrace her steps. When she finally recognized her surroundings, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Far down the hall, she heard a little boy talking.

  Charles.

  She walked toward the voice, and stood looking in at the scene unfolding before her.

  The Duke and the Duchess sat with Charles and it looked as if they were telling him a story.

  “Then what happened to the troll?” he asked, stopping as he sensed Gemma’s presence.

  “Aunt Gemma!” He sat up and lunged himself into her arms. “Come and listen to the story. It’s a fascinating tale. There was a great crash a few minutes ago, did you fall?” he asked innocently.

  She laughed. “Not I, but someone shall have a sore backside come the morning,” she said, tussling his hair. He looked better than she’d ever seen him. His cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were sparkling.

  Isla sat in a far corner of the room. Charles wasn’t in a nursery, it was just a regular bedchamber but Isla had taken to looking after him as if she was his nursemaid. She wondered if Charles was better off here than he had been with Mallory.

  “I heard that thunderous bang and I thought that we were under attack. Isla assured me that wasn’t so, and the Duchess said that it was probably the sound of trolls fighting in a far off realm, and the echoes had reached our world.”

  “Indeed.” Gemma suppressed a smile, for the lighthearted story obviously had Charles convinced. Soon, he too, would believe in the world of fairies, and maybe, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Charles had seen far too much in his young life, and if he could recapture the childhood that he had almost lost, she was all for it.

  “Charles, come, let Isla and I get you settled in for the night,” Margaret murmured, extending her hand to him. The Duke sat in his chair, a serene expression on his pleasant visage. His eyes kept closing, and he looked as if he was fighting the urge to go to Bedfordshire.

  She should have felt like an intruder, and yet she had the strangest sensation she felt as if she was home. There was part of her that warred with that notion telling her that her home was back in Sussex, she was a St. Martin and she shouldn’t embrace her life as a Campbell so easily—so why was she?

  “I never had the chance to thank you for helping me during my hours of need. Thank you, Isla.”

  Isla nodded her head crisply. “No need to thank me, my lady. My life is devoted to the family within these walls. You are part of that family now, and I’ll never let you down.” She smiled at her, and walked toward Charles. “Come my wee man, we must get you back to sleep, or else you won’t be able to finish building that tree house with Archie tomorrow.”

  “I should think that Charles should come with me tomorrow, I should like some company, and I think that
Charles will make a grand escort,” Margaret mused.

  “I will.” He smiled. “I’d like to see more of the island anyway. I mean the grounds you have here are really nice, but I’m starting to feel a bit caged in. I can see the sea, though, and that’s what matters to me. I always like to be near water.”

  Gemma started to softly walk backwards so she could leave the room without much further disruption.

  Margaret shuffled quickly toward her. “Oh, I daresay you look as if you’re fully recovered, my dear. It is good to see. We have had such a grand time here since you arrived.”

  Skye jumped onto the end of Charles’s bed and settled back down for the night. Obviously, during her illness Skye had become Charles’s faithful companion.

  “Is he settled in, then?” She looked over Gemma’s shoulder down the dark hallway.

  “You mean, Louis-Daniel?”

  “Aye. I knew that was he making that dreadful noise. It scared Charles. I wish that Louis-Daniel could give up that part of his life. I had to calm the poor lad down and pray that Archie had heard it also. I don’t know what I would do without Archie. When he isn’t around, it’s such a bother to get the footmen awake so they can drag Louis-Daniel to his room. His father and I tried to do it once, and I couldn’t move for days afterward as it wrecked my back.”

  Gemma frowned. “You might not want to tell Archie that. He’s under the impression that Louis-Daniel only debauches himself like this when he’s in residence.”

  Margaret sighed. “Unfortunately, Louis-Daniel’s behavior does not change, no matter where we are. It truly does become tedious at times, but I don’t know how to cure him of it. He’s got such a terribly reckless streak in him—” Margaret broke off in mid-sentence her eyes lighting with joy. “I often wonder if he needs a lady to tame him. I confess I do not know how he could settle for one woman, he likes to make love to all of the ladies,” she sighed mournfully.

  Archie walked into the room, having taken care of both Louis-Daniel and his lady-bird.”

  “Archie!” She breathed. “It’s good to see you, son. Come, husband dear, we must away to our own bed. You look quite worn out.”