Hareton Hall: Richard and Rose, Book 6

by Lynne Connolly

  “He felt such a jolt it shook him through, and it shook me too. I knew it was something reflected from him, but I thought it was your sister, and desire, not love.”

  “I thought he wanted Lizzie too.” I hadn’t much cared at the time. Not until later.

  “But it was so strong, and he was so bewildered by it I knew it must be something else,” Gervase went on. He crossed his legs and rested his elbows on the arm of the chair, putting his chin on his hand. In Richard, it would have been a consciously elegant movement, but in Gervase, it appeared unstudied and natural. “It didn’t happen to me like that. It’s been more gradual, but just as strong.”

  I began to understand where this was leading, and it was my turn to feel a jolt. How could I have missed this? I waited for him to continue, trying not to show my anxiety.

  “You must have seen—you must know how I feel about your brother,” he said in a rush. He sighed and looked away, waiting for me to say something.

  “I’m a fool, Gervase. I thought it was friendship. Ian has never—never shown a partiality, for man or woman, and I never thought…”

  “It is friendship.” I met his clear blue gaze without flinching, but I said nothing. “I find him the perfect companion. His mind is far finer than mine and he pushes me to the limit of my intellectual capacity. But there’s something else there, Rose, at least for me.”

  I found this unbearably painful. I loved Gervase and my brother. I couldn’t bear to see either hurt, but I feared so much that one of them would be. “You’re sure?” I asked, desperately hoping that he had doubts.

  He nodded. “I’m absolutely sure. I’ve only felt like this once before, only once, and that led to tragedy. Or farce, depending on how you look at it.”

  His wry smile made this harder for me somehow. He’d been bitterly hurt, so much that he couldn’t think properly for a long time afterwards, or so he’d told me. I knew how I’d have felt if I’d not been able to marry Richard.

  “Have you told him?”

  “No,” said Gervase. “I think he is of the same mind, but I can’t be sure. When I remember what happened last time I fell in love, I know I’d better take more care this time. What shall I do, Rose? Shall I go away, forget him, or at least not tell him? I don’t want to lose his friendship, but being so close to him and not being able to—” He broke off and covered his eyes.

  We sat there for a few moments in silence while I thought it over. I heard the ticking clock on the mantelpiece, the occasional clink and thump as the maids went about their work upstairs in the bedrooms. I tried to compare his situation with mine, when I’d first met Richard, and how we felt about each other now. “You’re entering Parliament next month.”

  “If he accepts me, we’ll always need to be circumspect. I know that. We can never announce our love as you did in Exeter Cathedral that day.”

  “We did our best to conceal that part of it.”

  “Those of us who knew you best could see it.”

  “Did that include his mistresses?” I’d always been curious about that.

  “Oh yes,” he confirmed with a smile. “Those especially. He only ever chose married ladies to…spend his time with, but some of them were jealous anyway. One or two convinced themselves he would resume his affairs once he’d safely put you in the family way, but most saw what I saw that day. He was taken, irrevocably. By you.”

  “Oh he must hate that!” I cried. “He doesn’t like everyone to know his business.”

  Gervase laughed. “You two are so protective of each other. Of course we know, Rose. Those of us who care for both of you could see from the beginning. And that day I think he forgot, just for that time. He chose to marry you in public, and that’s when the rumours began to die down. You make a striking couple, but an acceptable one.”

  I grinned back at him, acknowledging the truth of his words, and some of the tension in the room dissipated. “And now you have a similar problem. How to conceal something in public that you don’t want everyone knowing. In Richard’s case, it’s because he dislikes everyone knowing his business. I don’t care who knows, but I take my lead from him in that. It matters to him a great deal, his public mask, even now. Perhaps you should consider doing that.”

  Gervase shook his head. “We can’t let people see, you know that. It’s illegal, Rose, it’s not just considered wrong. People are hanged for it. I have two problems. How to ask him, find out how he feels about me without giving offence. However he feels about me, I’d hate to lose him as a friend. His mind is one of the best I’ve ever come across and his company is a delight.”

  “That’s my brother you’re discussing,” I reminded him. “Do you think your family is fatally attracted to ours?”

  “Perhaps.” He steepled his long fingers in front of him, a characteristic I’d often seen in his brother. “Why not? The attraction I feel for him is certainly magnetic. You and Richard still touch each other a great deal, and I recognise that urge. I want to touch him, to—well.” He stopped lamely. “I won’t go on.”

  “You don’t have to. How do you propose to find out how Ian feels about you?” I laughed as he looked at me questioningly. “You want me to ask him for you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’d be in your debt, Rose.”

  “You can buy me another watch,” I said lightly.

  He put his hand in his pocket. “I’ve done that anyway.” He handed me a small leather box and settled back in his seat to watch me as I opened it.

  It was beautiful. It was gold with dark blue enamel over guilloche, little diamond set roses and leaves. I pressed the spring and found, inside the lid, a portrait of Richard, unmistakably Richard.

  “I love it. Gervase, thank you, it’s so beautiful.”

  “So are you, Rose. And so is what you’ve done for Richard.”

  I tore my gaze away from the beautiful thing before me to give my attention to Gervase. “Thank you so much.”

  He smiled. “Just a token of my affection. When I met Miss Cartwright I knew what he planned, how he’d control every aspect of his life, and I knew I’d never get him back. Your effect on him was like a whirlwind. You swept away the accretions of years.” He paused, and I stared at the portrait on the inner surface of the watch cover. “He had that miniature done while I was in India, and sent it to me. He wrote that he wanted me to see him in all his society glory, but the artist has caught something else there—don’t you think?”

  I smiled at the image. There was a quirk at the corner of the mouth I recognised, a tiny movement that he would allow himself in a crowded ballroom when something amused him. He was attired in the finest way imaginable, from the lace at his throat to the immaculately curled wig, but his eyes, clear and blue, and the sensuous mouth, held unspoken promise.

  I looked up again and found Gervase watching me. “A good likeness,” I commented.

  “Yes. And although we’re identical twins, that is so unlike what I was then you wouldn’t have recognised me. While Richard cavorted in society ballrooms I was sweating over columns of figures, or riding out to see some production line, totally careless of my appearance.”

  I laughed at the contrast he evoked. I made up my mind. “Of course I’ll ask Ian for you. What do you want me to say?”

  “Thank you, Rose. I want to know how he feels about all this without frightening him away. If all he can offer is friendship, I’ll take that gladly, but I’ll need to go away for a while to sort myself out. But if there’s the possibility of anything else—” He took a quick breath.

  “I’ll talk to him as soon as I can,” I promised him. “But what of the practicalities? If he decides to throw in his lot with you, how can you manage? Will you have separate houses—with interconnecting doors?”

  “And no servants?” He laughed at the thought. “No, Rose. We’ll come up with something. One thing at a time.”

  I told Richard later, when I went into his room before dinner. He sat at his dressing table which was festooned with bo
ttles, brushes and tiny silver containers. Every day he disordered it, and every day Carier put it back into military order. First I showed him the watch, and he smiled when he saw the miniature inside. “I’ve not seen this for a long time. I thought Gervase had lost it.”

  “Do you mind him giving it to me?”

  “No, of course not.” He paused. “It’s a generous gesture on his part.” He snapped the watch shut and returned it to me. I put it in its little leather case and then in my pocket. I might have a chain made for it, for safety. He looked into the mirror and smiled at me. “Had a good day?”

  “Except for missing Helen.”

  He turned to put his hand over mine where it lay on the back of his chair. “I know. I miss her too.”

  “Martha wrote again. She wants to come home, but I’ve told her to wait a few days longer. There haven’t been any more cases, just Barbara.”

  “Of course,” said Richard grimly. “We can be fairly sure where she got it from.”

  He drew his hand away and picked up his diamond solitaire from the table in front of him. I watched his concentration as he fixed it in the folds of his neckcloth.

  “Gervase wants me to speak to Ian for him,” I told Richard. “Do you know why?”

  “Yes,” said Richard. He shook the ruffles on his neckcloth, flicked them up with practised fingers. “I’d have been unconscious if I hadn’t known something was afoot there.”

  “He doesn’t know how Ian feels.”

  “Do you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you mind?” He stood and turned to face me. The opprobrium Gervase had received in his absence made Richard sensitive about the subject. He would take any criticism of his brother in this respect badly.

  I could be honest without upsetting him. “I’ve never known Ian to take an interest in either sex before. He’s always been too engrossed in his studies, or so I thought. Perhaps he hid something else all the time, something he’s been trying to hide from himself.”

  “Do you think he knows how Gervase feels about him?”

  “Ian? No, I don’t think so, but it’s hard to tell.”

  Carier came in from the dressing room bearing a lilac satin confection—Richard’s choice of coat for dinner. Richard nodded and went over to where Carier held his coat for him. The embroidery on his waistcoat glittered as he moved.

  “Gervase says he would be happy with Ian’s friendship,” I told him.

  He smiled. “As I’d have been happy with yours?” He held out his arm and let Carier pull out the ruffles at his wrists. “I’d have settled for it, but happy—no, my love, that’s an overstatement.”

  “You would have married Julia.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, holding out the other arm for Carier. “And been supremely miserable in my marriage. Instead of this.” He crossed the room to me and looked me over critically. He reached his hand up and adjusted my pearl and diamond necklace so it lay straight. I wore cream brocade tonight over cream embroidered silk. The colour was a terrible extravagance. Nichols had to launder it every time I wore it. It showed every speck of dirt, but it was one of my favourites.

  “Supremely happy.” He leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on my lips. “How can I deny the possibility of that to my brother?”

  After dinner, Richard contrived to bring Sir John to where I sat on my own after having played some music for the company. I smiled and invited him to sit next to me. I saw Gervase’s speculative look from the other side of the room where he was talking to Steven Drury, and sure enough before too long he wandered over to join us. Sir John studied the twins as they stood side by side. Richard put his chin up. “Yes?”

  “Yes,” said Sir John. “I beg your pardon, but the likeness is so striking. I don’t think I have ever seen you stand together before.”

  Richard glanced at Gervase, one eyebrow raised. “You wouldn’t be the first to remark on it.”

  “I can’t see how I could be,” Sir John answered. “But you have distinctive differences.”

  I watched him study the twins with his clear grey eyes, not at all disconcerted by the cool blue stares fixed on him.

  “You are no doubt longing to tell us what those differences are,” Richard drawled in his best society manner. He got out his snuffbox, offering the open box to Sir John who accepted a pinch. Richard took his time, helping himself to an infinitesimal pinch with one smooth, elegant gesture. Numerous young men aped his gesture but none managed to turn the shaking back of the sleeve ruffles, the exquisite pose of the hand, the dip into the box, the application to the nostrils, the other hand snapping the box shut into the one smooth gesture, except for my husband.

  The customary end to the performance was the restoration of the box to his pocket, but Sir John, with excellent timing, stopped him by saying, “Such a lovely box.”

  Richard smiled gently and held the now-closed box out to Sir John. “Thank you. My wife gave it to me last Christmas.”

  The box was of gold, in three colours, with a scene engraved on the lid of a little dog playing in a field. I’d got it for him because the work was so good, but I also remembered that a dog was a symbol of fidelity. That it pleased him so much pleased me—I knew him well enough by now to know that if he hadn’t liked it, he would have used it a few times and then put it away, but he carried it about with him a great deal.

  Sir John admired the craftsmanship on the box, smoothing his hand over it before he handed it back to Richard.

  “If you like fine things, you should ask Rose to show you the watch Gervase gave her today,” Richard said. I thought it adroitly done.

  I willingly reached into my pocket and pulled out the watch. I took it out of its protective soft leather case and put it in his hands.

  He examined it closely, running his fingers over the engraving on the lid and turning the instrument to see the guilloche enamel glint under the candlelight. He popped open the lid and examined the miniature inside.

  Richard stood in a seemingly casual pose, one leg slightly forward so I saw the muscle beneath the gleaming satin of his breeches. I looked up and thought how well the delicate lilac silk fitted his body, and how I’d like to run my hands over his back and his bare chest.

  Too late, I realised that he was watching me. By the light in his eyes and the turned-up corners of his mouth I saw that he knew the train of my thoughts. He had time to mouth later at me before Sir John looked up again. “This is wonderful work.”

  “Only just worthy of my sister-in-law,” Gervase said with his easy smile.

  I was used to extravagant flattery by now, and met his smile with one of my own.

  “Almost worthy of a lover,” Sir John said, seemingly casually.

  Gervase took a quick breath but before he spoke, Richard broke in. “Now there’s an image to conjure with. Twin brothers loving the same woman. Charming.”

  “That depends how far it goes.” Sir John watched Richard and Gervase closely.

  “Oh I don’t know.” Richard frowned, considering. “But I’m afraid I don’t choose to share my wife, not even with my brother. You should ask Drury. He might oblige you.”

  Sir John’s attention went to where Julia was holding court, waited on by Steven and her footman. “I wouldn’t want to ask him for anything.” I couldn’t mistake the venom in his quiet tones.

  Richard had noticed it too. “You don’t like him perhaps?”

  “I have heard something of his activities,” Sir John admitted.

  “Which particular activities?” Richard asked. “The London ones?”

  Sir John gave him a straight stare. “We do get the papers in Whitby. I’ve read some ugly rumours about him.”

  “Some of them are more than rumours,” Richard told him. “You’re wise to avoid him.”

  Sir John shrugged. “Oh, I don’t avoid him. I don’t think he notices me too much.” He returned my watch to me with a smile, and I took it, but let my hand linger on his. “It’s very beautiful,” he said, but he w
as looking at me.

  “A shame I lost the other.” I met his eyes and he met my gaze unflinchingly.

  “The other?”

  I withdrew my hand, the watch mine again. “We were robbed on the way here. The thief took the other watch Gervase had given to me on my honeymoon.”

  He looked surprised. “Your brother-in-law came on honeymoon with you?”

  “It was more of a Grand Tour, really. And no one knows the wonders of Italy better than Gervase, so he joined us for a few weeks.”

  “I see.” I didn’t think so. “And that was the watch you lost?”

  “It was. I’m sorry to lose it.”

  “In fact,” said Richard speculatively, “it was remarkably like the one you had the other night—at the Assembly Rooms.”

  Sir John said nothing but glanced in a questioning way at Richard, his eyes wide, his dark eyebrows up. “Do you have it with you tonight?” Richard asked him.

  Sir John grimaced. “Sadly, no. I left it at home. It’s a very pretty thing, a ladies’ toy really, but I couldn’t resist.” He looked away and then back up at Richard. “The truth is—it wasn’t my mother’s.”

  Richard waited, his face clear of any expression, not giving Sir John any clue of his opinions on the matter.

  The young man sighed. “I saw it in a shop window in Exeter, not in a particularly fashionable area—in fact, a most insalubrious one. I suspected it might not have arrived there in a legitimate way, so—I lied when you asked me where it came from.” He met Richard’s gaze. “I’m sorry, my lord. If it was stolen from you, I have no doubt it is in reality yours. I’ll restore it to you, with my apologies, as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you,” Richard said quietly. “It was a special trinket because of the associations. Otherwise, I hope you know, I wouldn’t have asked you.” He paused. “I’d be interested in the name of this shop.”

  “Why? Do you think you could catch the wrongdoers?”

  “Not on my own. There’s a Bow Street Runner in town. This might be connected to his case, and I’d like to keep him furnished with any details.”

  Sir John’s eyes opened wider. “I didn’t know that.”