And when had he started thinking like a damned chaperone? He wasn’t her father, or her brother, let alone her husband. It was none of his damned business. He should walk away. But even then, he knew he wouldn’t.
Bernard strode into the salon, throwing his hands high in triumph. “They’ve gone!” he exclaimed, to a resounding cheer.
Through it, Wickenden glimpsed Gillie speaking softly to the maid, who set aside her tray of glasses and hurried from the room – presumably to extract Jack from under the Spanish lady’s bed.
The thought made him smile, not just at the ridiculousness of the situation, but that despite everything, Gillie had taken the woman in anyway. She really was a rare and rather wonderful creature.
*
Isabella’s son was born just before dawn. Although Dulcie and Mrs. Jack had shooed her from the room some time before, Gillie could no more have slept than the mother herself. Instead, she paced up and down the hallway, upstairs to her own chamber and back down again, until finally, from the landing outside her door, she heard the cry of a baby. She all but flew downstairs and burst into Isabella’s bedchamber.
Isabella sat up in the big bed, supported by pillows, her hair somewhat lank but brushed back from her exhausted face. And yet somehow, she was beautiful. The soft light in her dark eyes, the tender smile on her lips as she gazed down at the wrapped baby in her arms, made her so.
“Oh, Isabella,” Gillie said, wonder in her cracked voice as she moved toward her.
Isabella glanced up and smiled at her. “Come and see him.”
Gillie sat on the bed, reaching out one finger to draw down a corner of the shawl to give her a better view. Eyes tight shut, it was a perfect, tiny, miraculous little human.
Gillie touched his soft, warm cheek. “My little brother,” she whispered. At that moment, she didn’t care whether or not he actually was. He always would be to her.
With a sudden movement, Isabella seized her in one arm and hugged her, gasping out a few incoherent words in Spanish, from which Gillie could make out only, “Thank you.”
Gillie hugged her back, letting the tears flow, until the baby, objecting perhaps to sharing his mother, woke up and cried. They parted, laughing in kind of watery way, and Gillie watched with wonder as Isabella fed her baby.
It was light before Gillie left Isabella and the baby to go to bed. Hushed voices from the hall below distracted her. Thinking that Bernard must be desperate to know about the birth, she hurried downstairs to discover her brother deep in a low-toned conversation with Kit Grantham.
It was the second time she’d discovered the two in such a huddle since last night and it made her suspicious. She hoped Kit wasn’t roping Bernie into some scheme to persuade her to marry him in reality.
Catching sight of her, they broke off.
“Good morning,” Kit called across the hall, then bowed and hastily departed. Bernard, it seemed, couldn’t wait to close the door on him.
“What was all that about?” Gillie demanded.
“Oh, nothing really. Fellow’s got himself into a bit of bother and needs my advice.”
Gillie blinked. “Bernie, you know I love you, but why would a man of Captain Grantham’s experience need the advice of someone only just turned twenty-one who’s never travelled further than Carlisle?”
“It’s not that kind of advice,” Bernard insisted with more haste than dignity. “It’s to do with cards.”
“Oh,” Gillie said, not believing him for a moment.
“I’ll be going up to the castle later, look in on Lord Braithwaite, you know.”
“Very well.” When she was less tired, she would understand why all this was bothering her. “Isabella’s baby is born. He’s beautiful.”
“I thought I heard a cry! But I’ve been dozing all night and wasn’t sure if I was dreaming. Does he have a name yet?”
“Arthur.”
Bernard lifted his eyebrows. “Father’s name,” he observed. “It’s either very clever or… Do you know what I think, Gillie?”
“That she is his wife and the child is our brother?”
He nodded glumly.
“It will be all right now, Bernie. She stood by us, hiding Jack without a murmur, even yelling as if she were in agony when she wasn’t at all. She doesn’t like what we do, but I believe she really does like us.”
“And you like her. But then, you like everyone. I suppose I can’t go and see the brat right now?”
“They’re asleep. Later would be best.”
“You should be asleep too,” Bernard observed, strolling past her with a yawn. “It’s been a busy night.”
“It has,” Gillie agreed.
Gillie was far too excited to sleep very well, especially with the sun fighting its way through her bed chamber curtains. Her thoughts were full of Isabella and the baby and the wonder of motherhood, of Lord Wickenden and the way he’d kissed her despite her supposed engagement to Kit, and of Bernard, huddling with Kit and announcing his proposed visit to the castle almost immediately after. Something was going on.
It was still only late morning when she rose once more, washed and dressed. She discovered her aunt in Isabella’s chamber, making little gooey noises to the sleeping baby in the cradle beside the bed. Isabella slept, too.
Together, Gillie and Aunt Margaret crept from the room. “They’re both doing well,” Aunt Margaret said with satisfaction. “So nice to have a little baby about the place again… Have you broken your fast, Gillie?”
“Why, no, I’ve only just risen. I couldn’t sleep last night until the baby was born.”
“Go and eat. I think Bernard’s just sent for ham and toast.”
“Bernard is up?” Gillie said in amazement.
“Apparently so,”
He was indeed up and eating a hearty breakfast, preparatory, he said, to walking up to the castle.
“Do you know,” Gillie said on impulse, “I think I’ll walk up with you.”
Bernard, who was open by nature, immediately looked alarmed. “Probably not such a great idea,” he said hastily. “Braithwaite won’t receive you in his bedchamber, you know! And Serena left with Lady Frances.”
“I know,” Gillie said. “I shall pay my respects to Lady Braithwaite.”
Bernard leapt to his feet. “Yes, but I’m going now. If you wait until this afternoon, I’ll borrow Higson’s trap and drive you up—”
“No, I’d like the walk,” Gillie insisted, cramming a last piece of toast in her mouth. “Just let me grab my shawl and we’ll go.”
*
Lady Braithwaite was surprised but apparently not displeased to receive Gillie.
“It’s quite lonely, you know, only Braithwaite and me rattling about in this great, old place! I almost wish I’d let Frances and Serena stay as they wished.”
“Bernard tells me Lord Braithwaite is bearing up,” Gillie offered.
“If you mean he’s already confoundedly bored, then yes,” the countess said ruefully. “So bored he has people he barely knows closeted with him for hours.”
“Oh? I didn’t know he had visitors already. Bernard behaved as if his visit was necessary to his lordship’s sanity!”
Lady Braithwaite allowed herself a small smile. “Bernard has always been good company, but he’s a little young for Braithwaite’s set. Let alone Wickenden’s.”
Although she was prepared for his name – or even his person – Gillie couldn’t help the inevitable twinge of her heart.
“I believe Lord Wickenden is something of a sporting hero to Bernard,” she managed calmly.
Lady Braithwaite turned her penetrating gaze upon Gillie. “No doubt. And he is a gentleman of the haute tonne. He seemed quite taken with you, Gillie. And yet I hear you have engaged yourself at last to Captain Grantham.”
Trying to ignore the heat flooding her face, Gillie stuck with the statement before last so that she wouldn’t need to lie. “I’m sure he just felt sorry for me.”
“He does have
a good heart although he hides it well. Captain Grantham is an adequate match, however. He has no fortune of his own, but his mother has married into the Derwents, who will, I believe, ensure his promotion. Will you follow the drum, Gillie? I can imagine you adventuring in Spain!”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Gillie blurted in agony. “But speaking of Spain, I have acquired a new brother! My stepmother was delivered of a boy.”
“Your stepmother? You are acknowledging that woman now?”
“I cannot be certain, of course, but I’ve come to believe she really did marry my father.”
The countess nodded. “Featherstone thought it was likely. He said he and your man had only bought you some time. What will Bernard, do?”
“I don’t know,” Gillie confessed. “She disagrees with us about the card parties.”
“I disagree with you about the card parties,” Lady Braithwaite said dryly. “But I daresay Captain Grantham will put a stop to them. I shall speak to him today, when he leaves Braithwaite.”
Gillie felt her eyes widen. “Kit – Captain Grantham – is with Lord Braithwaite just now?”
“Yes, and Major Randolph.”
“And Bernard… Something is going on.”
“Let us ask Wickenden. That sounds like his tread in the hall.”
Gillie did her best to steel herself as Lady Braithwaite called his name. A moment later, Lord Wickenden strolled into the room. He bowed to his hostess then came to shake hands with her. She slid her fingers free as soon as she could.
“What news from the battlefield?” he asked ironically.
“If you mean the lying-in, I have a baby brother and both he and his mother are doing well.”
“Excellent. I believe Colonel Fredericks will be taking care of your other problem.”
Before she could inquire which problem, Lady Braithwaite distracted him. “What is going on in my son’s bedchamber, Wickenden?”
Wickenden’s lips twitched. “I could not possibly say, ma’am.”
“He’s got Bernard Muir, Major Randolph, and Captain Grantham in there.”
Gillie thought she caught a flicker of surprise at this last name, although with Wickenden it was hard to tell.
“Go and find out for us what they’re up to,” Lady Braithwaite commanded.
“I fear I would not be welcome, ma’am. Local business.”
Lady Braithwaite’s shrewd eyes lingered on his face. “You know what it’s all about but you’re not telling.”
Wickenden clutched his heart. “Allow a man to keep some honor. Alas, I am pledged to secrecy!”
“Hmph,” uttered the countess.
Wickenden smiled reassuringly. “I wouldn’t concern yourself. It is nothing of moment or of interest to any but males of the species. Braithwaite merely amuses himself until he’s fit enough to go out and about again.”
It was plausible enough in a secretive, slightly silly kind of way that Gillie did not associate with Lord Wickenden. Only it made Gillie even less easy. Memories flashed in and out of her mind, particularly Kit’s face when he’d seen Lord Wickenden follow her out of the darkness of the passage last night. And he’d strode purposefully into the smaller salon, only to emerge white-faced and tense a moment later. Bernard and Kit in close and somewhat secret confabulation last night and again early this morning. Bernard’s efforts to put her off coming here…not to stop her encountering Lord Wickenden, for he’d offered to bring her this afternoon. He simply hadn’t wanted her here now. And it seemed Wickenden wasn’t waited in the discussions either.
Understanding struggled. It was, surely, about Wickenden. Braithwaite was surely the baron’s only friend in Blackhaven now that the London guests had left. But Bernard, Braithwaite, and Randolph all knew each other exceedingly well.
No.
She stared at Wickenden, who gazed unblinkingly back at her, a faint smile on his lips that told her nothing.
She jumped to her feet. “I must go. Thank you, Lady Braithwaite. Please give my best regards to his lordship for his speedy recovery.”
“Why don’t you wait for Bernard?” Lady Braithwaite asked in surprise.
“Oh, who knows how long he’ll be,” Gillie babbled. “I should get back to Isabella. So glad to talk to you, though…”
Wickenden, who’d risen with her, accompanied her to the door.
“You wouldn’t, would you?” she said intensely.
“Wouldn’t what?” he asked, opening the door for her.
Forcing herself, she met his gaze. “Fight a duel in Blackhaven.”
He didn’t even blink. “Why would I even consider anything so foolish.”
“That isn’t an answer!”
“Yes,” he said, “it is. Wait. If you won’t wait for Bernard, let me drive you back to the village.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Yes, it will. The spies are not yet in custody, according to Colonel Fredericks. You can’t walk alone.”
She pushed past him. “I would rather face fifty spies than be in your company a moment longer,” she said intensely.
Fortunately, in the courtyard, she encountered Bernard, Kit, and Major Randolph, emerging from the door to the family’s private quarters in deep, serious conversation.
She glanced back and saw Lord Wickenden still standing on the main front steps. He didn’t walk down to meet the others, as would have been natural. Instead, seeing her with them, he simply turned his back and walked back inside.
Chapter Thirteen
She seized Bernard as soon as they entered the house, dragging him into the empty salon.
“Is Kit fighting a duel with Lord Wickenden?” she demanded.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bernard muttered, shrugging her off impatiently.
“I’m not, but they are! And so are you if you’re encouraging the folly!”
“Of course I’m not encouraging it!” Bernard exclaimed, then, floundering, “That is, if it were happening, of course I wouldn’t encourage it.”
“Your Kit’s second, aren’t you?”
“Dash it, Gillie!”
“I’ll take that as yes. You and Major Randolph. And Lord Braithwaite is acting for Wickenden. Only why was Kit there? Shouldn’t it all be arranged by the seconds?”
Bernard dragged one hand through his already rumpled hair and gave in. “Braithwaite wanted him there to talk some sense into him. Didn’t trust me or Randolph to do it.”
“And did he succeed?” Gillie asked eagerly. “All of you together?”
“Hardly, when it isn’t happening!” Bernard exclaimed with a last ditch attempt to save the secrecy of the situation. “Don’t be a ninny, Gillie.”
Of course, it was not Bernard’s secret to reveal, and she recognized the unkindness in pressing him further. Instead, she went to the parlor and wrote a note to Kit, asking him to call at his earliest convenience. After which, she busied herself with duties around the house, and visited Isabella and her son, a pleasure from which she was distracted by Charles announcing the arrival of Kit.
Although Aunt Margaret was not best pleased with her apparent betrothal to Kit, she was too good-natured to say a word against it. She was quite happy to concentrate on her needlework while Kit and Gillie sat in the window seat at the other side of the room.
“I’m very glad you sent for me,” he said, smiling.
“Well, I don’t know that you’re going remain happy,” she said frankly. “I want to talk you out of something,”
His smile faded. “Our engagement.”
“Don’t be silly, Kit, there is no engagement, is there? I know you won’t even admit to me that you’re doing this, but I want you to stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“This duel you’re apparently not having with Lord Wickenden.”
“I have never been involved in an affair of honor,” Kit said, carefully clinging to the letter of truth.
“No, and I don’t want you to be, because Lord Wickenden has! Several.”
“I am aware of it. And I know he has killed his man once, if not twice by now.”
“Then…if you were to fight him and die, you would die happy knowing that some honor is satisfied?”
“Of course,” he said. “If I were to fight him.”
“And do you think your mother would understand that honor and applaud you? Do you think your friends would? That I would? Even I know that dueling is forbidden in the regiment.”
“It’s forbidden, but it happens anyway because yes, officers do understand affairs of honor.”
“I suppose you’d be doing them a favor by dying!”
“Now you’re being ridiculous. You’re assuming I would lose…were I to fight him.”
“Everyone else has lost,” she pointed out.
“But they were not soldiers,” Kit said proudly.
She leaned forward. “Kit, you do know that he was a soldier? He fought in India and—”
“I don’t care,” Kit interrupted, though she could see that his complacent bubble, no doubt bolstering his courage, was burst. “And I wouldn’t, even if I were to fight him. May we talk of something else?”
“No, we may not. Not until you have rediscovered your sense. For there is no purpose in this! If you imagine you are quarrelling over me, there is no need. He has never behaved other than as a perfect gentleman in my company.” This was not, of course, strictly true, but she had faith God would forgive the white lie in a good cause.
“His presence distresses you,” Kit said flatly. “I will not allow that.”
Until those words, Gillie hadn’t even been sure that Kit had been the challenger. For some reason it was a relief to discover her instinctive hope was truth.
“It is not your place,” she reminded him, “to allow or disallow anything. You keep forgetting our engagement is a sham.”
“To spite my mother?” Kit countered. “Or to keep him at bay?”
“That does not matter,” she said, brushing it aside. “It will be over soon enough. Don’t go through with this, Kit, not for nothing.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said grandly.
Barons, Brides, and Spies: Regency Series Starter Collection Volume Two Page 16
