by Ava March
Instead of a reply or any sort of acknowledgment, Pelham leaned left slightly in his chair and looked out the study window, as if he was trying to look up the gravel drive that ran along the side of the house.
There was the muffled snap of a door shutting.
“Ah, they’ve arrived.” Pelham stood.
“You’re expecting guests?”
“Not exactly. I sent Tristan to gather my driver and his friend.”
Anthony let out a frustrated sigh. Bringing him to the study to give him Gabriel’s letter had simply been an excuse to keep Anthony at the house for a while longer. “Pelham, I told you, while I appreciate the offer, you needn’t bother.”
“It’s not a bother in the slightest. I have no plans to travel in the coming weeks, and I have plenty of grooms to see to one of my other carriages if the urge to take a drive about the countryside comes upon me.”
“But—”
The study door opened. Tristan Walsh, looking not quite as tidy as he’d appeared last night, as well as Morgan and a third man of about Anthony’s height with sharp features and a lean build, all entered the room.
“I’ve done as requested,” Tristan said. “Delivered Morgan and Drake to the study.”
“Thank you, Tristan. Rawling, you are acquainted with Mr. Jack Morgan, correct?” At Anthony’s nod, Pelham continued. “This is Mr. William Drake, a good friend of Morgan’s and a recent addition to the neighborhood. His farm adjoins Arrington Park. Drake—” Pelham looked to the man “—please meet Anthony Hawkins, Viscount Rawling.”
Drake tipped his head. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord.”
“Pelham,” Anthony said, after returning Drake’s greeting, “I can make my way to Derbyshire on my own and I will arrive quicker on horseback. Truly, a driver is not necessary.”
“I am not questioning your ability to traverse the countryside. But I do not want you to stay in Derbyshire alone, and especially not to return to London or to be in London with Tilden alone until the issue of the debts is settled. As we have discussed, he has incurred what we believe to be significant gambling debts and has already removed himself from London because of them. And more importantly, we have reason to believe he has already been attacked once. I do not want a repeat while you are with him.”
“If it comes to that, I am very capable of defending myself.”
“Your Grace, if I may add something.” Pelham’s driver stepped forward. With his massive frame and clad in a long dark greatcoat, Morgan’s presence defined intimidating. But Anthony wasn’t a slight slip of a man. He didn’t need a protector. “Mr. Tilden was attacked about a month ago in London by three men. It was in regards to a debt. Drake and I were out and about one night, not far from Mr. Walsh’s boardinghouse, and came upon them. We intervened, and offered Mr. Tilden our assistance and an escort home, but he refused.”
“And you are just telling us about this now?” Pelham demanded.
Like a chastised child, Morgan dropped his gaze. “My apologies, Your Grace, I—”
“That was my doing.” Drake moved to stand beside Morgan. “Tilden was adamant that he did not want any help from us. That he was quite able to manage on his own. We did not know the current terms of his friendship with either of you, and therefore it was his choice if he wanted to discuss the incident with you. Not our choice to make for him.”
Lips pressed in a tight line, Pelham glowered at Drake. Yet Drake didn’t back down. He held Pelham’s gaze, and there was definitely a touch of a challenge in his blue eyes.
With a low grunt, Pelham shook his head. “You have our thanks for intervening. But if such an incident occurs again, you are to inform both Lord Rawling and myself.”
Drake gave Pelham a half bow. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Satisfied that matter was dealt with, Pelham turned to Anthony. “You are not traveling alone.”
“But—”
“You might as well just accept it,” Tristan said, cutting him off. Anthony looked around Morgan’s massive form to Tristan, who had seated himself on the leather couch. “Max will get his way. Always does when he’s like this. If you persist, he will simply bring on the guilt. Then you’ll have to agree or you will cause him to worry. And as far as escorts go, Morgan’s a good sort.”
The young man spoke as though he had already been through a similar argument once with his lover. And while Pelham wasn’t Anthony’s lover, the man was his friend.
“He’s correct, Rawling. If you leave the Park alone, I will worry for your safety.”
Hell and damnation. A part of him railed at Pelham’s interference, yet... Anthony rolled his eyes. “I won’t be leaving this room alone, will I?”
“No.” Both Pelham and Tristan answered in unison.
He let out a heavy sigh, one of defeat. “All right.”
“Thank you.” A smile briefly touched the edges of Pelham’s mouth, then he became once again the duke, focused on the matter at hand. “Morgan, I will need you to take Lord Rawling to Derbyshire with all due haste and to ensure his and Tilden’s safety until the issue of Tilden’s debts is resolved and the man is out of harm’s way. If they need to travel to London or anywhere else, you are to put yourself at their disposal.” Pelham looked to Anthony. “Do you have the direction to his house in Derbyshire?”
“Ah...” The damned address. He had planned to do what he always did—ask about until he found someone who could tell him how to reach a place. “It should be on the outside of his letter.”
A crisp nod from Pelham. “We will give you the address, Morgan. And Drake, would you perhaps wish to accompany Morgan? He will likely be absent for some time, and he’ll need someone to assist him with the horses. If possible, I would prefer for you to accompany him in lieu of a footman. I would, of course, compensate you for your time.”
Drake brushed aside the offer of compensation. “No need. I meant it when I said if I could ever be of assistance to you, you need only to ask. And yes, I’ll go with Morgan.”
Anthony passed his gaze between Drake and Morgan. The ease with which they stood so close to one another, Drake’s shoulder grazing Morgan’s upper arm, and the way Drake had rushed to Morgan’s defense. They were definitely lovers, and obviously a fact Pelham was well aware of. And it was no coincidence Pelham had had Tristan fetch the both of them. Pelham’s driver might have physical strength in abundance, but Drake... The sharpness of not only his features but his gaze...the man had steel in him and a rough edge that indicated he’d be more than useful if Gabriel’s debt holder came seeking repayment again.
“Excellent.” Pelham was almost fully smiling. The man was so bloody pleased everyone had fallen into line.
Anthony was of a mind to give him a shove. Something to remind Pelham that even though he was a duke, the world wouldn’t always arrange itself to suit his wishes. Yet...
In this instance, Pelham’s wishes just happened to coincide with the most practical solution.
Not that Anthony would admit it to him.
“Though,” Drake continued, “I will need to arrange for someone to watch after Luther and George, my horse and donkey. I rode Luther over but George is back in my barn.”
“Not a problem. There is room for both in my stables, and I’ll send a groom to fetch the donkey this morning.”
“Much thanks, Your Grace.”
“When do you wish to depart, Lord Rawling?” Morgan asked.
“Half an hour ago.”
“I’ll have the traveling carriage brought ’round immediately.” Morgan turned on his heel.
“And you can let the stables know I won’t be needing my horse in the near future,” Anthony called to the man’s broad retreating back.
“Oh, they’ve already been informed of that.” Tristan got to his feet. “I don’t believe I’m needed
anymore. So if no one minds, I am going to the dining room get a spot of breakfast. Care to join me, Drake?”
“Sounds like a capital idea. Thanks for the offer.” Drake followed Tristan out of the study, shutting the door behind them and leaving Anthony alone with Pelham.
Anthony pulled Gabriel’s letter from his pocket. “Rather sure of yourself, weren’t you?”
Pelham had the good grace to not spear him with a haughty glance. Still, he answered, “Yes.” He took the letter, grabbed a pencil and a sheet of paper from a tidy stack on his desk and wrote something down. “Just give that paper to Morgan. It has Tilden’s address.”
“Thank you.” And he hadn’t had to ask. The man might be a bit overbearing at times, but Pelham was truly a good friend. Anthony wouldn’t trade him for another in the world.
Chapter Sixteen
Gabriel contemplated the gilt-framed painting that was propped against the couch. A landscape done in oils. Rolling grassy fields on a sunny day with a cluster of trees in the distance. He hadn’t a clue as to the identity of the artist—the painting had been on the wall in the drawing room when he and Charlotte had moved in—but it appeared to be done by someone with a deft hand. Had to have some value beyond the nominal. If nothing else the frame alone should fetch a good sum.
He added the painting to the list in his ledger. The value... Fifty pounds? Or maybe more? Or less? He was no expert when it came to artwork. He figured he would pay fifty pounds for it, so that’s what he put on the line in the ledger.
Moving the painting aside, he revealed the one behind it. The golden light from the candle on the side table flickered over a chestnut horse with a small white dog scampering about. A tad smaller than the other painting, so it should fetch less...unless the artist held more value. He should be conservative in his estimates, though. The last thing he wanted was to be in a position to believe he could cover every pound owed, only to be told he would still be short by hundreds.
He added another line to the ledger and wrote forty pounds. Then he counted the paintings in the piles propped against the couch and checked to see if he had them all in the ledger. All the paintings accounted for, he had just turned his attention to the mass of objects on his desk when the sounds of carriage wheels and hooves on gravel cut through the silence of the study.
His head snapped to his right, gaze going to the drawn curtains. Who would call so late in the evening? Certainly none of his neighbors.
Don’t let it be Carter. Gabriel was so close to finishing all the tasks he’d set for himself. Just another day or two, and he’d be on his way back to London.
A knock sounded on the front door, fairly reverberating throughout the house.
He set the ledger on the corner of his desk, crossed the room and pulled back an edge of one curtain. Lanterns stationed on either side of the driver’s bench illuminated a traveling carriage pulled by a team of four. It wasn’t a carriage he recognized. He tried to catch sight of the man at his door, but his vantage point wouldn’t allow it. Sitting on the driver’s bench were two men. Their backs were to Gabriel so he couldn’t see their faces, but the massive shoulders on one of those men...
Another knock sounded on the door. Gabriel stepped away from the window. If it was Carter with another set of thugs intent on intimidating him into paying, then so be it. If nothing else, the last few weeks had taught Gabriel there was nothing to be gained from trying to hide from his problems. In fact, hiding and denying only served to make matters worse.
Much worse.
Taking the candlestick from the side table, he went out into the foyer. He turned the lock and opened the door.
His breath caught.
He blinked.
“Good evening, Gabriel.”
That was indeed Anthony standing on his front step, a leather saddlebag clutched in one hand.
As each day had passed without a note from Anthony, the hope in Gabriel’s heart had faded until nothing had remained. Until he had faced the horrible, agonizing truth that Anthony wanted nothing more to do with him. Gabriel had soldiered on, focused all of his attention on resolving his debts and tried his best to not even think about how he had lost Anthony forever. Yet...
Anthony had come. He had finally come. Anthony hadn’t forgotten him, hadn’t turned away in disgust.
His heart leapt into his throat. Christ, he’d missed Anthony. He had missed him so much.
Anthony shifted his weight, the smile on his lips faltering. “My apologies for the late arrival. If it best I return on the morrow—”
“No. No need to apologize,” he clarified in a rush. He made to reach out, to grab Anthony’s arm and pull him into the house, but stopped himself just in time. “And no need to return on the morrow.” Gabriel took a brief moment to gather his composure. “You are more than welcome, no matter the time of day or night.” Stepping back, he opened the door fully. “Do please come in.”
As Anthony crossed the threshold, one of the men on the driver’s bench called, “Lord Rawling, does Mr. Tilden have a stable we could make use of for the horses?”
“Oh yes. The horses. Well, I don’t know.” Anthony turned to Gabriel. “The carriage is on loan from a friend, though the team is post—we stopped frequently to change the horses. Do you have a stable?”
“A small barn. It’s around back, but...” The footman’s voice... It had sounded familiar. Gabriel looked over Anthony’s shoulder to the carriage. The light from the carriage lanterns reached the footman’s face. Sharp features and a piercing gaze. Gabriel shifted his attention to the giant sitting beside the man. Impossibly broad shoulders clad in a dark greatcoat, black hair a tad longer than fashion dictated.
No, couldn’t be. It was merely a coincidence the men resembled...
Or perhaps not a coincidence.
“Sir,” Gabriel called to the man who he had a strong suspicion was not a footman. “Have I made your acquaintance before?”
His question was met with silence.
Anthony let out a sigh, one that screamed of reluctance. “They are the pair who came to your assistance some weeks ago in London. No, they were not following you at the time. Were merely in that part of Town. And please don’t get angry again. Yes, Mr. Morgan, the driver, had been asked to locate you. I was worried and took Pelham up on his offer to loan me the use of his driver for the task. No, I did not ask Morgan to continue following you about, nor did he take up that task on his own accord. It was happenstance that he and Mr. Drake came upon your...skirmish that night.”
“I’m not going to get angry.” He’d made that mistake once and would not repeat it. “And by Pelham, do you mean the Duke of Pelham?” When he had heard the duke referenced at social functions, it had been with a heavy note of reverence, like someone admired from a great distance.
“Yes. He is a good friend of mine. I had need to stop at his estate in Hampshire before proceeding on to Derbyshire. He lent me his driver and carriage for the journey here. Rather insisted, and Mr. Drake agreed to accompany Morgan. If you need to return to London, they are to take us, as well. You have a small barn around back they can use for the horses?” Anthony asked, as if eager to get back on the topic of the horses and off the topic of why exactly Gabriel had recognized the two men.
Gabriel nodded. “Though it’s now empty, and the barn doesn’t have much for lodgings. Just a tiny room with a pallet in the loft.” Definitely not of a scale a duke’s driver would be accustomed to. And there were two men, not just one, to provide accommodations for. Gabriel stepped past Anthony and went to the carriage. “The village has a small inn. Give them my name, and they will see to the horses and provide you both with rooms.” If he could, he’d offer them rooms in his home. But as that wasn’t an option, the best he could do was the inn. He could spare a few coins for the men who had brought Anthony to him. “My apologies, I have
nothing more to offer.”
The giant—Mr. Morgan—shook his head. “Much thanks, but we’ve been instructed to remain close to Lord Rawling. The barn is acceptable.”
They’d been instructed? “But there is only one pallet and—”
Mr. Drake cut him off. “Thank you, but we’ll manage just fine.” He nudged Morgan with his shoulder. “Onward, Jack. Let’s get the horses unhitched.”
“Wait.” Gabriel held up his free hand. “Though we have met before, the occasion unfortunately did not include an introduction. I am Mr. Gabriel Tilden. Welcome to Stonebridge Manor. And...” It was best to not dally, so Gabriel forced the words out. “You have my thanks for your prior assistance, and my apologies for my ungrateful behavior.”
Drake inclined his head. “Mr. William Drake, and this is Mr. Jack Morgan, driver of horses and muscle of much use. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tilden, and the apologies are unnecessary. We were happy to be able to offer our assistance.”
“And thank you for bringing Lord Rawling to Derbyshire.”
Drake held his gaze as if he knew Anthony was far more than his friend. Had Anthony mentioned something to the pair? If Anthony had, then that meant Anthony trusted them and Gabriel was not going to allow himself to get unnerved by the knowledge that someone other than Anthony was aware of his preferences.
“You’re most welcome.” Drake gave him another tip of the head. “Good evening, Mr. Tilden. Lord Rawling, if you have use of us, just give a shout.” Then he gave Morgan another nudge. “To the barn, Jack.”
A flick of Morgan’s wrists, and the team of four slipped into a trot, the carriage disappearing around the house.
Gabriel turned toward the front door.
“Ungrateful behavior?” Anthony asked.
“I was a bit short of temper at the time,” he said, walking back into the house. “They kindly offered to see me home, and I not very kindly refused.” He shut the door and locked it. “You’ve deduced the black eye was not from footpads, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
