"Well, he's also family."
The tea trader nodded. "Yes, of course. All of we Rakehells do try to be. We are delighted to know you. In case I've not said it properly before, welcome to the district. Speaking as a relative newcomer here myself, I just hope you're as happy here as we've been."
Simon returned the warm smile. "I have been indeed. I'm even more so thanks to your vote of confidence and kind offer. As I've said, let me talk it over with Gabrielle, and I'll give you an answer soon."
Lawrence shook hands and departed, leaving Simon to go in search of Gabrielle.
She was thrilled at the news and prospect of the wine. "We could even get to go home to Dorset to..."
Simon clapped his hand to his head and began to tumble toward the carpetted floor of the study. She caught him before he fell and managed to heave him into a chair.
"My God, Simon. It's been so long since you had any funny turns," she said worriedly. "Since our little Christopher was born."
He said in a reedy whisper, "I remembered something, that was all. Well, not remembered exactly, because I don't think it's happened yet. But I saw, well, ships. Hundreds of French ships, carrying thousands of soldiers."
Gabrielle paled. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure of it."
"But what on earth could it mean?"
"A possible future? Or my worst nightmare. That message I sent..."
"Aye, free the eagle."
"That's it."
"We sent an anonymous note to the Foreign Office from the coaching inn in Reading, remember? We did give them warning. You even put in a code word they would have known to try to prove it was from our side, and that you had not turned traitor. Surely they wouldn't have just ignored it."
"I don't know."
"And they haven't come looking for you, either side."
"Or maybe they just haven't found me yet, but..." He spread his hands wide.
Gabrielle paced up and down, trying not to let the fear get the better of her. "No, it is just a bad dream. It has to be. Even if we thought there was going to be a French invasion of England as a result of what you did, what else can we do? Who else can we warn at this point if they didn't pay any attention to the last message months ago? Think, Simon. No one would ever believe us on the basis of your having what, a headache, and it would be putting you at unacceptable risk to try to pursue the matter further."
He sighed. "I just hate the idea of sitting around doing nothing."
She paused and folded her arms in front of her. She resisted the urge to chafe them up and down with her hands against the sudden chill. "I don't see that we have a choice. We just have to pray you're wrong."
He sat looking pensive, clutching his brow with one hand and chewing his lower lip.
"Perhaps this is just a sign to not take Lawrence's offer, attractive though it may be. I think, despite how wonderful it is, that it would be far too risky for you to ever go back France given the circumstances. The easiest way to find you would be to check all of your old haunts. You heard about Alexander Davenport nearly being killed by unscrupulous relatives for his inheritance because he was so badly injured he had lost his memory as well as his sight. They spotted him, and pounced before he and Sarah were even aware there was aught amiss."
He lifted his hand and looked at her for a moment before he nodded. "You're right, of course. Going back and forth to the Continent again is out of the question. Someone might recognise me, take me captive for their own purposes."
He added a short time later, "And I'm supposed to have been poisoned, remember? Dead."
She shuddered. "Don't remind me."
"Who knows how long it took them to find the body. Or clean up the mess they made. If they didn't look too closely at Spence's body, or know me, we might be away scot-free. But if they find out I'm still alive, well..."
Gabrielle caressed his shoulder as she completed the thought for him. "If they discover you are still alive, then you and everyone else in this house is in danger. They failed the first time. They could always try again."
"So we can invest in the tea. Anything to keep you happy and safe." He got to his feet in a bound, and hugged her hard.
She asked after a time, "Better?"
"Mmm, much better, apart from the throb in my head. Have we got any rosewater?"
"Surely." She took his hand and led him up to their room. She bathed his temples while his head rested in her lap.
"I love the smell. It reminds me of you."
She smiled fondly. "You and your roses. Apparently Jonathan Deveril's brother-in-law is a real expert too. We shall have to put the two of you together some time. When he gets back from Ireland, perhaps. I hear he takes first prize at the local fair every year, even the County ones. You can try to give him a run for his money this year."
He grinned. "I'll be very pleased to meet him when the time comes. But no one could ever come close to my roses, not even my dear Mama. Now if you could just give me one of your wonderful honeyed kisses, I think I'll be a new man."
She complied happily.
He sat up and curled into her body. "Mmm, much better now."
"It is true, though. You are getting better every day. This is the first seizure you've had in ages, and there have been no nightmares or blank spells. You have a new name and life, Simon Drake, and the Dowager and all the children adore you. Not to mention Randall and Lawrence thinking you're the most wonderful miracle worker on their accounts and investments."
He looked moderately pleased with himself. "Your cousins and their friends have been most kind. I should very much like to repay them. Now that the weather is so fine, I should love to have a picnic in the woods one day."
"And I know just the spot. Millcote Forest. Randall and Isolde have the most wonderful watercolour in their room which he gave her as a gift when the triplets were born. I'd very much like to see it in person. It looks a most magical place."
"It sounds wonderful." He reached up to pull her down to him for a quick kiss. "Wonderful like you, my dear."
She stroked his cheek and hair lovingly.
"Well, now that our business dealings would appear to be all settled, what do you think about your sister Lucinda? I mean, I'm not complaining at all, of course. I'm more than happy to support her and Christopher with whatever they need. I just wondered if it might not be possible to pull her out of herself a bit more? Get her to come with us? And perhaps even work with us on our new enterprises?"
"I can ask. But you know how she hates to leave the house, the baby. She loves being with the children, though, so if we have the entire clan out for the day, she shall have to come."
"Now that sounds like a rather clever idea. She can't possibly refuse to come if everyone is going." He grinned from ear to ear like a happy school boy.
"You really are remarkable, Simon, you know that?"
He blinked and gave a shy smile. "I'm not sure what I did to deserve that, but thank you, ma cherie."
"It's because you don't realise how special you are that you're even more so. I've never met a more kind and decent man. You go out of your way to make other people happy. You never even think about yourself. And you can't even seem to grasp the, well, evil in the world, because you are so utterly lacking in any you can't recognise it in others."
Simon shook his head. "That's not true. I saw too much evil in the war. I want to create a better world for us all, and where better to start than oneself? I have no control over all the nasty and foul things that other people choose to do to one another, but I have a choice about how I wish to live. How I treat the people I care about, the people I love."
He cupped her chin in his long, lean fingers, and met her gaze unblinkingly. "I love you, Gabrielle. Anything you want you have only to say. I'll do anything to make you happy, you know that."
He gathered her into his arms in that unique way he had of making her feel completely treasured, as if not just her body but entire soul were being embraced.
"Yes, I know it. And you do, Simon. I only wish I could tell you how much. And I wish I could get you to stop worrying about the past, about losing me. I'll never leave you."
He swung his legs off the seat and onto the floor to sit up and look her in the eyes earnestly. "I'm sorry. It's just that having lost my old family I couldn't bear anything happening to my new.
"That includes Lucinda and baby Christopher. I never knew how fiercely protective one could feel over a child. You tell me I have no evil within me, but I swear if anyone tried to harm any of you, I don't know what I would be capable of."
She gave him a reassuring smile. "Oh, darling, it's the same for me. I would gladly kill someone with my bare hands if they tried to hurt the three of you. Or indeed any of Randall and Isolde's children, or Michael and Bryony's."
"It's going rather tall order keeping all of them safe through life, though."
She rested her head on his shoulder. "Not really. They adore you. And Lucinda. And I think they're pretty fond of me too. We have a good life here. I just hope it can content you."
"More than content. It fills me with joy. And speaking of filling..." He scooped her up in his arms and headed for the bed.
"Oh, Simon, you are sooo naughty."
"Just let me know when I take the edge off your appetite," he said with a grin, flipping up her skirts with one hand and opening the falls of his suddenly too tight breeches with the other.
Gabrielle shot him a sultry look and licked her lips. "Try a hundred years from now when we're both too old to move."
He joined her in the bed, and lifted her ankles up around his neck. "That sounds wonderful to me. But for the moment let's just make sure we get out of the bed long enough to plan our picnic in Millcote Forest."
"Gladly, darling, as soon as I'm not so ravenous."
"You mean ravishing," he said, poising himself for the first deep stroke.
"Mmm, yes, pleeeeaase," she purred.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Simon and Gabrielle took great delight in planning the Rakehell picnic, which was to be a full clan occasion with all the children and a vast array of food and entertainment.
There didn't seem to be a cloud on their horizon, and in fact the best possible news came to Randall one day shortly before the picnic, which made Gabrielle infinitely relieved.
He summoned her and Simon at once to tell them the incredible news.
"We don't need to worry about instituting divorce proceedings for Lucinda now," he told them.
"Oh?" they both replied, looking at each other and back at Randall.
"No, because Oxnard is dead."
"Dead?" Gabrielle gasped, surprise and relief mingling.
"Aye, they found his body in the Thames, what was left of it. The fish of course had got an awful lot of him, but now Lucinda and the baby can come out of hiding.
"Oh, thank the gods," Simon sighed, though he still felt vaguely disquieted by the whole affair.
"Yes, indeed," Gabrielle said, not exactly rejoicing in the death of another, but heaving a sigh of relief that Oxnard could never harm her family again.
Randall nodded. "And let's hope Oxnard rots in hell."
"What do we do now?" Gabrielle asked eagerly.
"I shall write to the solicitors who contacted us here looking for news of her, and tell them to..."
"No!" Simon said suddenly.
Both turned to look at him, for he had begun to quiver. Gabrielle rammed him into a chair before he fell down, and took his hand. "Dearest, what is it?"
"You told me the estate is impoverished. What could we hope to gain by writing to them to tell them of her whereabouts, when..."
"Not for Lucinda, certainly but something may be salvageable for her son," Randall argued. "A title is no mean thing, after all."
Simon shook his head. "I know. It's just, well, it's just that I think everything that man touched was tainted, everything except Christopher. If it is a question of providing for them, you know I shall..."
Randall gestured impatiently. "That's very commendable, but it's not your responsibility..."
Simon shook his head again. "Please don't write. The hell with the Oxnard earldom. It's just not worth it. I can't explain it. I just feel it's a bad idea."
Randall nodded at length, and sought to mollify him. "All right. We'll leave it for now. It is good of you to take your duties to your family so seriously."
Simon shrugged one shoulder. "I've been her guardian ever since we met, just as Gabrielle has been mine. It's part of, I don't know, a pattern. You know about the castle, Gabrielle, and..."
She kissed him to prevent him saying anything in front of her cousin which would sound completely mad. "I know, love. Let's get you outside for some fresh air."
After they had gone, Randall gazed at the shut door thoughtfully for a moment, then sighed.
He thought of his brother Michael, who had willingly give up his title as Earl of Hazelmere, allowed him to have it rather than resume his duties in the world.
Baby Christopher might not want the earldom and title now, but in time...
Randall stood at his desk for a moment in an uncharacteristic fit of indecision. Then he sat, and penned the address of Oxnard's solicitor on the letter laying on the blotter.
He rang for the servant, and when he appeared, told him to dispatch it at once.
Faking his own death had been a stroke of genius, Oxnard decided as he travelled in the mail coach down to Bath several days later.
With the authorities looking for him for debts and his other crimes, he would never be able to avoid prison if he didn't do something drastic.
As he had thought, as soon as they'd assumed him dead, his wife Lucinda had claimed the estate for her son, and her whereabouts had been revealed at last.
Now all he had to do was secure the child, Christopher, apparently who was his heir, after all, and see what provision he could make.
He didn't really care what became of her, but she could probably earn some good money trawling the docks until such time as her friends could come up with some cash and other considerations to make sure she was safe and didn't get restored to Bedlam.
He was sure her bitch of a sister Gabrielle would die rather than let that happen again. Well, he would keep the two women and baby alive for as long as they were useful to him, but that would be as far as it went.
But women simply couldn't be trusted. He had learned that the hard way with that bitch Miranda, a mere whore from the London theatre, and that cow Georgina Jerome, who had betrayed him, told them everything she knew about him.
Oxnard smiled tightly. The time would come for revenge, and it would be all the more sweet for having had to wait for it patiently.
But first, he would need to tend to his cash flow problem, rather than slake his lusts. Though he might be able to have the best of both worlds too....
That slut Miranda had managed to escape his clutches, but he had prepared himself better this time. He had a collection of manacles and drugs that would ensure the women's co-operation. The child's too. He couldn't abide squalling infants.
The Howell girls had had little enough money, but the fact that their cousin was an earl was a guarantee that they would want to keep things quiet and pay him whatever he wished.
Besides, what could everyone say about him wanting to reclaim his poor run-away mad wife? Even if he did get caught, the law would be on his side. At least until they found out from the authorities what he had been up to in London...
He had enjoyed his vices; so long as other people paid for them his life would be perfect. He clinked the chains in his valise. He just couldn't wait to get to Brimley...
When Oxnard arrived, however, he crept around Barkston House only to discover that the entire family had gone on to Millcote Forest for a picnic.
He debated on whether or not to wait, and then decided time was of the essence. So he got the directions from a passing farmer, and instructed the rented carriage to head there.
Then Oxnard passed through the forest twice in order to see the lay of the land. There were a lot of people milling about enjoying the fine weather.
He spotted the gold-haired beauty of his wife Lucinda easily enough and felt a mild stirring in his unpredictable loins. He rubbed his sore back and stared for a time. Who would have imagined his timid little wife would be amongst so many fine ladies and gentlemen?
It required a slight change in plans, but nothing drastic. It would probably be a lot easier to seize the child first, and then make his demands later, when they had all been sufficiently terrified for the safety of the infant.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection 6 Page 33
