by Jenn LeBlanc
“Of course, Your Grace,” she replied, “and I shall be honored to attend.”
“The honor will be mine, my lady, particularly if you bring your charming granddaughter.”
“Why, Your Grace, I most certainly will.”
And with that the dashing brothers departed.
“One more stop I think, Grover,” Gideon said two days later, eliciting a groan from Perry. They had spent all of Friday before the ball making the rounds of London and most of Saturday as well. He dealt his brother a vicious glance and Perry feigned retreat across the carriage. “Take us to Knightsbridge. I have business at Harrods.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the coachman replied.
Perry gave his brother a sideways glance. “You never have business at Harrods,” he grumbled.
“I do today.” Gideon smiled, drawing a hearty laugh from Perry.
They spent the afternoon perusing the monstrous store. Perry glared at Gideon, who was examining a silver comb. “Visiting shops should not be such a chore for one as well appointed as you,” Gideon murmured.
“I do none of my own purchasing, brother. This escapade is akin to having teeth yanked. I will, however, endure further for your benefit,” he said, then paused. “If you deem it necessary.”
“I do so deem it,” Gideon replied, with a sly half-smile.
“You are gathering some rather extravagant gifts, Gideon. Does this mean you have made a decision about your guest?” Perry fingered the matched silver brush on the counter. Gideon put the comb down and picked it up.
“Well, I can’t truly make a decision until I know more about her, but in all honesty I plan to do what it takes to care for her.”
“That sounds rather formal.”
Gideon motioned at the set. “To be delivered to Roxleigh House.” He turned to Perry. “Formal it might be, but it is also as it should be.”
Perry nodded and followed as Gideon moved toward the front entry and the carriage.
Perry couldn’t help but chuckle. “So, dear brother, what fresh hell have we to visit next?” he asked as they took their seats in the carriage.
Gideon shifted uncomfortably. “I need a dress shop,” he mumbled.
Perry dropped his walking cane, his jaw agape and eyes bulging. This time, Gideon was the one to chuckle.
The brothers entered the Iron Duke Taproom, laughing. “But will she like it?” Gideon asked.
“Ah, but she must. She has no choice,” Perry responded. They took a small table close to the front and a barmaid came over, sitting on Perry’s outstretched thigh. “Ah, Lucy, and how are you this fine evening?”
Gideon watched as Perry surveyed her curves with his hands and his eyes.
“The night’s much better since ye‘ve come ‘round, milord,” she said, glancing across the table at Gideon. “An’ who might yer ‘ansom friend be?” she asked, tittering.
“Wouldn’t you know, Lucy, this is my elder brother, the Duke of Roxleigh.”
“Well, well, Yer Grayce.” She drew the title over her tongue like she was wrapping tobacco. “P’raps the two a ye’re lookin’ fer some entertainment?” she asked wickedly, leaning hard on the table and pushing her cleavage toward him.
He glared at Perry, who laughed dismissively. “Unfortunately, my sweet, Roxleigh here is already quite taken with another buxom beauty.”
Gideon winced. He didn’t want others thinking of Francine’s bosom, buxom or no, even if his brother was merely goading him.
“Oh, ye know I dun mind tha, milord. I’ll no’ take ‘im, I’ll jus borra Yer Grayce fer a tiddle,” she said, pausing to look at Perry and sweeping her hand down his jaw. “As long as ye’re game to join.”
Gideon’s glare intensified as Perry’s eyes widened.
“Thank you for the invitation, precious, but we must decline such a—” He paused to appreciate her bosom. “—generous offer.” He smiled. “Ale?”
“Aye, milord,” she said.
Lucy sauntered off to the tap while heaving a sultry gaze over her shoulder at Gideon, who was still attempting to bore a hole into his brother’s head with his stare.
“Oh, come on, Giddy, it’s all in fun.”
“Do not call me that,” Gideon forced through clenched teeth.
Perry waved his hands in surrender. “Fine then, I beg off, you win. Let us simply drink our fill.”
Gideon nodded, looking down at the worn patterns on the pub table. “So she will like it?” he asked suddenly.
Perry chuckled. “She would be absurd not to.”
Gideon smiled, leaning back against the wall behind his bench, feeling heartily satisfied as Lucy returned and plopped two pints on the table in front of them.
“Monday night we attend the ball and Tuesday return to Eildon,” Perry said. “This has been a good day, Rox. One more day like this and you’ll have shattered all of my previous notions of what a stodgy boor you are. I cannot wait to reintroduce this new gentleman to society,” he finished with a flourish of his gloved hand.
Gideon grumbled.
“And with that, the new man is gone.” Perry’s flippancy brought the smile back to Gideon’s face.
“We shall see, after tomorrow, which of me you will be dragging to the next godforsaken function.”
“One thing I will say about this girl, she’s done much to ameliorate your overall demeanor. Last night’s ball was a great deal of fun.”
”She is not a girl, but a woman,” Gideon said, then shrugged. “And I am not so sure about that.”
“Which part are you unsure of?”
Gideon sat back with his ale, ignoring the question. “So... Have you?” He motioned toward Lucy as he took a drink of his ale.
“Have I? Oh... Lucy? No, not... No. She’s had a bit too much fun for my taste.”
Gideon nodded. “And what about the other bit?” He watched his brother’s expression, waiting for his comprehension.
Perry grinned widely. “Well, not in the way she offered—I’ve certainly never rubbed cocks with another. Now an abundance of breasts, that’s something I have done.”
Gideon shook his head. Perry laughed and waggled his brows, tipping his ale to his brother, then back.
Amberly Shaw took the paperwork with him to breakfast. He wanted to delve into all aspects of the manor, and, more than anything, he wanted to impress the duke when he returned. He knew if he could complete this appointment successfully he would be well on his way to making a respected name for himself. Not to mention the estate party the duke was planning for the end of summer; if his name were associated with the project, it would be a great boon to his reputation.
He took breakfast on the back terrace overlooking the gardens that he’d lost himself in only the day before. He was enchanted. Beyond the landscape, the air this far north in England was pure and clean, begging one to breathe deeply with every step outside, and the light was indescribably beautiful—gentle and colorful and not the least bit harsh or difficult on the eyes.
Shaw learned that one of the other hills held the ruins of an old Roman fort known as Trimontium, and he hoped to be able to explore the site before his return to London. He took another deep breath, leaning his head back and looking up at the bright blue, cloudless sky. He wasn’t getting a bit of work done here. He sat up, finishing his breakfast as quickly as possible before walking to the heart of the manor to find the library.
He spent most of his time at the old drafting table, studying the rough plans Roxleigh had drawn up. With the help of Aldon, one of the footmen, he made needed measurements and completed a sketch of the grounds and primary floors. He examined a missing section in the sketch at the center of the north wing, behind the families’ suites. He must have missed one of the passages or servant suites, and would have to return later to measure it.
While the manor was a frustrating web of confusing passages with adjoining suites and rooms, it was not quite as difficult as the hedgerow labyrinth. Shaw marveled at how easily Miss Francine had
navigated it. She must have discovered the key. Even the most complex of labyrinths had a key; a perfect example was the Heatherton Maze, where two rights for every left would take you to the center.
Even from the balcony it wasn’t possible to see more than the first two rows that made up the maze, because they loomed over the interior hedgerows, blocking any pattern from sight. He would have to ask Miss Francine about the key the next time he saw her, though she was doing a very good job of keeping to herself. She had probably realized how inappropriate their visit had been and was avoiding him until a chaperone was available.
He leaned away from the table. The more involved he became in Eildon, the more mysteries appeared. He decided to quit the assessment until another day and rose to return to his suite, but his jacket caught on something.
He bent and inspected the brass hook, then pulled it. The top of the drafting table popped up, and he moved his sketches and plans aside, then lifted the desk top. Inside were stacks of plans that, upon closer inspection, proved to detail the manor and several of the larger outbuildings.
He sat back down at the drafting table and started comparing the plans and making notes.
When Gideon and Perry finally returned to the town house Sunday night, Sanders met them with a silver salver bearing a letter. Gideon exchanged his greatcoat and top hat for the letter, and Sanders turned to Perry, his arm outstretched.
“Thank you, Sanders, but I won’t be staying.”
Sanders turned from the entrance.
Gideon opened the letter, expecting a simple update from Mrs. Weston, but the message brought him up stiffly. He handed the note to Perry. “I have to leave. Ferry!” He ran up the stairs.
“Rox, wait,” Perry called as he followed, scanning the letter.
“It’s Meggie from Eildon. Her sister was attacked outside of Kelso and apparently there’s reason to believe that the man who did it was after Francine. I have to get back. She could be in danger.”
Perry ran back down the stairs, then paused to turn and point at his brother. “I will pack and inform my staff. Do not leave without me,” he said, then ran from Roxleigh House.
The brothers were under way within the hour.
Francine woke suddenly in the night at the sound of a carriage. She jumped from the bed and ran to the window. The outriders descended from the carriage, opening the door for the dark figure that stepped down. “Roxleigh,” she sighed. Her heart jumped when she saw another man exit the carriage. There are two of them.
She pressed against the window to get a better view. The first man was definitely not Roxleigh—his movements were too fluid, too smooth. The man on the right, the one who had just stepped down, this was her duke.
She shook her head. He wasn’t hers. She shouldn’t feel so possessive of him. Roxleigh straightened and turned to look directly at her window, forcing her back a step into the shadows. Considering his obsession with proper behavior, upsetting him before he even walked back into the manor seemed a bad idea.
The first man said something when Roxleigh looked up. She watched him nod in response. Then, with a great flourish, the stranger turned toward her and bowed, a broad grin lighting his face.
Roxleigh scowled and said something else, making the man chuckle.
There was no doubt that they knew she was watching. The other man stood up straight, still smiling, and put his arm on Roxleigh’s stoic shoulder. They were similar, but even the subtle differences in manner and expression were apparent from where she stood.
She sighed but didn’t move back to the window, knowing that if they were able to see anything of her now it would only be her nightgown. When the stranger moved to enter the manor, she moved forward and placed one hand flat against the pane to welcome Roxleigh home.
The night air was electric, as if a great storm loomed on the horizon. She could feel the static gathering, looking to release the charge. Her body tensed as she stepped back again, willing herself to bed even though her nerves were on edge. She curled up in a tight ball against the chilly sheets, drawing them around her, trying to create a cocoon to hold her warmth. She smiled as she drifted asleep, feeling safer than she had since he’d left.
The tender gesture of her hand on the window caused Gideon’s stomach to tighten and his resolve to melt—he wanted nothing more than to be with her. At the same moment his brother turned to look at him, and he dropped his gaze from her chamber window, following. “Good God, man, must you act like a dandy?” he grumbled, marching past him.
Perry followed Gideon up the grand staircase as Stapleton appeared. “Your Grace, we had not received word.”
“There’s no need to fuss. We are to retire, as should you. There will be no further disturbance.”
“We, Your Grace?” Stapleton asked before he noticed Perry. “My lord Trumbull, I did not— I will have your rooms readied immediately,” he said, turning on his heel and shuffling into the darkness of the first floor as yet another sleepy face appeared.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Weston said with a sleepy smile. “Oh, my lord! Welcome home,” she said excitedly, pushing past Gideon to embrace Perry. He squeezed her hard, lifting her from her feet.
“Oh, I see how easily I’m to be displaced.” Gideon folded his arms as he waited.
“My lord... Peregrine, you need to unhand me!”
“Why yes, of course I do, but it’s been so long since I’ve had the chance to unsettle you, I couldn’t resist.”
Mrs. Weston pulled away from him, straightening her robe. She adored Perry. He was such a wonderfully happy soul, and he brought an air of lightness with him whenever he visited. She realized that as much lightness as he brought, his older brother carried just as much tension. She sobered.
“Your Grace, I haven’t said anything to Miss Francine. We’ve kept a close eye on her, but I didn’t think you’d want me to be the one to tell her.”
“I take it the entire household is aware?”
“Indeed, Your Grace, I thought it necessary the staff know of any danger.”
“Certainly. Thank you for your astute assessment, and for notifying me so quickly. As always, you are an irreplaceable asset.”
Perry burst out laughing and Gideon rolled his eyes, then turned toward his suite.
Mrs. Weston admonished Perry for his insolence with a stern look and a light smack on the shoulder. He stifled his laughter, accepting her reprimand with a smile. “So, Westy, do tell me of this mystery woman. Everything. Leave nothing out.”
“Well, I don’t see how that would do much good right now, do you? Tis the middle of the night!”
“Nonetheless, I want every detail. I imagine Gideon may need a few strong pushes in the right direction,” he said as Mrs. Weston stared at him with wide eyes.
“Perry, you do not think—”
“No, Westy, I do not... I know,” he replied, giving her the grandest smile he could muster.
Mrs. Weston drew her hands together, clapping with excitement. “Well in that case, I’ve slept entirely too much lately, anyway. Let us go chat.” She headed toward the kitchen. “How about some kippers and milk?” she said with a wink.
“Kippers, yes,” he replied with a flash of teeth, “but big boys drink whiskey,” He returned the wink.
Mrs. Weston smacked his shoulder. “You are an irrepressible rogue.”
Francine rose as soon as Mrs. Weston entered. She had slept soundly, and looked forward to seeing Roxleigh in ways she couldn’t explain. Her skin was tight over her muscles, she could feel every breath she took down to her toes, and every shift of fabric and air around her made her jump.
“Up already, Miss Francine?” Mrs. Weston asked as she filled the tub. “His Grace returned last night.” Francine perked up, listening intently. “Lord Trumbull, his brother, accompanied him.”
Of course, he has a brother.
“His younger brother,” Mrs. Weston clarified. “Lord Trumbull spends his time at his bachelor house in London. It’s not often he makes
his way home. Actually, I don’t think I’ve seen Trumbull in some two long years,” she said wistfully.
The housekeeper poured vanilla and lavender into the tub. “Oh, I do go on. I beg your pardon, miss, I just adore the boys. Known them for the whole of their lives, you see. But it isn’t right for me to go on,” she said, shaking her head.
Francine smiled, walking over to the tub and sliding in, as Mrs. Weston turned to take the kettles out of the bedroom. Francine sighed as she sank, disappearing below the surface.
“I am impressed with what you’ve drawn up so far, Mr. Shaw. You must be off in the north wing, however, because you haven’t missed any rooms or passages. It’s not an issue—as dark as some of the passages are, they could have easily been misread. I will assist you so we can verify them properly.” Gideon looked up. “I trust you arrived safely and found your suite accommodating?”
“Of course, Your Grace, you are most considerate, and I would very much appreciate your assistance with verifying the measurements.”
“I am curious about the hedgerow sketch. You have a general idea of the perimeter shape, as well as the fountain. Were you able to navigate the maze yourself?”
“No, Your Grace, at least not well. In fact—” He paused and shifted. “To my disgrace I lost myself quite effectively, which has never happened. Even without a key I’m generally quite spatially adept, but since I also seem to have created space in your manor that doesn’t exist, I choose to believe it is the manor itself which is attempting to bamboozle me.”
Gideon let out a laugh. “So if Eildon Manor is bamboozling you, how did you find your way out?”
“Miss Francine, actually.”
Gideon stilled. “And how is that?”
“Well, Your Grace, she must know the key. She found me in the maze, took me to see the fountain, then brought me back out again without so much as one incorrect turn.”
Gideon felt his muscles tense through his abdomen. What Shaw said wasn’t possible, as there was no key. Gideon himself had memorized the maze out of sheer determination.
