Frances blinked, once again feeling as if she were being led into a trap. “Well, not exactly. But he did give me two rings,” she added as she held up her hands.
It was Tom’s turn to blink, and he sobered considerably. He turned to stare at Gabe. “How long have you been planning this?”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “I do believe I mentioned my... attraction to Mrs. Longworth the last time we met at White’s.”
While Frances had already turned her attention on Gabe—his comment suggested his regard for her had begun far sooner than the day before—Tom turned to stare at Gabe in disbelief. For perhaps a moment too long, for he remembered that conversation. Attraction wasn’t exactly the word Gabe had used to describe the pleasant young woman who sat across from him now, her manner at times overly sober and skittish and at other times downright playful.
He almost wished he had met her first.
“So you did,” Tom replied slowly, just then remembering how they had teased Gabe. How he and James, in their half-drunk states at the time, had placed bets on a wedding taking place. He turned his gaze back on Frances. “So, Mrs. Longworth—
“Call me Frances, please,” she murmured.
“So Frances, when is the wedding?”
Frances took a careful breath. “Well, if Mr. Wellingham can secure a marriage license on the morrow, then I suppose the ceremony can happen in... a few weeks?”
“If he springs for a special license, you can be wed in a few days,” Tom countered. Then he remembered the terms of the bet. “Or you could wait six months.”
Tom had to suppress the urge to yell out in pain as Gabe’s foot impacted his shin.
“Six months seems rather a long time,” Frances murmured.
An odd sensation filling his chest, Gabe reached out and covered one of her hands with his. He turned back to Tom and asked, “Will you stand with me?” He wanted nothing more than to be rid of his cousin so that he might take Frances into his arms and kiss her senseless.
“Just let me know when and where,” Tom said as he stood up, his expression suggesting he had just remembered something very important.
Something about James Burroughs. About his sister. And Henry.
“What is it?” Frances asked, rising to her feet.
“Something tells me I should head directly to Woodscastle,” Tom replied as he quickly pulled on his gloves.
“Is something wrong?”
“My sister is hosting James Burroughs at Woodscastle until he can find suitable lodgings in town,” he reminded her. “And other than a few servants, there is no one else staying there.”
Frances’ eyes darted to one side. “She doesn’t have a companion?”
Tom shook his head. “Given she’s never been left at home alone before, it’s not been necessary.”
“You don’t believe James will do anything... inappropriate?” Gabe asked, remembering the banker’s conversation at White’s.
“Probably not.” Tom’s response wasn’t said with much conviction, though. He gave a bow, and Frances dipped a curtsy. “So good to meet you, Frances. I look forward to welcoming you to the family,” he said, just before he took his leave.
Gabe watched him go and was about to move to Frances’ side, but Tom’s sudden change of character had him following his cousin instead. “Pardon me. I’m going to see him out.”
“Of course.”
When Gabe caught up to Tom in the hall, he said, “If you’re worried Burroughs would do something... untoward, I rather doubt it’s in his character.” They continued to the front door, Tom’s pace quickening.
“It’s not what he would do that worries me,” Tom replied.
Gabe stared at him, and then he inhaled slowly. “I think I know who her betrothed was,” he murmured.
“The only dead man of our acquaintance who might have proposed to her was Henry Burroughs,” Tom whispered.
“James’ older brother,” Gabe said as he nodded, but then his brows furrowed. “Surely James would have known his brother and your sister were betrothed.”
Tom shook his head. “I didn’t know she was betrothed,” he whispered, as he took his hat and coat from Barclay. Despite a blast of cold air, he slowly made his way out the door and into a flurry of snowflakes to his town coach.
Chapter 30
Breakfast for Three
An hour later, at Woodscastle
Barely conscious, Emily saw light on the other side of her eyelids, and she knew the sun was fully above the horizon. The staff had enjoyed an early breakfast and had already departed for church, so the entire household was eerily quiet.
She opened one eye to regard the clock on the mantle above the fireplace and had to open the other to confirm that it was nearly ten o’clock in the morning. She inhaled, not intending to wake the man on whom she was mostly covering with her body.
“Is it after noon?” he asked in a whisper.
“No,” she said as her lips curved into a grin.
A distant thud had her on alert.
“What is it?”
The same thud occurred again. The front door opening and shutting. A male voice. Humphrey’s baritone.
Emily scrambled off of James and out of the bed. She bent to retrieve her night clothes. “I must go. Tom has just arrived,” she whispered.
Not nearly as alarmed as Emily, James watched her as she made a hasty retreat, not through the guest bedchamber’s door, but to a panel in the wall near the north corner of the room. “I adore your bum,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
Emily gave him a quelling glance as she pressed a spot in the panel along the wood trim.
James watched in fascination as the panel swung open and Emily disappeared behind it.
He had half a mind to follow her, and then remembered her comment about the secret passages that had been discovered in the house when her father had seen to renovations. That was back when Gregory Grandby took Christiana Wellingham to wife.
The year James had been born.
Settling back into the pillow, James inhaled slowly, reveling in the scent Emily had left behind. He wished she were still tucked up against him, her sleep-warm body a welcome addition to his bed.
He dozed for a bit, but opened his eyes when footfalls sounded on the steps leading up to this part of the manor.
When the hard knock—and then a rather impatient knock-knock—sounded at the door, he called out, “Come,” and wasn’t the least bit surprised when Tom Grandby opened the door and stepped into the room.
“Good morning,” James said as he sat up.
“No doubt it has been as good for you as it apparently was for Gabe,” Tom remarked, his manner most severe. His gaze swept the room, and he turned his attention back on James. “Where is she?”
Never having seen Tom so incensed, James blinked. He knew he could feign ignorance, but he had decided just the moment before that in this case, it wasn’t necessary. He already intended to bring up the topic of Emily and when he might marry her, so he thought to simply get the embarrassing part out of the way. Admit he had ruined Emily—even though he hadn’t—and asked when he might wed her.
And he was about to do so when Emily appeared behind her brother, fully dressed and with her hair done up in a bun atop her head. “Tom?” she called out. “Are you bothering our guest?” She moved up to stand just behind him.
Tom whirled around and stared at his sister. “Where have you been?”
Emily jerked back as if she had been slapped. “In the kitchens. I was just letting cook know to start breakfast. Would you care to join us? I can let him know there will be three of us.”
Tom glanced between her and James, relieved that James had at least lifted the edge of the bed linens so his bare chest was no longer on display. “I... I had breakfast with Gabe at Trenton House,” he finally replied.
“Oh, and how is our cousin?” Emily asked as she stepped up next to her brother. She winked at James.
“Betrothed.”
; Emily’s eyes widened, and James let out a whoop.
“Really, James. You sound as if you’ve won a wager,” Emily scolded.
“That’s because I have,” he said, the bed linens no longer covering his chest. “Just a small one,” he added, remembering the issue with gambling. “Well, that is if he is marrying the potter.”
Emily glanced at him and then at her brother. “Is he referring to Mrs. Longworth?”
“Indeed,” Tom murmured, his face displaying a reddish cast due to embarrassment at having barged in on his friend and now because James was doing nothing to hide his nakedness. “She was at Trenton House for breakfast this morning, and she was trying to decide if she was going to accept his offer.”
Emily knew immediately that if the young woman was there for breakfast, then she had probably spent the night at Trenton House. “He must hold her in high regard,” she said.
James angled his head. “Why do you say that?” he asked as he stepped out of the bed and moved into the dressing room.
Tom boggled and quickly lifted a hand in front of Emily’s eyes. “James!”
“Oh, really Tom. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Emily said with a grin, rather excited at finally getting a glimpse of James in his naked glory. If only the drapes had been open, the room would have been lighter.
Tom’s eyes rounded, and his attention darted back to the dressing room door.
“I have four other brothers besides you,” Emily added on a huff, leaning casually against the door jamb. In a slightly louder voice, she said, “Although I don’t believe any of them can claim such an attractive bum.”
“Emily!” both Tom and James scolded.
She ignored them and said, “As I was saying, Gabe Wellingham must find Mrs. Longworth especially appealing. He wouldn’t consider a woman to be his wife unless she was as fetching as his mother and just as industrious.”
“Wellingham did say as much at White’s the other night,” James remarked, his head poking out from the dressing room.
“Well, she is that,” Tom murmured, his gaze turning back on his sister. “Although maybe from a more artistic standpoint.”
Emily gave a shrug. “She worked at Wedgwood’s studio, so I would expect her to be. Have you seen any of her ceramics?”
“I may have one in my office, in fact,” Tom replied dryly. “But as it happens, some of her best work is on display in Trenton House.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Commissioned pieces,” he added in explanation. “Vases, urns... quite beautiful pieces.”
“Well, good on her,” Emily said with a nod. “And good for Gabe. He’s a bit young, but he’s got a position and an inheritance to fall back on should he decide he doesn’t wish to work for his living.” Her attention went to the dressing room door. “Darling, do you need any help with your buttons?” she called out.
James peeked around the corner again, his head angled sideways. “Thank you, love, but no. I’ll just be a moment.”
His mouth dropping open, Tom stared at his sister. “Have you...?” he eyed her with suspicion.
“Have I what?” Her response sounded more like a challenge than a simple question, which had Tom’s brows furrowing.
His voice lowering to a hoarse whisper, he asked, “Have you been entertaining our guest?”
Emily’s eyes blazed as her hands went to her hips, but before she could reply, James stepped out of the dressing room, fully clothed but for socks and shoes. “You be careful what you say to the future Mrs. Burroughs,” James warned. “Or I’ll meet you out back for a row in the snow.”
Tom’s eyes widened, and then he blinked. “Future Mrs. Burroughs?” he repeated, his gaze going back to Emily.
She displayed an ever-so-prim grin. “He proposed last night. In the gardens. Bernard and Mathilda were there to make sure everything was above board.”
“Who’s Bernard?” Tom’s expression had changed from anger to one of confusion.
“My sister’s dog,” James said as he pulled on his socks and tied the garters.
“And Mathilda is our cow,” Emily offered helpfully.
“I know who Mathilda is,” Tom replied in a huff. “How long has this been—?”
“I fell in love with your sister over tea that first day I came here,” James said as he pulled on his shoes. “But I didn’t realize it until a couple of days ago.”
Emily regarded him with wonder. “Likewise,” she murmured. “But I must admit I feared you thought only to do right by your brother.”
“What about his brother?” Tom asked, once again confused.
“Oh, I was betrothed to Henry,” Emily admitted, deciding it was no longer necessary to keep it a secret.
“Over my dead body,” her brother replied, his anger once again apparent.
“You mean his?” James put in, coming to his feet to regard his future brother-in-law with a look of resignation.
“No. I mean mine,” Tom argued. Then, as if he realized he might have overreacted, he dipped his head. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to speak ill of the dead.”
From the look she saw crossing his face, Emily knew then that Tom had knowledge of Henry’s debts. There was no other reason for him to be so angry about the man.
James stepped over to the dressing table and scooped up the two rings. He shoved them into a pocket and then moved to stand before Tom. “Perhaps we can finish this discussion over breakfast. I’m starving.”
“Of course,” Tom said with a nod.
James offered Emily his arm, and she placed hers on it. Wordless, the three made their way down the stairs and into the dining room just as Humphrey appeared with dishes for the sideboard. Coffee was poured and plates were filled, and once the three were seated, Tom was the first to speak.
“Who knew you were betrothed to Henry?”
Emily allowed a sigh. “Only Mother and Lady Andrew. You and Father had left to go up north the day after Christina’s wedding, so there was no one for Henry to speak with.”
“I remember that day,” Tom murmured. He looked to James. “Did you know about your brother?”
“About the gambling debt?” James countered, deciding he could get to the crux of the matter. At Tom’s nod, James indicated Emily and said, “Not until yesterday.”
“You knew?”
Emily nodded. “I knew something was wrong. One week he was the happiest man in all of England, and the next week, he looked as if he wanted to die. The week after that, he did,” she explained. “But he told me when he first fell ill that his life was in danger. That he needed money to pay off a debt.”
“Emily thought to save him by hocking the betrothal ring he had given her,” James explained as he took up the story. “But she had a copy made first.” He pulled the two rings out of his pocket and placed them on the table.
“What?” Emily put her fork on her plate as she regarded the identical rings. Although she had seen them on his dressing table the night before, she hadn’t realized one was hers.
“Isn’t one of those the ring you’ve been wearing on a chain recently?” Tom asked. Then his gaze lifted to meet James’. “I recognize those rings.”
“No doubt. There must be... ten or fifteen of them in our family alone.”
“What?” Emily asked again. “Which one is which?”
James gave his head a shake. “It doesn’t matter. They’re all the same.”
“But the one I was wearing was a copy,” she argued.
“A copy, yes. But it’s not paste as you thought.” He lifted each one in turn and showed her the marks on the insides of the gold bands. “See here? This is the mark of the goldsmith who fashioned the piece.”
“But... I didn’t pay that much to the jeweler who made it,” she claimed.
James considered her words a moment. “He probably didn’t have to make anything. He just pulled out another from the stash he already had on hand.” He regarded the ring he still held and then reached for her right hand.
“If it’s all right with you, I’ll give you this one for now, but find something unique to give you for when we wed,” he said as he slid the ring onto her fourth finger.
Emily stared at him and then turned her attention to the familiar ring. “I don’t understand,” she said with a shake of her head.
“I think I might,” Tom said as he plucked the other ring from the table. He regarded it in the light from the overhead chandelier and made a sound in the back of his throat. “I’d wager there are, hmm...” He held out a hand with his fingers splayed out and started counting as he murmured names, all of them descendants of Margaret Merriweather Burroughs, Duchess of Ariley, and Mary Margaret Merriweather Grandby, Countess of Torrington.
The two sisters had at least fourteen sons and grandsons between them, and since Tom had one in his jewel box, he figured all the great-grandsons had them as well. “At least twenty of these,” he finished, finally having lost count of the great-grandsons.
James chuckled. “So you think both my grandmother and your great-grandmother gave these to all the boys to use as betrothal rings?”
“They did indeed,” Tom nodded. He settled back in his chair and allowed a chuckle. “And the reason I know that is because I saw that same ring just a couple of hours ago.”
“On Mrs. Longworth’s finger,” Emily breathed.
“Indeed.” Then Tom sobered. “You said you hocked one to pay Henry’s debt?”
Emily nodded. “A few days before he died. He told me everything whilst he suffered a fever. I thought he would recover, and I just wanted him back to the way he had been that first week he courted me.” She sighed. “But then the more I discovered about him, the less I wanted to marry him.”
“And yet you’ve agreed to marry his brother,” Tom teased.
“Half-brother, yes,” Emily replied.
Tom furrowed his brows and turn his attention to James. “Dare I ask?”
James shook his head. “A tale for another time,” he sighed. “I only just learned of it. I’ll tell you about it tonight at White’s.”
“Gabe will join us there,” Tom said. “I rather imagine he will have much to explain.”
The Puzzle of a Bastard Page 23
