The three resumed eating their breakfasts, and conversation ceased until Tom asked, “Have you a date in mind to wed? The rest of the family probably won’t return from Woodscastle until the end of February.”
“I’m not waiting that long,” Emily stated.
“I’m not getting any younger,” James added.
“Special license?” Tom guessed.
James nodded. “If you’ll give your blessing, yes.”
“Won’t Mother be upset?” Tom asked, directing his gaze on his youngest sister.
Her eyes widened and then she allowed a giggle. “Don’t you mean relieved? I’m sure she’s had quite enough of weddings in this family.” She paused a moment. “But I know she would dearly love to see you exchange vows with some lovely young lady.”
Tom’s eyes widened, but the words reminded him of the woman he had just met the day before. “I’m sure she would,” he murmured.
He wasn’t about to say anything else.
Chapter 31
A Woman Says Yes
The hour before, in the breakfast parlor at Trenton House
“Surely he doesn’t believe his sister will do something scandalous,” Frances said when Gabe returned from having seen Tom to the door.
Gabe didn’t return to his seat at the table but rather moved to stand next to her chair. Leaning over, he kissed her first on the cheek and then on the lips. When he finally pulled away, he allowed a long sigh. “I have wanted to do that since before he arrived,” he complained.
The corners of her lips lifting at hearing his words, Frances said, “Something tells me you’re not a patient man.”
He pulled his chair over so he could sit next to her. “I am when it comes to most things in life. But not with you. If you did not agree to wed me until... next year, I could go on just fine knowing I would eventually have you at my side, for the rest of my life,” he explained quietly. “But if you hadn’t given me an answer, or... or if you had told me to sod off, my lack of patience would have had me doing some rather pathetic pleading and cajoling and behaving in a most immature manner.” He noticed how she didn’t argue. “And you would, of course, tell me I was being an idiot.”
She grinned. “I would, although I would couch it in much more polite terms,” she agreed. She leaned over and kissed him, rather liking how shocked he looked, his eyes wide open. When she pulled away, the grin returned to her lips. “You didn’t close your eyes,” she accused.
“Neither did you,” he whispered, pulling one of her hands to his lips so he could kiss the back of her knuckles. “What would you like to do today?”
The query was filled with what sounded like mischief, but Frances could only think of practical matters just then. “Are you certain you wish me to live here? Before the wedding?”
“Absolutely.”
“Your neighbors—”
“Are mostly gone from London this time of year,” he interrupted. “And for those that are still here, I will have Barclay remind the staff that you are a colleague and staying at the behest of the earl. Just until we’re married.”
Frances gave him a dubious glance. She knew she would be unable to talk him out of allowing her to return to Mrs. Hough’s house for more than just her things. Then she remembered what Thompson had said about the footman and maid who had been sent to pack her belongings. “I should go home and help with the packing.”
“It’s already being done,” Gabe said, his gaze darting to the door. “In fact, I expect the footman and maid who were dispatched earlier this morning will return shortly, if they haven’t already.”
If Thompson hadn’t told her earlier that morning, Frances knew she would be shocked at hearing his words. “But, Gabe, how will they... how will they know what is mine and what belongs to Mrs. Hough?”
“They know not to bring any of the furnishings, of course, but everything else in your room belongs to you, does it not?”
“I... I suppose.”
“And Mrs. Hough would not allow them to take anything that belonged to her.”
She furrowed a brow and finally nodded. “True. You needn’t have troubled your servants on a Sunday, though. I feel awful about causing them extra work.”
“Neither attends church services, and I have seen to it they will earn a bit extra for their work today.”
Frances sighed. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Not usually.”
She gave a huff. “I should like to take David for a walk if it isn’t too cold.”
Gabe brightened at the mention of the babe. “We can go to the park,” he murmured. “There’s a pram we can use. I’ll have Barclay see that it’s made ready.”
“A perambulator?”
He nodded. “I think Mrs. Watkins has used it on occasion, but she always said it was too fancy for her children. I think it was my sister’s.”
“Sounds as if it will be too fancy for David,” Frances whispered.
“Nothing will be too good for him,” Gabe replied.
“I will not have you spoiling my son—”
“Our son.”
Frances couldn’t argue further when Gabe once again kissed her.
“Is that how you always intend to shut me up?” she asked when he finally ended the kiss.
“Will it work?” he asked, a brilliant smile appearing.
Frances dipped her head as a blush colored her face. “Probably.”
Gabe pulled the museum key from his waistcoat pocket and held it up. “Later, I shall go to the museum and look for the Apollo amphora.”
“I’m coming with you,” she said. “The search will go faster if there are two of us.”
“If you’d like,” he agreed, heartened she had offered. “Come. Let’s go up to the nursery and see what David is doing.” He stood and offered his arm, but Frances was regarding the dishes.
“I should like to clear away the breakfast—”
“Barclay will see to it,” Gabe replied. “There is much we need to discuss, and I wish to learn your opinion on a number of matters.”
She regarded him with curiosity. “Opinion?”
He nodded. “Housing first. I cannot yet afford to let a townhouse, but I have been told by my father that I can continue living here until such time that my brother inherits the earldom,” he explained. “My mother may have had something to do with his offer. Now that I have a position in town, she wants me to...” He allowed a shrug.
“Remain close?” Frances offered.
“Indeed,” he replied. “I think she fears me taking lodgings in a building of bachelors. Spending my nights at gaming hells or...” He allowed the sentence to trail off, knowing he shouldn’t suggest he might spend time at a brothel. “Are you amenable to remaining here until I can use some of my inheritance to buy us a house?”
Frances allowed a grin as they climbed the stairs. “I am more than amenable.” She furrowed her brows. “Do we then share your bedchamber?”
Gabe shook his head. “Oh, no. If you like it, you can remain in the Peach Room. Which I hope you’ll do, because there is a connecting door to my suite by way of the dressing room.”
She allowed a gasp. “You said the two rooms weren’t connected,” she accused.
“The bedchambers are not. Just the dressing rooms,” he countered, managing to keep a straight face.
“You could have come into my room that way last night.”
“I almost did,” he admitted. “But I feared you might clobber me with the fireplace poker.” They rounded the stairs to go up to the next floor.
“But if I’m using the guest bedchamber, then where will future guests stay?”
“In one of the others.”
Frances stopped mid-flight. “One of the others? How many guest bedchambers are there?”
Gabe seemed to count in his head a moment. “At least three, but Barclay would know for certain.” He urged her to continue climbing. “I’ll have him see to hiring a lady’s maid for you—
“Wh
at about Thompson? It seems a waste to hire another maid if she’s able to do it.”
“If you like her, and if she has the skills required—”
“Skills?”
Gabe nodded. “Well, it’s evident she can style your hair, but she’ll have to be the one to see to your clothes, help you dress, and prepare for bed. Help you bathe—”
“You mean you will not?”
Gabe was so surprised by her question, he stopped mid-flight. “If I’m allowed, I would gladly do so,” he replied, his manner rather serious. “But I must warn you that there may be occasions when I will end up in the tub with you—”
“You say that as if you think I will mind.”
“—Because we’ll both need to be ready to leave for the museum at the same time in the mornings, so we can ride in the town coach together.”
“No dawdling, of course,” she said.
“Well, maybe an occasional dawdle,” Gabe argued as he resumed climbing the stairs. His expression remained serious despite his teasing words.
“I look forward to it,” Frances murmured, a grin touching her lips. “What else must we discuss?”
“I should like to hire a modiste for you.”
“But why?”
“You’ll need dinner gowns. A ball gown or two. Something for the theatre.”
Frances was about to put voice to a protest—she hadn’t thought of what might be expected of an earl’s son with regard to social engagements. Instead she asked, “Do you expect we’ll receive invitations for such events?”
“Well... I already do,” he replied. “My legitimacy, or lack thereof, has little bearing when it comes to social engagements. My father has recognized me as his son, so I am afforded the same regard as my younger brother. More so, perhaps, since he is still in university.”
Nodding her understanding, Frances stayed abreast of him as they turned to climb the next flight of stairs.
“Do you ride?” he asked.
“Not since I was a child.”
“Did you like it?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then I can see to acquiring a horse for you, although Anne may not take her mount with her to Worthington House. I’m sure Hexham has a decent horse for her in his stable.”
“I suppose I don’t need to mention my lack of riding clothes,” Frances said as they made it to the third floor.
“The modiste can make you a riding habit or two,” Gabe said as they approached the nursery. “And until then, we can simply ride in the barouche or on my father’s phaeton.”
“Or walk,” Frances suggested.
Gabe grinned. “Or walk.”
The door to the middle of the three rooms was open, and the high-pitched voices of children filtered out.
They paused at the threshold, and Frances inhaled softly. There, in the middle of the floor was her son sitting atop a blanket, his gaze captured by the antics of two young children involved in building a tower with brightly painted wooden blocks.
When the tower wavered with the addition of a block on top, the young girl—Frances guessed she was about six—sucked in a breath. Meanwhile the boy, at least that old and perhaps older, scurried backwards and groaned as the tower crumpled and the blocks scattered everywhere.
David giggled as a block tumbled toward him and came to rest against his foot. Sure he would lift it to his mouth, Frances was about to step in when Mrs. Watkins knelt and offered him a rattle instead. The boy retrieved the block as David’s attention went to the rattle.
“Is he always this happy?” Gabe asked.
Frances shook her head. “Until today, I never heard him make such a sound.”
“But he has smiled before?” he half-asked.
She nodded. “When I’ve returned from work. I just thought he did so because he knew he was about to get his dinner.”
“I’m of the same mind as him with regard to your charms, but for a very different reason,” Gabe whispered.
“Gabe!” she scolded, a flush coloring her cheeks.
“Good morning, Mrs. Watkins,” Gabe said when the woman noticed them at the door. “We’ve come to get David.”
“Ah, Mrs. Longworth, Mr. Wellingham, good morning,” the older woman said as she made her way toward them. “One of the footmen is seeing to the pram right now. I expect it’s already in the front hall for ye.”
Frances and Gabe exchanged quick glances. “I hadn’t had a chance to speak with Barclay about the perambulator,” Gabe said.
“Och, I saw to mentioning it to him first thing, when I took my own tykes out whilst you were busy with the babe. Chilly morning, but those two don’t seem to mind,” she added as she indicated her own children.
“Do you take care of other children besides your own?” Frances asked, remembering there were more rooms off the nursery.
“Oh, aye. One of the housemaids has a toddler. He’s with her today seein’ as how it’s Sunday,” Mrs. Watkins said as she lifted David into her arms. “Now, he’s got a fresh nappy on, so he should be set until you return.”
“Thank you,” Frances said as she took the babe into her arms. His grin widened as he regarded her, the rattle making noise as he shook his hand in excitement.
“We won’t be gone long,” Gabe said to the nanny.
“I’ll be here when you return,” she replied as she pulled several small blankets from a bureau. “Take these to keep him warm,” she instructed, “and by the time ye return, I should have his nursery all set up proper like.” She indicated the room next door.
Frances blinked, her gaze following the nanny’s to see that there was, indeed, a room set up for a baby. “His nursery?”
“Oh, aye. His things arrived from the hotel just a few minutes ago, and the footman saw to moving the bassinet in there for me. I just have to put away his clothes and set up a bucket for his nappies.”
Curious, Frances stepped into the small room, her attention quickly going to a valise. Inside were David’s gowns, nappies, blankets, and other clothes.
“Is everything there?”
Frances gave a start as Gabe wrapped an arm around her waist. He took David from her, relieved when the babe settled onto his bent arm without complaint.
“It looks like it,” she murmured as she knelt down. “I never dreamed he would have his own room.” She rummaged through the valise, relieved to see that the housemaid had managed to find all the baby things. But of course she would, she thought as she remembered there was only the one chest of drawers. The boarding house room offered little in the way of furnishings and only included a single cupboard for kitchen items.
When David squealed, she gasped and looked up to see Gabe lifting the babe into the air above his head, much like he had done earlier that morning. She nearly burst into tears.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he bent down, David tucked against one shoulder.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” she whispered. “It’s just that, at any moment, I’m going to wake up, and it’s not going to be...”
She couldn’t finish when Gabe pulled her to standing with his free arm and settled his lips over hers. When he finally ended the kiss, he left his forehead pressed against hers. “This had better be real,” he murmured. “For what else would explain why my sleeve is wet beneath your son’s bottom?”
Her eyes widening, Frances pulled her head from against his. “Don’t you mean our son?” she asked as a grin touched her lips.
Gabe smiled and kissed her quickly.
“I do.”
Chapter 32
A Perplexing Plot over a Pot
Later that day, in the Roman and Greek exhibit hall, British Museum
Using the key Tom had given him that morning, Gabe opened one of the front doors of Montagu House and slipped inside. Frances followed, cringing when she heard Gabe’s boot heels tapping on the marble floor.
“You were wise to wear slippers,” he whispered, as they made their way to the hall where the recent Greek and Roman
acquisitions were on display.
“Are we expecting anyone to be here?”
“The east wing includes quarters for some of the employees,” he replied. “So only if they decide to look at the exhibits.”
Frances gave a huff. “I would have liked the option of living here,” she murmured.
“Then you would have had to have been a curator or a keeper,” he replied. “Or a custodian.” After they turned a corner and were near the Greek exhibits, he added, “I rather doubt those quarters can hold a candle to the Peach Room.”
Grinning, Frances agreed.
Gabe hurried up to the amphora featuring Apollo. With Frances’ help, he removed his top coat and shoved his arm through the narrow opening at the top, his fingers just barely grazing the bottom of the pot. He felt the pasteboard card and sighed.
“Is it in there?” Frances asked. She had the other calling cards in her pocket, rescued from the dining table in Trenton House.
Gabe pulled it out and held it between two fingers, his disappointment obvious.
“So this is from the collection that Mr. Burroughs donated,” Frances stated.
“Which means the other one that is very similar to this one is missing,” Gabe murmured. “The one for which I have papers.”
“Papers but no pot. Do you think it’s stolen?”
His expression displayed confusion. “Before I show this card and the empty crate to Mr. Harris, I think I should do a thorough search. Your shelves, my office, Mr. Harris’ office, the receiving area,” he listed as a hand raked through his curls.
“It would be terribly hard to hide given its size,” Frances remarked. “But if it looks like this—”
“It does,” he affirmed.
“Then at least I know what I’m looking for,” she said. When she noticed his expression, she added, “You needn’t look so glum.”
“I would hate to think that someone who works here is a thief,” Gabe said, pulling on his topcoat and readjusting his sleeves. “But if we cannot find that amphora, then I will have to report it as missing.”
The Puzzle of a Bastard Page 24
