by Eliza Lloyd
“For me, certainly. What man doesn’t want a docile wife?” he asked.
“An intelligent one, I would think?”
Gabriel laughed. “What in God’s name did Lady Fortenay teach you out in the wilds of Dorset?
The servant tapped at the door and pushed in carrying the tray. Never just what was asked for but an abundance that would feed a small party. The servant had brought along a clean poker and set that in the fire embers before she returned to set a small table in front of Nora.
“You weren’t jesting about the pickles, were you?” he asked when the small bowls were set to the table.
“No, I wasn’t. They are delicious. Your cooks must have a special recipe. Would you tell them, please?” Nora said, directing her request to the servant. “I especially like the small, sweet ones.”
“I will, my lady.” The servant plucked up the hot iron and stirred it in the wine, warming the contents of the cup before handing it to Nora, and then one for Gabriel. “Will there be anything else, my lady?”
“No thank you, Darla.”
“There is no surer way of obtaining sweets late at night than regularly complimenting the cooks,” Gabriel said.
“Well, if it’s true, I will shower them with praise.”
Gabriel sipped at his own negus, longing for a whisky instead. The servant hurried from the room, leaving them alone again.
“Why don’t you go on to the Radcliffe Ball? You don’t need me there and you might enjoy an evening with your friends,” Nora suggested.
“I’ll spend the evening with you. I have been enjoying our time together as improbable as that is. I think we have a lifetime of information to exchange before we’ll understand a small bit about each other.”
“We have the pickle thing.”
“It’s a start.”
“Carlow, I have something important to tell you. It’s important that I be direct and unflinching in my assessment.”
“I’ve never known you to be otherwise.”
“It’s not too late. You can claim fraud, for surely it is. We should end this before we are tied irrevocably.”
He held a steady gaze. Nothing about Nora surprised him. “What about Henbury Hall?”
“I will find some other way. Perhaps you will sell it to me when I have the funds. I know that sounds silly since you know much of my circumstance. But I’ve come to see my actions for what they are: selfish, presuming, pig-headed.”
“And once we are divorced or the marriage annulled, what will you do?” He didn’t doubt the sincerity of her words. He believed that she believed what she was saying in the moment. He also knew that Henbury Hall was too big a temptation to believe that for long.
“Return to Whitmarsh. There were a few landowners who would take me to wife. I can live my life as I was meant to: simply.”
“Hmm.” Now she was outright lying. Not for a minute did she believe she was meant to live simply, whatever that meant.
“You know I’m right.”
“Are you able to continue pickpocketing there? Will you have to bear ten children? Will he dress you in silks?”
“Sarcastic as your statement is, I’m not sure any of those things are pertinent to this discussion of our future,” she snipped.
“Well, there is another option. Much more realistic, in my opinion.” Gabriel hesitated to say it, but she turned to look at him with real expectation. “Granted, it would be a bigger sacrifice than either a divorce or an annulment.”
“What?”
“No. No, it would be too difficult for both of us.”
“Tell me,” she demanded.
He leaned toward her. “We could stay married and forget all this emotional claptrap. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were playing more games.”
“Now you are making me angry.”
“You? I am the one who should be angry from the first deception. But, for the strangest reason, I’m not. And I’m willing to give you almost anything except the silliest of all things, a divorce. No one obtains a divorce no matter how egregious their marital circumstances are.”
“Another thing Lady Fortenay thinks is rank foolishness.”
“Of course, she does. Oh, I cannot wait to meet this woman. I have a few things I want to say to her.” Gabriel started to pace. “Are we in agreement? Or do you have more demands?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Nora wasn’t docile even when she pretended docility.
“I’ve a mind to leave for Henbury Hall first thing in the morning so we can settle this once and for all.” And now, he was lying.
“And then we can divorce?”
He laughed. “Oh, my dear. If you want a divorce now, I can’t imagine your reaction once you see Henbury Hall.” If only he had a good way to reveal the truth, one that wasn’t going to cause her immeasurable heartache.
Chapter Six
The note from Ellis Rawden wasn’t a surprise. His father had died overnight. Gabriel felt the pain his friend was experiencing, since his own father had died nearly a year ago. For the new Earl of Fromme and Rode it would be a life-changing experience. Taking on the responsibilities of several large estates, managing scores of families and businesses. All while managing the sorrow of a lost father. He could be there this evening, in support of his long-time friend.
To Mintz, he asked. “Where is Lady Carlow?”
“She went for a stroll with her lady’s maid. I’m not sure when she will be back.”
“Did my mother go with them?”
“No, my lord, she’s across the green at Lady Weatherby’s.”
“Can you have the carriage prepared? Rawden’s father has passed.”
“You’ll be leaving for South Weald?”
“Yes, within the hour.” Gabriel tallied all the things he had to do in the next few days. He didn’t doubt his need to be with his friend, but Nora was also one of his priorities. She was a filly who would spook at the mere hint of trouble. Or bolt if the barn door were left open. He’d promised a week in London before they left for Henbury; a trip to South Weald would push their departure back by four days or so.
“I’ll pack your valise as well.”
“Uh, Mintz.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I will leave a short note for Lady Carlow and my mother, but I want you to keep a special watch over my wife.”
“She’s been most pleasant, my lord. But certainly, I will enlist the household to keep her from pining until you return.”
“Lady Carlow won’t be pining; she’ll be plotting, and I want to keep her busy.”
“Perhaps you should take her with you?”
“I’m afraid she has no affinity for Ellis, and South Weald is too close to Henbury Hall for my comfort.” And she had no mourning garb. Gabriel wasn’t all that certain Nora would be willing to mourn for one of the Wicked, even if it was only one or two days.
“I understood you to say you were taking her there shortly. Why not now?”
“Mintz, there are reasons.” What Nora would see when they arrived at Henbury Hall would break her heart. The day after the Weatherby Ball, Gabriel had sent special instructions to the estate labors to focus on a few of the more important projects. Any extra time would be put to good use, but there wasn’t enough time to fix all that was wrong. This was going to take months, if not a few years.
“Of course, my lord. There are also privy reasons to marry a woman you’ve just met, too, but I have yet to understand them either.”
“Mintz, when was the last time you kept your opinions to yourself?” He’d been with the family for a very long time. While he knew how to rub salt in wounds, he was also invaluable when it came to getting an honest opinion.
“My lord, your life would be much more boring without me.”
“I have Nora now. Shouldn’t you be packing?”
Unfinished business haunted him all the way to South Weald. Being separated from Nora wasn’t a good idea, not when he’d been making progress. She
might read something nefarious into his decision to leave her behind.
The carriage pulled up to the Georgian manor late in the afternoon. Other conveyances were also lined along the lane where the decorative trees grew as the community had arrived for mourning. Ellis had reached the front door before a servant had collected Gabriel’s valise.
“I didn’t mean for you to come all this way,” Ellis said.
“What are friends for?” They shook hands and walked up the wide steps.
“Nora isn’t with you?”
“Not this trip. How is your mother?”
“Accepting but sad. Sissy arrived yesterday evening, so having her daughter near has been comforting. Come inside. Father is on the mourning table, if you wish to pay your respects, and then I will present you in the drawing room. I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’ll have hot water sent to you room. Mr. Tyler. The blue room, if you please.” The servant hurried away, and Gabriel followed Ellis.
A few mourners were gathered, probably neighbors. Gabriel stood silently for a few minutes, thinking of the earl as he had been. Recalling when they had been young boys at Eton and Gabriel had gotten to visit South Weald or one of their other estates. It was always more exciting to visit his friend’s family estates and ride their champion horses and run through their forests and streams than to stay home for the summer.
Of course, Nash had been with them. The Not-So-Wicked Three. To this day, they were still more about playing than working. Gabriel wasn’t so proud that he couldn’t admit what he was, but Ellis and Nash were good people. They would probably say the same about him. But then they weren’t really the Wicked Three. It was their fathers who were being accused.
Ellis’ mother sat like a queen in the middle of the drawing room. There were others sitting quietly and being served small food along with a little fortification.
“My dear, Carlow,” she said. “How are you?”
“It is good to see you.” He bent to kiss her cheek and then turned to Ellis’ sister, Sissy to everyone, Antoinette by birth. “And you, Sissy. I’m so sorry about the loss of your father.”
“Papa asked about you and Nash before he passed. He was so fond of you both.”
“And we him. There was no better childhood than running free at South Weald.”
“Do you need anything, Mama?” Ellis asked.
“No, dear. I know you are itching to speak with Carlow, and this is such a depressing collection,” she said quietly.
He bowed to both ladies. Ellis introduced him to the others, local landowners, a pair of tenants and the minister of South Weald’s small parsonage before they headed to the library.
Ellis poured drinks and they settled on the couches facing the double doors toward the grape orchard. They produced a local claret, but never seemed to have enough grapes, or luck, to produce casks of any worth.
“So, how is married life?” Ellis asked, taking a seat and sipping at his whisky.
“Much like being single, in my case, except I am spending more money.”
“The true test of love.”
“We didn’t marry for love,” Gabriel said, but suspected he was already feeling the effects of that affliction. He’d spent six days wandering around his house, wondering where his wife was and questioning any servant who happened by.
“Who does? We make the best of it. Mama thinks I should be courting Watford’s eldest. She just turned seventeen, but I have this horrible aversion to my wife believing she married an old man.”
“Marry a beautiful older widow. You’ll gain estates and an ever-adoring wife.”
“Gad, is this what our lives have become? Shouldn’t we be at Newmarket making outrageous wagers or boxing at Joe’s?”
“We should be!” Gabriel held up his glass for a toast. “And we will be again.”
“He went peacefully,” Ellis said, with a complete change of topic. “For that I’m thankful. Now I feel I wasn’t sympathetic enough when your father passed.”
“Death is intimate, not inclusive,” Gabriel said, still ruminating about the death of his father. The five years before he died had been hell on his mother, brother and sister. He was present in body but had a vacant stare the family knew well. It was the dream-state of his treasure hunting. What Gabriel had never understood was why it possessed him so thoroughly. The earldom was flush with cash and with a reliable income stream. They didn’t need the fabled treasure—whether it was gold, silver, jewels, or an empty, rotted sea chest.
“The funeral is tomorrow morning.”
“Will Nash be here?”
“I think so. Don’t feel as if you need to stay an entire week to mind the family.”
“Nora is expecting me shortly. And then we are going to Henbury for a few months.”
“It will be nice to have you nearby.”
“Better at one of the other estates than in London through the rest of the season. Henbury is going to be difficult to explain.”
“We are not doing our duty in the House of Lords. I can honestly say I am not looking forward to that drudge.”
“It is far better than being dragged to Almack’s every night.”
“Now that you have Nora, I would keep her at Henbury too.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Do tell. More whisky?”
“Make it a double and I’ll share everything. Almost everything,” he amended, deciding against revealing the celibate part of his marriage.
“Lady Carlow isn’t still holding a grudge against me and Andover, is she?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She might hold that grudge forever.”
“You aren’t telling me anything, Carlow. I want secrets!”
“Should we start with Henbury Hall? It’s the reason she thought to trap me into marriage, you see.”
“I gathered as much.”
“You knew it was her father’s property until he sold it to my father? She claims the transfer was illegitimate, even illegal. She alleges that you and Andover, or your fathers, also acquired property from Wargrove in the same malicious fashion.”
“Father acquired—I think it was twelve of the Henbury stallions—before Blasington was hanged. There was some sort of agreement between them. I don’t know the details, but…”
“I suspect Andover will tell us much the same thing about the tin mines in Cornwall. Blasington sold them prior to his untimely death. It is rather astounding that Blasington wouldn’t have been more careful, especially considering he had a son to inherit.”
“He was a noble about to be hanged. Who knew what he was thinking? And it wasn’t entailed, so selling the property was completely legitimate.”
“Yes, but where is the money?”
“All part of the Blasington hoard,” Ellis said.
“So, you have heard about the missing treasure?”
“This estate is not so far from Henbury. I think we have a tenant family who used to work one of the Henbury farms. But the rumors of treasure existed well before he died, maybe years before.”
“If he sold the property before his death, why? It’s all messy enough that I do think Nora is partly right.”
“About which part?”
“The part she is right about,” he said, then sipped at his drink again. “I don’t know. There wasn’t a hint of impropriety until Nora mentioned it, and now I can think of nothing else.”
Sissy tapped on the library door and walked in. Both men stood. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but Mama has retired to her room and I felt like a drink.”
“You came to the right place,” Gabriel said. Sissy was a year younger than Ellis. She was as lovely as any woman of Gabriel’s acquaintance, short and petite with myriad musical skills. There had been more than one sly comment about Sissy marrying Gabriel or Nash, but her head had never been turned by either of them. Gabriel suspected they were too brotherly for her to feel anything beyond affection.
“Has everyone gone home
?” her brother asked while he went to the sidebar to pour more libations.
“Yes. Finally. Please just put me directly in the grave when my day comes. I don’t think I can bear the idea of all the examination and opinion from complete strangers.”
“Or worse,” Ellis said, “Those that comment you look better dead.” Sissy and Gabriel smiled at the truthful assertion.
“Did someone say that about Papa?” Sissy asked.
“No, but did you stop to think you won’t actually know any of the details?” Ellis said, handing her a small shot of whisky.
“You two are morbid,” Gabriel said.
“Papa had a good sense of humor. He wouldn’t mind,” Sissy said. “So, Gabriel, tell me about your new life. Don’t leave out any of the scrumptious details. I think you are the first person I know to get caught up in Lady Weatherby’s ambuscade!”
“But not the last,” Gabriel said. “And it wasn’t exactly a concealed ambush. I was very aware it was happening.”
“Oh, bollocks,” said Ellis. “She hooked you from the first and then you went blind to the potential pitfalls.”
“Not quite true. The only real ambush was her identity.”
“You didn’t know it was Nora Blasington?” Sissy laughed. “I can hardly believe it. That family’s story is truly amazing. And tragic, of course. Ellis, you remember some of the story, don’t you?”
“Not really. My recollections are tainted by the colorful character of George Blasington. Everything else seems insignificant,” Ellis said.
Gabriel listened intently. There was so much innuendo and rumor. What was really true? What did he want to be true, for Nora’s sake?
“Well, Harold Blasington, George’s father, was a renowned hero of the Seven Years War. Valor in service, I believe was the phrase. He was honored with the earldom shortly thereafter along with a modest estate at Henley-on-Thames. And modest is being generous. It was basically a manor house on the river.”
“I’ve never heard any of this story.”
“Well, it’s from Mother’s generation and really isn’t much of a story at this point.”
“Go on,” Gabriel said.
