by Eliza Lloyd
Timothy jumped to his feet. He swiped his hand through his messed hair. “For the best? You can say that now that you’ve thieved your way into Carlow’s life. Your position is secure. I have nothing and nowhere to go.”
“You are always welcome at Grandy and Gigi’s. You know that.”
“Will I be when I am twenty-five? Or when I am thirty-five? Or when they are gone?”
“Perhaps you should look at the ministry, as Gigi suggested last year.”
“The ministry? Me? If there is anything Lady Fortenay taught me, it is that I shouldn’t take on the mantel of suffering for any cause.”
Nora tried to muffle her laugh. “Carlow will help.”
“Well, there is one thing he has to do and that is return Henbury Hall to me. I need to be the earl of something.”
“He has already said he would return it to me. We don’t need to muddy the waters with additional demands.”
“But I have to.”
“Have to? I’m sure that will persuade Carlow to action.”
“The Duke of Exeter approached me yesterday morning. He said there was no reason for me to be at Reading. That Cecily was acting without the family’s approval or direction in maintaining a correspondence with me. Good Lord, it was only for four weeks.”
“Exeter was there?”
“Well, yes. Lady Russell is Exeter’s daughter. Why wouldn’t he be there for such a grand country party?”
“And he made a point to speak with you? And no others?” There was every reason to be suspicious and even more reason to be cautious.
“The others are men of substance. Properties, wealth, titles that go back to William the Conqueror.”
“No title goes back that far.”
“Allow me some dramatic license. Or is that only for the women in our family?”
“It isn’t dramatic license when it happens to be true.”
“Well, thank you for reminding me of Lady Fortenay’s history lessons that do me no good now.”
“What are we talking about?”
Timothy started pacing the same track she had. “Exeter said something else. Something that upset me more than the family’s rejection of me.”
“What?”
“He said that it was too bad Carlow was selling such a derelict property as Henbury Hall. And that if I could persuade Lord Carlow, Exeter would be interested in buying, with a handsome stipend to me to make my own way in life.”
“He spoke to you about Henbury?”
“In some detail.” Timothy laughed lightly. “Can you imagine? I have no claim—no real claim—yet he thought I could do something.”
“Did you tell him Henbury isn’t for sale? That is our property, and it is part of my agreement with Carlow. He wouldn’t sell it having made…having made a promise to me.” She jumped to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Timothy asked.
“Why, I’m going to demand Carlow tell us the truth, that’s where I’m going!”
“He’ll make some excuse. It is what such men do.”
“I have the right to know if he lied to me.”
“Would you be surprised if he had? Your marriage is built on lies.”
“How dare you? Carlow knew exactly what he was getting when we stood before Reverend Wright.”
“If he is so true, why hasn’t he taken you to Henbury Hall yet? Is he trying to keep you away for some reason?”
“Why are you being so difficult? I know you are frustrated, but the plan is going as well as it possibly could, given the circumstances. You will have Henbury someday soon.” Nora’s stomach flopped uncomfortably. Every day she placed more and more trust in Carlow. She could not bear a betrayal now.
“He is going to sell it. Doesn’t that cause some doubt about Carlow’s trustworthiness and his intentions?”
“Of all the characters in this play, I trust Carlow the most. He has done nothing to make me doubt him,” she said. If she recounted all the kind and generous things he had done, she could squash the nagging worry that something was bound to go wrong.
“There was a time when you trusted me. Now that you are married, you’ve forgotten that it was the two of us against the world. This was our plan to get Papa’s properties back. You are letting me go it alone and I have no means,” Timothy said.
“That’s not true.”
“Then I want to ask Carlow what his real intentions are. He hasn’t taken you there. Will he take me, if I ask?” Timothy demanded.
“Listen well, brother. Exeter has his own motivation for causing trouble for the Blasingtons. And Carlow has not lied to me that I know of. I know who I trust. I think. We have more to discuss.”
“No, we don’t. I should have known you wouldn’t see the truth.”
“You are relying on Exeter’s word, a man you barely know, over the word of my husband.”
“A man you barely know.”
“I know things about Exeter that you don’t. Trust me when I tell you, he is the one who has ill intentions toward our family.”
“Of course, blame someone else besides your precious Carlow.”
“Enough! Now sit. You have had your say about Carlow. You will listen to me about what I know of Exeter and why we must have care.”
Timothy shoved his hands in his pockets and sprawled against the yellow sofa, in a state of agitation. Nora began the story as she knew it, revealing the secrets and common knowledge, that put together, painted Exeter in a very bad light.
“Fine. Exeter is dishonorable man. That has nothing to do with Cecily.”
“But everything to do with our past. Cecily may be a lovely young woman, but we can’t trust the—”
“Fine! Just ask Carlow! See if he tells you the truth.”
“I will when the time is right. Will you stay for dinner?” she asked, in an attempt to calm him.
“Where else do I have to be?” His shoulders dropped. “What am I going to do, Nora?”
“Enjoy some of Carlow’s food, for starters. And then see which person at the table squirms first. Andover and Fromme are here.”
“Ah, the whole Wicked gang.”
“Maybe tonight is the night to ask some hard questions about their family’s involvement in the Blasingtons’ decline.”
“Are you sure? Carlow won’t enjoy a public examination at his dinner table.”
“I want the truth. And Carlow distracted me the last time we were all at a table together.”
“If they or their fathers have committed some fraud, they aren’t going to admit it at this point.”
“You didn’t always think that way. Once, we were of one mind,” Nora said.
“Until you got married.”
“They know what happened. Now, sit with me and we will play cards until the dinner bell rings. I feel as if I’m losing my touch and you never know when a wagering opportunity will come along.”
Later at the table, Nora sat in her usual chair at the far end, opposite Carlow. His mother was usually to his left, but tonight she was at a dinner party with Lady Osbaldstone. Fromme and Andover sat on either side of him, while Timothy was to her right.
It wasn’t a long table, but the distance was awkward, almost as if they were lining up pieces on a chessboard. But Carlow’s cooks were superb and the table setting magnificent, even if it was for a party of five. They had already served the asparagus soup and the roast veal béchamel, along with some small sides of sea kale, stewed turnips and mutton cutlets.
Everyone remained quiet as they sipped and cut. Nora was stewing as the second course was placed: turkey poult with brown sauce, stewed duck with morels, dressed peas and potatoes croquets.
“Carlow, my brother was just telling me about his trip to Reading,” Nora said, slicing into the duck.
“What is in Reading, may I ask?” Fromme piped in. “All of the young women are in London during the Season.” He was pushing his peas around his plate with a knife. Nora was certain the question was purely indifferent, as he did
n’t even look up at either Timothy or her. She couldn’t forget about the horses that ended up with his family. Deep down—deep, deep down—she couldn’t forgive or forget how they were complicit in the whole sordid mess. Father would not have just given his property away.
“There is one young lady who is not,” Timothy said. “I was at a house party sponsored by Lady Russell.”
“Exeter’s daughter,” Nora added.
Carlow, at the end of the table, set his knife aside and watched her closely, a question in his gaze and his head tilted slightly.
“The Duke of Exeter?” Fromme asked, this time looking up and a little more impressed.
“I hear the hunting is excellent in Reading,” Andover said.
“I wasn’t there for the hunting,” Timothy said.
“Timothy says Exeter was a charming host. Isn’t that right, Timothy?” Timothy had gone white and began to fiddle with his fork. “It seems Exeter is very interested in reacquiring one of his properties and thought my brother could help him. Which all seems so strange to me, since Carlow is the one who owns that property. You weren’t planning on selling Henbury Hall, were you, Carlow? Exeter had the idea you were. But I don’t know how that is possible. Oh my, Carlow, you really have the best cooks. I don’t think I’ve had better stewed duck.”
There was silence for a minute, only silver utensils cracking against the china plates.
“Are you?” Andover said. “You said you were going to sell, but you didn’t mention Exeter.”
“I changed my mind,” Carlow said. “Money isn’t everything.” Nora watched her husband closely, looking for signs of deception. But his piercing gaze saw right through her. “I made a promise,” he said. “And I keep my promises.”
“Exeter approached me about the tin mines after my father died,” Andover added.
“Oh?” Carlow said. All eyes turned to Andover. “Did he say why?” Carlow asked.
“No. He was offering a good price for the mines that caused our family more work than profit, so it was an easy decision.”
“You sold to him?” Nora asked.
“When?” Carlow asked.
“About six months ago.”
“So the mines are gone forever,” Nora said, more to herself.
“I wouldn’t worry, Lady Carlow. The whole idea behind having assets is to turn a profit or, at the very least, support land management and labor structure. Believe me, the mines in England are not robust enough to support a long-term venture. Mark my words.” Andover thought that put a point to the story.
At the abrupt finality of his words, Nora felt her spine weaken. “But they weren’t yours to sell. They belonged to my father.” Her words sounded feckless to her own ears.
“Nora, not tonight,” Carlow said. The warning in his voice wasn’t enough to stop her uncontrolled determination.
“Does it not matter to one of you that part of your heritage was acquired by destroying mine?”
No one spoke. Nora’s ears burned. She glanced at Carlow, his face blank.
Fromme leaned back. “I suppose this isn’t the time to mention that Exeter has also contacted me about purchasing some of the Henbury stallions. Exeter bothered my father about it too, but he’d always refused.”
Words burst from her, knowing she should have stopped. “Isn’t it strange that you all thought it best to sell my father’s property back to the original owner? What did he promise you? What did he promise your fathers?”
“It is no one’s business what Fromme and Andover do with their property,” Carlow said.
“Then you might as well sell Henbury Hall too, since it is none of my business.”
A servant came in carrying the desserts. Carlow said no, but Nora accepted her plate and anxiously downed the smallest of crumbs. Carlow watched her every movement, waiting to make eye contact. Waiting to tell her he was furious with her. Nora could feel his needled gaze pierce every inch of her body.
When they were finished, Carlow stood and said to Ellis and Nash, “Give me about twenty minutes, won’t you? I think I will attend the Talbots’ ball with you.”
Chapter Eleven
The ball was every bit as exciting as watching oats grow. Gabriel’s vision was red with anger and he barely had a word for anyone in attendance, even for the smiling, imploring Grace Talbot. Good God, he was married. What right did she have to…
What right did he have to punish Nora with the idea he was at the Talbot’s to flirt with other women? If there was any woman who would want to hash things out in conversation, it was Nora. But he wasn’t sure he could do that either.
“We are leaving tomorrow,” Gabriel said. He stood at their bedroom door, intending to find a sleeping spot away from his wife. He knew Nora would be awake, not that he’d returned home that late.
“Carlow, I didn’t—”
“No! Don’t say a word to me. I’ve done nothing but support your search, and now I must endure an ambush at my own dinner table. Did you gain anything by your gambit?”
“I wanted to know the truth.”
“The truth should be apparent to you by now. Your father sold his properties for some inexplicable reason, and the man who wants them back thought he was cheated by your grandfather. Why is that so difficult to understand? Surely even Lady Fortenay taught the philosophies of William of Ockham? The simplest reason is usually the right one.”
“Of course—he was born in Surrey! What you don’t understand or won’t acknowledge is that men have wicked hearts and contrive complicated reasons to justify their actions. My father. Exeter. You.”
“And you,” Carlow said.
“All I want is to know why.”
“Not all fathers care for their children. You might have admired your father, but he obviously had irredeemable flaws. And, if you will take my advice, you must abandon your need for an explanation. There is only one man who knows, and he can no longer tell us. Good night, Lady Carlow.”
“Gabriel, wait.” She reached for him, but he did not draw closer for fear he would succumb to the growing spell she had over him.
He turned and raised a finger. “And furthermore, Ellis and Nash have been my friends since I was eleven years old. I won’t have you ruin that friendship. The three of us are prepared to extend that same devotion to our wives and families but you, madam, have not earned an ounce of it.”
He slammed the door, genuinely and thoroughly furious with his wife. Tonight Fromme had tried to placate Gabriel with humor and stories from their youth. Even that could not tempt him to a more congenial mood. His friends had not alleviated his emotion. The ball and the drinking had only agitated him further, but he had made a point to dance with Miss Talbot just so he could say that he had indeed danced with Miss Talbot. A despicable and dishonorable act—knowing one would be wrongly hopeful and knowing the other wasn’t aware of his petty action.
Mintz walked down the hallway with a handful of towels. “My lord,” he said.
“Prepare the luggage. We are leaving tomorrow for Henbury Hall.”
“Will I be attending you?”
“No. I don’t imagine we will be staying more than a few days, and we can fend for ourselves during that short time.” He also didn’t need an audience to watch his marriage disintegrate.
“What time do you want the coach brought around?”
“Ten is fine.”
Gabriel didn’t sleep and, after an hour, he pulled on his trousers and found a robe, tying it off. His library was the most comfortable room in the house, and he wended his way down and walked to the well-stocked sidebar. He swallowed the first drink, stared at the bottles and decided marriage wasn’t so rewarding after all.
Over four weeks he’d actually thought he and Nora were bonding, through humor and shared interests and maybe affection. What they had learned should have been enough to satisfy Nora’s intense curiosity about her family. What Gabriel had promised her should have been enough to fulfill her quest for the return of family property.
Andover and Fromme owed no explanation to him or to Nora.
He did not understand her unwillingness to accept what was so obviously true.
He poured another drink and walked toward the plush couches perpendicular to the cold fireplace.
A bit of moonlight filtered into the room, shadowing the furniture and bookshelves, but shining brightly on a book in front of him.
He reached for it, the binding familiar and soft to touch. Nora’s diary. Or rather, her mother’s diary.
Reading diaries was a sure way to betray trust, and he hated himself for entertaining the temptation. He tossed it back to the polished table and finished his second drink.
The library door creaked open. “Carlow?”
“Yes, Nora,” he said. He was tired and not really ready to spar with his wife this late at night. And they would have a long day tomorrow that would likely end in tears, strong emotions and cruel disappointment.
“Oh, I wasn’t sure it was you.”
“It’s my library.”
“I thought perhaps Timothy was awake.” Her feet pattered across the floor and she sat next to him, curling her legs beneath her. “Aside from Timothy, I’ve never had friends,” she whispered.
“You would have more friends if you weren’t so suspicious and accusatory of those around you.”
“Are they upset with me?” she asked.
“Nora, I am upset with you. They would never think to criticize my wife because they would give the benefit of the doubt to a lady. Don’t you see? I will not turn my back on friends I’ve known for most of my life. I’ve known you less than a month. If I had to choose sides, which you are pushing me to do, I would have to choose them. And it wouldn’t be because I didn’t want to stand by you, but there is no loyalty or love between us. Every time I think we are making progress, you place another chip on your shoulder, daring someone to knock it off.
“I want to be around my friends, enjoy shared passions. It may be asking too much, but I also want you to enjoy time with them. Eventually. For now, being polite will be sufficient. They will be married someday. I can’t have their wives feeling awkward when they are with us. And I can’t keep digging for truths that don’t exist. I wouldn’t do it for my father, and I won’t do it for you. I’d be doing you a disservice to keep this futile dream you have alive. You have Henbury Hall. The family mines are gone. Whatever lineage your family horses had has been diluted. Let us move on with those truths,” he said.
