by Platt, Meara
The Book of Love was sitting closed on the trunk where he’d left it. He picked it up and tucked it securely under his arm before Pip could get his hands on it. He doubted the lad would toss it into the water as a prank, but one could never be sure what was going through Pip’s active mind.
“Nathaniel sent me down here to fetch you,” he said between gulps of air as he struggled to catch his breath. “A messenger with a letter from a man with a castle came for you.”
Thad’s heart began to pound. “Castlereagh?”
Pip nodded.
He took off at a run, book in hand. He ought to have waited for Loopy, or at least returned the book to her, but he would leave it in Soames’s safekeeping. The butler could be trusted to keep it safe for the next few minutes.
He tore into the house and burst into Nathaniel’s study. Beast was there as well.
“Nathaniel?”
“Here, it looks official. Shall we give you privacy?”
Thad nodded.
Beast slapped him on the shoulder. “We’re here if you need us.”
They were his best friends, and he had no secrets from them. But if the news was bad, he did not want anyone watching him fall apart, not even these men he trusted with his life. His hands shook as he opened the letter. It contained a few simple lines. The Greys to remain in France. Return to London for your orders. Funeral services to be performed here before burial in Caithness.
He felt ill.
Who had died? More than one officer since services was the plural. His brother and both his cousins were officers in the regiment. Typical of Castlereagh to ignore the most important details. He crushed the note in his hand and crossed the study to open the door.
He’d leave within the hour.
“Thad?”
Penelope had just walked into the house. The Book of Love was now in her hands. Good, Soames had returned it to her safekeeping. “Not now, Loopy. I have to pack for London.”
She followed him as he continued across the hall and up the stairs. “For how long? What happened?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Funerals is all Castlereagh mentioned.”
Her hand went to her throat. “Oh, Thad. Is there anything we can do?”
“No. I’ll send word once I learn more. I may not be back in time for Goose’s party. Wish her happy birthday for me, and…” A jolt of raw pain shot through his chest. “Good luck with Wycke. He’s a fool if he doesn’t offer for you by the end of the week.”
He didn’t wait for Loopy’s response.
He didn’t want polite thanks for his good wishes.
He had no wish to see her happy with another man. He wanted Loopy for himself. But that wasn’t going to happen, not when he’d likely be ordered back to France or up to Caithness to bury his kin. Was his brother among the dead? His cousins?
He felt her gaze bore into his back, but he refused to turn around. Looking at Loopy would only break his heart, the little of it that wasn’t already torn to pieces. Mo cridhe. He’d let those words slip out after kissing her.
She didn’t know what they meant, but Pip’s governess was Scottish and would know. Loopy had only to ask her.
Mo cridhe.
My love.
Chapter Six
Thad noticed the tears streaming unabashedly down Loopy’s face as she watched him lead Thor out of the stables. His saddlebags had already been secured and all that was left to do was bid farewell to his friends.
It saddened him that he might not see them again for years.
Perhaps never again.
The lass was not alone in watching him, for all the Sherbournes as well as Beast and Goose were here to see him off. “Stay at my townhouse,” Beast offered. “Aunt Matilda is in residence and she has a full staff in place to take care of you. It’ll be more comfortable than a regimental barracks.”
“Thank ye, I might take ye up on the offer.”
Nathaniel stepped forward. “Same here. Anything you need, just ask my man of affairs in London and he’ll see it is done.”
“I will,” he said with a grateful nod before turning to the others. He kissed Goose, Poppy, and Lavinia, and ruffled Pip’s hair. “Remember, lad. Take it slow. You and Monarch have to get to know each other before ye attempt any tricks. It isn’t only a matter of keeping ye safe, it’s Monarch’s safety at risk as well.”
Pip cast him an earnest nod. “I will. I’ll take good care of him.”
He ruffled Pip’s head again. “Good lad.” He bent down and gave him a hug.
He lifted Periwinkle in his arms and gave him a light rub on the belly. “Ye take good care of Loopy,” he whispered before patting him on the head and handing him back to Lavinia.
Then there was no one left but Loopy.
Before he could figure out what to say, she threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Thad! Take care of yourself. Write to us. Let us know what’s happening.”
He took her into his embrace, his heart swelling with an onslaught of feelings he dared not show. “I will, lass.”
“We packed some meat and fruit for you, and a few scones. We know you’ll be hungry on the journey.”
He chuckled. “I’m always hungry.” Mostly for the angel in his arms, but food was the next best thing if he couldn’t have Loopy with him on the ride to London. She was using ‘we’, but he knew that any comforts provided were all her doing. She’d always been thoughtful in this way, even as a little girl. Her letters. Her handmade gifts and drawings.
He eased her out of his arms. “Life will be dull without ye.”
She smiled at him and nodded. “You look so handsome in your uniform. Stay safe, Thad. Send for us if you feel the need for family around you.”
“I will, lass.” He gave her one last hug, a quick peck on her soft cheek, and then mounted Thor. His heart pounded like a war drum in his chest. He wanted to say more to her, but the words caught in his throat.
He merely nodded to them all.
Loopy was still crying.
He couldn’t bear to see her sad.
Neither could Poppy and Goose, it seemed. They moved to stand beside her. It eased his heart to know her friends would look after her.
Soon, Wycke would be the one to look after her.
He rode off before anyone noticed the watery glisten in his own eyes.
His ride was uneventful save for a quick downpour in the middle of the day. Fortunately, he’d stopped to rest Thor at one of the roadside inns outside of Oxford. Thor was already in the stable, being fed and watered when the worst of the rain arrived. As for himself, he was comfortable and dry, seated alone in the inn’s taproom nursing a pint of ale while listening to the patter of raindrops and the whistle of the wind against the windows.
Pick-pock. Pick-pock. Pickety-pock.
He rose once the downpour was over. The rain had trickled to a light mist that followed him the rest of the way to London. The ground was muddied, so he’d had to ride slower than he’d liked, delaying his arrival. By the time he entered the sprawling city, it was too late to call upon Lord Castlereagh. He left their meeting for tomorrow and made his way to Beast’s townhouse. Lavinia had given him a letter to bring to Beast’s aunt, the dowager Duchess Matilda, and he would sooner disobey an order from Castlereagh than disappoint Lavinia.
Also, once Castlereagh got his hands on him, there might be no time to call upon Beast’s aunt. He did not wish to leave the letter to just any messenger. Although it contained no important government secrets, it was his last connection to those he considered as close as family.
Matilda was at home when he arrived.
He’d intended to deliver the letter and then ride to the regimental barracks, but the grand lady would not hear of it. “You’ll stay here, of course.”
She ordered Beast’s staff to take his saddlebags up to his guest quarters as soon as the room was made ready. After washing the dust of travel off himself and changing out of his uniform, which was taken by one of the
butlers to be cleaned and pressed, he went downstairs and was shown to Matilda’s elegant, private parlor by yet another butler. “I’ll let Her Grace know you’ve come down.”
He was offered refreshments which he gladly accepted, for he hadn’t eaten in hours. He was thirsty, too. The long ride had left his throat parched. He settled in one of the elegant silk chairs and glanced around as he casually sipped an expensive wine out of an even more expensive crystal glass. Beast was Duke of Hartford, and although he’d never once made Thad feel inferior, there was no overlooking the wealth and power that came with the title.
The furniture and furnishings even in Matilda’s private parlor were all museum pieces. The vases, the paintings, the silk chairs, and fireplace mantelpiece. The carpet and wall tapestries. All were the finest a duke’s blunt could provide. Beast’s entire townhouse was furnished with exquisite antiques.
Same could be said of Nathaniel. He was Earl of Welles and possessed a vast estate and homes as fine as Beast’s.
Indeed, everywhere Thad looked, he was reminded of all he lacked. He did not care about it for himself, but this difference in wealth and status was a stark reminder that Loopy was better off without him. She’d be Lady Wycke soon, lady of another fine estate.
His home in Thurso was a drafty, stone manor attached to a fallen-down-rubble-of-an-ancient fortress. He was blood relative to the Earl of Caithness on his father’s side, but he knew little of his mother’s side. After his mother had died in childbirth, something for which he was solely to blame, Caithness and her family had feuded.
He’d been a mere babe and only learned bits and pieces of what had transpired from his brother and cousins. They’d been young as well and could only relate snippets of the gossip they’d overheard, some of it quite cruel. He’d long since stopped listening to any of it. He had no idea what was truth and what was a fishwife tale.
What he did know was that the Hume clan’s territory was in the Scottish Lowlands. To a proud Highlander like the Earl of Caithness, that was reason alone to pick a fight. Thad didn’t know which earl had started the feud, probably both were to blame, for that seemed to be the prideful, Scottish way, hate the other clans unless you unite to hate the English. It had been this way for centuries.
In any event, it no longer mattered to him. Whatever the reason, the fact remained, he’d never met the Earl of Hume who was his only surviving grandfather. Now that he was an adult, it was too late for him to form fond childhood memories with Hume or any of his mother’s clan.
Nor would there be any formed in his adult life, for Hume had never attempted to contact him. As far as the earl or any of his clan was concerned, he simply did not exist.
“Thad, dear boy. Have you settled in comfortably?” Matilda swept in with regal dignity, the short train of her gray silk gown held in one hand as she held out her other bejeweled hand for him to bow over it.
“I have, Your Grace. Thank ye for the hospitality.”
“Always a pleasure to see you. What brings you to London?”
“Business with Lord Castlereagh. But I’m too late to call upon him this evening. I appreciate your allowing me to stay here.”
She shook her head, causing her fashionably styled curls to bob about her plump cheeks. “You are welcome for as long as you wish to remain.”
He thanked her and gave over the letter Lavinia had written her.
She set it aside on her writing desk that was tucked in a corner of her parlor, and then walked back to his side and settled on one of the blue silk chairs beside the fireplace. She motioned for him to take the matching one beside her. The night was warm and damp. There was no fire lit, nor did one need to be lit to heat the room. But it was a cozy corner where the two of them could speak quietly without being overheard.
He expected their conversation to proceed with a polite recounting of his time spent at Sherbourne Manor and a comment about Beast and Goose in their wedded bliss, but Matilda surprised him by suddenly casting him a sober look. “Thad, dear. Are you aware that both the Earl of Caithness and Earl of Hume are now in London?”
He sat up sharply. Hadn’t he just been thinking of them? “Are ye certain?”
She nodded. “They arrived earlier today. Separately, of course. They won’t speak to each other.”
He shot her a wry grin, finding it amazing that a dowager who rarely left her home knew as much about the comings and goings of these earls as the best trained agents of the Crown. “Do ye happen to know why they’re here?”
He expected that Caithness had been summoned for the same reason Castlereagh had ordered him to London. To bring back their dead kinsmen, give them a proper funeral service with all the military honors afforded to officers, and afterward, escort their bodies back to their beloved Highlands for distinguished burial.
But the Earl of Hume was a Lowlander. He had no men that Thad was aware of serving in the Greys.
“They’re both here to see you,” Matilda said, further surprising him.
He arched an eyebrow. “Me? Why?”
“I have my suspicions, but I dare not say. I could be wrong.”
Thad snorted. “Ye rarely are, Your Grace.”
She waved the comment off with a dismissive shake of her ringed fingers. “How much do you know of your mother’s family?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Nothing.” After a moment, he leaned forward and regarded her with hopeful curiosity. “I won’t deny that it’s left a gaping hole in my heart. My mother’s blood runs through me as well, but Caithness forbade our kinsmen to speak of her or her clan. Ye seem well informed about them. Please, tell me what ye know.”
*
“I’m not heartsick over Thad’s absence,” Penelope insisted, frowning at her friends.
Poppy’s sister had arrived at Sherbourne Manor in the early afternoon and was now seated on Penelope’s bed along with Poppy and Olivia. She tried not to frown at Violet who had done nothing to warrant her ire.
Quite the opposite, Violet was delightful. She hoped the girl would distract Poppy and Olivia long enough to keep them from fussing over her. How she felt about Thad was her business. What she intended to do about him was also her business. “Is Thad the nice-looking Scottish gentleman we met at your wedding, Poppy? The one who was paying a lot of attention to Miss Billings?”
Penelope felt Violet’s innocent remark pierce her like a knife to the heart. “He was?”
“No,” Poppy quickly replied. “That was Dr. Carmichael. Miss Billings ordered some medical books for him, but I don’t suppose that was really on his mind when he asked her to dance. We have a few Scots in our midst. The vicar, Adam Carstairs, is also from Scotland.”
Violet grinned. “I remember him. The one with deep, blue eyes. All the ladies were flitting about him like butterflies, offering to assist him in his charitable work and making pious comments. But it was obvious their thoughts were on him and not on any pious deeds. Oh, I know which one you mean now. Thad is the big, rugged one. He was awfully quiet.”
Olivia shook her head and laughed. “He was in dread fear of Penelope. Once Poppy married, it was her turn to get The Book of Love. Poor Thad knew he was done for.”
“He was never in any danger from me.” Penelope hoped the ache in her voice was not evident. “He isn’t even here now.”
Violet cast her a curious look. “Where did he go?”
“To London, but only long enough to receive new orders. We don’t know where he’ll be sent next.” She clasped her hands together in a failed attempt to ease her distress. Nothing would make her feel better except the return of that big, rugged Scot.
“Oh.” Violet cast her a sympathetic look. “He’s been a good friend to all of you. I’m sure you’re all worried about him.”
“We are,” Olivia said, obviously aware of Penelope’s turmoil and sparing her the need to respond. “But Thad is smart. He’ll come out of it all right.” She hopped off Penelope’s bed and walked over to give her a quick hug. �
��It’s getting late. Time for me to go home. But I’ll see you tomorrow. We have my birthday party to plan.”
Penelope laughed.
Poppy groaned. “It was supposed to be a surprise! What gave us away?”
Olivia grinned. “The devil-child told me, of course. Pip sees and hears everything. He was so excited about my birthday and begged to be allowed to attend.”
“Pip is so sweet! I would love his company.” Violet was barely sixteen and had a few more years before she would be on the market for marriage. At the moment, she had more in common with Pip. But Penelope knew this would change in another year or two when her thoughts turned to her future and finding the right man to marry.
Violet would be taken quickly, Penelope knew. She was as sweet as Poppy and just as beautiful. Her eyes were an incredible violet-blue that were hidden behind unbecoming spectacles. She had the look of a bluestocking, perhaps the makings of a wallflower despite her pretty features. But any man of discerning taste would appreciate her and love her for the good person she was.
“Of course, Pip will be allowed to attend,” Olivia assured. “However, the Sherbourne footmen will have to remain on high alert. That boy is bound to do something to disrupt the party. I hope it won’t be a spider in the ratafia punch. Oh, I really must go. See you all tomorrow. Let’s visit Miss Billings at her bookshop after breakfast. I need another book to read.”
Violet clapped her hands. “I love bookshops. I often go browsing with our cousin Lily whenever I’m in London.”
“We can walk into town if the weather’s nice. Otherwise, we’ll take Nathaniel’s carriage,” Poppy said, shaking her head and grinning. “I shall never get used to the crest emblazoned on its door. I still can’t think of myself as a countess. I find the notion absurd. Me? Countess Poppy?”
“Mother and Father can’t quite believe it either,” Violet said with a smirk. “But that hasn’t stopped them from boasting.”
“Oh, dear. I hope they don’t overdo it. I’ve only been a countess for a few weeks. I haven’t even thrown my first party yet.” She glanced at Penelope. “You must have a look at the menu Lavinia and I have planned. Let me know if we’ve overlooked anything. And how do I arrange for an orchestra? What else am I missing?”