It Started With a Whisper

by Dawn Brower

  “Mr. Smythe does not seem at all perilous,” she whispered as she stepped into the room. She paused for only a moment before turning to close the door behind her. “And we both know what I think of society and its need for scandalous on dits.”

  Gideon turned to face her as the latch clicked into place.

  They were utterly alone, and the way his gaze traveled the length of her before settling on her lips told Sybil he was all too aware of it, as well.

  For once, Sybil did not have the urge to run into his arms, to press her body against his, to have his lips warmly caressing hers. To completely lose all of herself in him; his smell, his hold…his heart.

  “Damn it, Sybil.” The palm of his hand landed on the stone edge of the hearth, and he turned to face her, his eyes alight with something akin to chaos. “How am I to protect you when you embrace peril at every turn?”

  Disarray. Turmoil. Utter pandemonium.

  Gideon’s narrowed glare held it all.

  “I have survived nearly twenty-three summers without you sheltering me; in fact, I lived nearly an entire year thinking you were dead, gone, never to be seen again. Why did you not protect me from that?”

  “I left you a note.”

  “Excuse my lack of decorum, but a bloody note scribbled upon crumpled paper, closed with a lopsided seal…it did nothing to assure me that you’d return.”

  “I could not tell you where I was going and had no idea how long I’d be gone.”

  “Just as you still cannot trust me enough to share where you were all those months.” Sybil said the last word as her breath ran out. She drew in air deeply, ready to launch into yet another volley of questions and concerns, but she got no further than, “I cried myself to sleep for months, Gideon.”

  “Hurting you is something I will apologize for endlessly; however, I can make no amends for leaving that night.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his long locks hanging askew from the action and matching his wild-eyed stare. “I had no other choice.”

  “If you have returned, why am I still in danger? Who poses a risk to my safety?” she begged. “I am no one of import.”

  “You are of great import to me!”

  The words should have filled her with a sense of security, to know that she meant something more to him than the last year had shown. Instead, the volatile lilt to his tone had her flinching away.

  “I love you, Sybil, and there are people…if they knew how much I cared for you…they would seek to harm you if only to get something from me.”

  “Does this have to do with Charles?”

  “Yes,” he said with a sigh, slumping into one of the two chairs facing the fire. Sybil moved into the room and sat on the other seat, her stare mirroring his as they both watched the flames licking at the logs. “He was taken…years ago. It was my fault.”

  Taken? “Do you mean kidnapped?”

  “Kidnapped, impressed, tied, bound and gagged.” His lips pressed into a frown. “Call it what you want, but he was taken when I should have protected him, watched over him, and made sure he returned home safely.”

  “Where did they take him?” Sybil wasn’t sure she wanted to hear any more, but she suspected this was the heart of Gideon’s secret…and she would know it.

  “To sea.” Gideon’s head hung as if the entirety of the blame was his to shoulder. “We were in London, directly after I finished University, and I convinced Charles to spend an evening out and about London, doing as boys who think they are men do—drinking and carrying on.”

  He fell silent, but Sybil didn’t prod him for more. He would speak when he was ready.

  Finally, he pushed to his feet and strode to the sideboard.

  “Pardon my horrendous manners,” he called over his shoulder as he took the stopper from a decanter and poured a drink. “I have spoken of this to no one in many years.”

  “I will have one, too,” she said.

  His back straightened, but he removed a second tumbler and poured her a small portion of scotch before returning to his seat.

  “We were both so deep in our cups that we stumbled to yet another tavern, this one far too close to the docks, and a man bought us another round of drinks.” He took a sip from his glass, his eyes staring unseeingly into the hearth as he re-lived the moment. “We were young with no funds to our names other than what our fathers gave us, and we’d spent that far earlier in the night. So, we accepted the drinks without question. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a rubbish heap with the sound of the lapping waves on the dock pillars causing my head to swirl and my stomach to churn.”

  “What of Charles?” she asked in a breathless whisper.

  “Gone.” Gideon leaned forward, setting his empty glass on the table between their seats. “Taken without a trace. It took me a fortnight to learn what had happened to him and where he was likely headed.”

  All manner of notions collided in her head: taken by the magistrate, imprisoned at Newgate, banished to the colonies for some sordid crime.

  “He was snatched up by a press gang and forced into service on the Centurion for our Royal Navy. From there, he was traded from ship to ship, whenever the need for sailors shifted when the entire British forces were sent to handle Napoleon and his troops.”

  “You could not have known…”

  “Do you want to know why they didn’t take me, as well?” Rage seethed with each word. When Sybil could only nod, he continued, “My dress was that of nobility, while Charles wore the simple garb of a commoner. I was spared because of my father’s wealth, while Charles was imprisoned on ship after ship, forced to sleep in the elements, eat stale, moldy food, and contend with cruel abuse because his trousers were not snug enough to give the impression of station.”

  “But he has been rescued,” she ventured. “He is home…and free.”

  “That is the thing, he is not free.” Gideon glanced at her hands, still holding the scotch he’d given her. “He is still in danger, as am I for forcibly removing him from a Navy vessel in Dover. We are hunted men, and if we are found before the Admiralty Courts have had time to decide on the matter, he will be returned to the ship, and I could be punished.”

  Sybil indignation flared. “But I would not allow that to happen. My brother would champion your cause. We would fight until you both were freed.”

  Gideon snorted. “Lord Lichfield will not so much as entertain an audience with me. What leads you to believe he would put his own reputation on the line to save me?”

  “Because he is a good man, an honorable one, a lord who prides himself on his loyalty.”

  “He owes me no loyalty, Sybil,” Gideon sighed. “I made a promise to you, and to your family, and I abandoned that promise.”

  “With good reason,” she retorted.

  “But Silas doesn’t know that.”

  “For the sole reason that you haven’t explained it to him.” Sybil took a small sip from the tumbler clutched between her bone-white knuckles, thankful for the burning respite as it made its way down her throat to her stomach. “And, he may owe you no amount of loyalty; however, as I said, Silas is an honorable and good man, and he has been known to dote on his sister. If I asked it of him, he would go to the ends of the Earth to see me happy, especially if it meant saving the man I love.”

  His inquisitive gaze captured hers across the space that separated them.

  Her words shocked her as much as they did Gideon.

  Embarrassment flamed, and her face heated. “It was not my intent to speak out of turn, Gideon. I know now is not the time, but—“

  “I love you, too, Sybil,” he said, his stare never wavering. “That is the one thing that has never changed, even with all the secrets I had to keep from you, and the time away with no explanation. I hoped every day you’d forgive me…and love me still.”

  “While losing you hurt me, it did not stop my heart from longing for you.”

  “As I have pined for you.” Gideon stood, pacing before the hearth. “I dream
t of you every night, Sybil. I told myself that if you ever forgave me, I would never cause you another day of grief. Yet, here we are.”

  He said everything Sybil had longed to hear him say: that he’d missed her, he’d thought of her, and he loved her.

  A heavy, persistent knock thundered through the townhouse, so close, Sybil thought it was someone at the study door. The thump rattled the windowpanes at the same time the tall clock began to chime the top of the hour. Her hand shook where it clutched her tumbler, sending the liquid over the rim and onto her gloved hand, marring the delicate satin.

  “Bloody damnation!” Gideon hissed. “This night has had no end of visitors. Not that I was unhappy to see you, Sybil.”

  “I did not take offense.” Sybil cleared her throat and set the glass aside before standing. “I suppose it is time I return home before it is noticed that I am gone.”

  Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose as the hammering on the door continued. “I will have my carriage readied. If you’ll wait here, I will take care of it and see why no one has answered the damned door.”

  As he left the room, a dark cloud descended around him, and tension tightened his shoulders, evident even through his evening jacket. A large part of her wanted to follow him, to ease whatever caused him worry; however, he’d bid her to remain, and for once, she was resigned to listen.

  Was it that she didn’t want to leave? They’d only just begun discussing the many things that had kept them apart, caused them both immeasurable pain, and found common ground—the one thing that kept them together.

  Love.

  Gideon left the study door wide open after departing, his footsteps muffled by the incessant knocking at the front door as it drifted and echoed into the room Sybil waited in. Who could it be at this time of night?

  Finally, the butler must have opened the door because the knocking suddenly stopped and the halls of Gideon’s townhouse returned to their quiet ways.

  “Where in the hell is my sister, you chutless, fobbin codpiece?” Silas’s enraged voice boomed through the house, causing tendrils of dread to course down her back.

  Her body shook with fright. Never in all her years had she witnessed Silas in such an angry state. She’d gone against her brother’s precise wishes by going to Gideon when he’d forbidden it.

  “Let us step outside and speak like gentlemen,” Gideon retorted in a much calmer tone; however, she knew Gideon’s patience would only last so long, especially if her brother continued on with his name-calling. “I am certain we can rectify whatever slight you think I’ve committed.”

  Sybil moved to the doorway and peered down the hall toward the foyer. She couldn’t see her brother’s face and only had a clear view of Gideon’s back, his shoulders stiff and his chin raised.

  “You’ve single-handedly ruined my sister,” Silas continued. “We should meet outside; however, dawn is a preferable time…and Regent Park an adequate location.”

  Was Silas challenging Gideon to a duel?

  Sybil couldn’t wait around to find out. She needed to stop the two men she loved from harming one another with anything deadlier than their words.

  Rushing from the study, her half boots made no sound as she ran toward the foyer.

  Chapter 8

  A stalwart magistrate, an incessant earl, a not-so-innocent maiden, an unsavory Jack Tar, and an indignant—yet furious—viscount…tell me, kind readers, what these five have in common. There is no rhyme or reason to any of it. However, that was the scene, which took place outside Lord Galway’s London townhouse. This author wonders if the next we hear of it will be at dawn—with pistols!

  ~ Whispers from Lady X

  “Let us take matters outside,” Gideon said once more, his voice boomed as if thunder had erupted in his home. However, it brought Lord Lichfield and the man who’d accompanied him to a standstill. He wasn’t certain that moving their confrontation outside was any better, but at least it would not be handled in the presence of the fairer sex. “I am certain we can discuss this matter without being driven to violence.”

  Lord Lichfield scoffed. “I should have pursued you all those months ago when you disappeared, leaving my family to shoulder the burden of scandal.”

  Sybil’s brother pivoted and walked out the door, then, the other man following closely on his heels. Could Gideon get away with slamming the door shut, throwing the latch, and sneaking Sybil out the back door to the stables, returning her home safely while her brother waited outside Gideon’s townhouse?

  That thought was dashed when Sybil appeared at his elbow, slipping her hand into his as she started for the door. Gideon was helpless to do anything but follow her lead.

  “You should wait inside.” Gideon drew to a halt and turned to face her. “Allow your brother and me to speak privately. I may be able to change his mind about us.”

  He looked down into Sybil’s brown eyes, like melted chocolate as the candles from above danced over her face. “Can we not attempt to change his mind together?”

  Perhaps with Sybil present, her brother would be less prone to violence and more likely to remain calm and listen. However, glancing out the door, Gideon saw that Lord Lichfield hadn’t made it but a few steps and now faced him and Sybil, his hands on his hips and his boots shoulder-width apart. If his stance weren’t evidence enough of his fury, then the tightness in his jaw and his noisy, labored breathing was sufficient to give Gideon pause.

  “Brother,” Sybil said, donning her most innocent smile as if they were welcoming Lord Lichfield for morning tea. “However did you find me?”

  “It wasn’t difficult,” Silas snorted. “I know damned well when I forbid you to do something, it is exactly what you will do.”

  “Forbade me to see Gideon? Oh, you did far more than that when you threatened to send me back to France.” The pair glared at one another, and Gideon was hesitant to interrupt. Their expressions said a war of words and wit was eminent; however, their tone remained cordial. “Whoever”—Sybil paused, her stare going to the man at her brother’s side—“is your friend?”

  The man, dressed much like many solicitors and businessmen Gideon had encountered, blinked several times before speaking, “I am the Honorable Mr. Augustus St. Paulson. Magistrate for the Westminster borough.”

  “A magistrate?” Sybil pulled Gideon ever closer until he felt the length of her pressed to his side. “But we haven’t done anything wrong. Have we?”

  “He is only here to make certain you are returned to your family without controversy.”

  “Returned…you say that as if I have been taken,” Sybil countered.

  “Well, how were Slade or I to know you hadn’t been taken against your will?” Lord Lichfield asked.

  “I can assure you, she was not.”

  All heads turned toward the door where Charles stepped outside, his cane firmly in hand.

  “Who are you?” Lichfield demanded.

  “Mr. Charles Smythe—no fancy title or court appointment.” He strode forward to join the group, taking up a place to the right of Sybil as he addressed the magistrate. “May I give my accounting of this evening’s events? I am certain you will see that there was nothing untoward or criminal about Lady Sybil Anson visiting Lord Galway.”

  “I suppose that is the way of things.” Mr. St. Paulson pulled a small notebook and pencil nub from his jacket pocket and nodded to Charles. “I am ready.”

  Charles cleared his throat, adjusted his neckcloth, and tapped his cane tip against the cobbled driveway. If they’d been anywhere else, if the matter at hand weren’t so grave, and if Gideon hadn’t been staring straight into Lord Lichfield’s enraged eyes, he might have chuckled at his friend’s display.

  “Now, Lord Lichfield—henceforth known as the aggrieved party—has no legal standing as Lord Galway—now known as the…well, for lack of a better term since my mind is failing me, the comforted party—did not allow the fair Lady Sybil Anson into his home, I did. When she appeared on his stoop, he did as an
y gentleman would: he welcomed her into his home after I allowed her entrance. He even provided her with a meal, until, you, Lord Lichfield arrived to collect her. Should he have sent her into the cold, dark, dangerous night?” Sybil chortled, but Charles’ serious stare had her quieting. “I dare say, it is Lord Lichfield who has been negligent when it comes to the welfare and well-being of his sister by allowing her, unchaperoned and unprotected, to gallivant about London—“

  Lichfield’s nostrils flared with indignation. “I will have you know—“

  “Enough,” Gideon called, slashing his hand through the air. “I have heard quite enough, Charles, but thank you. And magistrate, Lord Lichfield could no more have kept Lady Sybil in the safety of her home as I could have discouraged her from coming to my townhouse. She is a woman with her own mind, and she does not take kindly to anyone, especially me or the earl, commanding her about.” He paused to take in Lichfield’s reaction. While he looked a bit less enraged, his shoulders were still tense, and his fingers balled into tight fists. “However, it is that mind that has stolen my heart completely. I was helpless to turn her away when she appeared earlier, though I knew I should have loaded her into my coach and delivered her home immediately.”

  “It is what any gentleman worth his salt as such would have done,” Lichfield seethed. “And now, my sister is ruined. Her reputation is in shambles, and there is no one to blame but you, Lord Galway.”

  Gideon’s chest seized at the earl’s harsh tone. He’d wronged and failed so many people in his short life—Charles had been taken, the elder Symthe had died before Gideon brought his son home, Sybil had been mocked and scandalized by his disappearance, and now, he was ruining her all over again.

  He owed everyone present an apology; most of all, Sybil, for hers was truly the only opinion that mattered to Gideon.

  Without a second thought, Gideon turned toward her, taking both of her hands in his as the cool night breeze ruffled her cloak hem and played with her long, brown tresses. “Lady Sybil”—Gideon held her gaze, fearful to look away—“I intended to arrive at your family home as planned to sign the contracts that would bind us as surely as a wedding ceremony. However, things beyond my control—beyond anyone’s control—took me away from London for over a year. I failed you, and I failed your family, but I saved my dear friend.”