It Started With a Whisper

by Dawn Brower

  Charles clapped Gideon on the shoulder, but still, he would not take his stare from Sybil’s. He needed her to know and understand—even if her family was unwilling to listen—that he realized he’d disappointed her but was determined to make amends.

  “I promise you, Sybil, that I will do all in my power, from this day forward, to prove to you how sorry I am that I failed you. To show you each and every day that my love for you is true and never waning.”

  Tears glistened in Sybil’s eyes, and Gideon feared for a brief moment that he’d upset her again, caused her some unintended hurt or anguish.

  His heartbeat sped up until he felt the rush through his entire body. “While I owe your family much for protecting you when I could not—especially from the London gossip my disappearance caused—it is now I who should care for you.” Gideon squeezed Sybil’s fingers before bringing her gloved hand to his lips. “Lady Sybil Anson, I have loved you since the day we met. I loved you when miles and circumstances kept us apart. I will love you more and more each day until my last dying breath steals me from this Earth. Will you do me the extreme honor of becoming my wife? My viscountess?”

  Gideon sucked in a deep breath and waited, the moments ticking by as they held one another’s gaze. It was no longer Gideon who held her stare, but Sybil making it impossible for him to look away. Without her, he would surely crumble. If she rebuffed his offer, Gideon would not likely survive it. He would be broken, ravished, and unable to go on.

  “Well, it appears Lord Galway has satisfied his obligation to correct his slights against this woman’s honor in the eyes of the law,” the magistrate murmured.

  Lichfield stomped his foot, taking a step closer to his sister. “Like bloody hell—“

  “Yes, Gideon,” Sybil sighed. “I will wed you. For my love never diminished either, not even in your absence.”

  Gideon gave a hoot of joy and swept Sybil into his arms—Lord Lichfield be damned—and swung her around. He hadn’t been sure she’d agree to wed him again, especially after everything he put her through.

  “I do believe a kiss is proper…to seal the deal as one is wont to say,” Charles called with a laugh. “Come now, Lichfield, you should be happy. Now, you only have that blackguard, Sladeton, to see married. Your responsibility is half completed.”

  Gideon chuckled as he halted, Sybil settling before him as she reached up on tiptoes to place her lips against his.

  She pulled back quickly, her cheeks flaming at the intimacy displayed before so many. “Gideon, I never doubted this day would come.”

  “The moment we would be standing in my drive in the middle of the night with your brother spitting mad, Charles prodding on his anger, and a magistrate present?” Her eyes twinkled as she nodded, her mouth pulling into a wide smile. “Well, I can assure you I never imagined a day such as this.”

  The thunder of hooves stampeded down the road beyond, the beasts turning into Gideon’s driveway as the riders pulled to a halt and leapt from their mounts.

  “Bloody hell!” Lichfield shouted as he stepped before his sister.

  Gideon did the same, pushing Sybil behind him as the pair of newly arrived men sauntered forward.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Gideon called.

  “We be here on official-like business for Mr. Charles Smythe and Viscount Galway.” The men moved close enough to Gideon for him to take in their attire: threadbare, short trousers, and coats that had seen many days at sea. The salty smell of the open water emanated from the pair as their beady, narrowed eyes trained on him.

  “What is your business with them?” Charles asked. “Not that we know where they are, mind you.”

  “Mr. Charles Smythe be a deserter—a treacherous crime ta be certain,” one of the men offered as he ran his hand through his oily hair. “Viscount Galway is ta face charges of aid’n ‘im. Both be deemed capital crimes.”

  “Capital crimes?” Sybil pushed from behind Gideon and marched forward until she stood nose-to-nose with the man who’d spoken. “Surely, this is a jest.”

  The color had drained completely from Charles’ face, and his hand trembled where he held his cane. They’d both known capture was possible, and understood that the punishment would be severe if they were found, but they’d come so far, even spotting a bright light of hope in their futures.

  Sybil had agreed to marry him.

  But before anything could be done, he was to be ripped away…again…with little chance of returning to her.

  “I am Charles Symthe,” his friend stepped forward. “I will go with you willingly.”

  “What is going on?” Lichfield demanded. “No one is going anywhere. Not until I find out what this is about.”

  The earl looked between Gideon, Sybil, and Charles, waiting for someone to speak.

  “Lord Galway disappeared last year because of me,” Charles offered. “I was taken and impressed into service during the war. My ship ported in England, and when Gideon got word, he came for me. If anyone is to blame, it is I, Lord Lichfield, not Gideon.”

  “I not be care’n who’s ta blame.” The sailor glanced at his mate and nodded toward Charles. “We’ll take ‘im and come back for the other. Cap’n will be happy nuff with that.”

  “You cannot take him.” Sybil lifted her chin as if daring the men to go against her wishes. “I will not allow it.”

  “Move out o’ the way, ye Friday-faced light skirt,” the sailor spit out. “We haven’t the time for ye meddle’n.”

  Gideon had known Sybil to be headstrong, but her bravery bordered on insanity. The men before her were hardened sailors, likely killers where the need arose. Yet, she did not back down when the oily-haired seaman took a menacing step toward her.

  Gideon’s heart froze in his chest as if a sudden ice storm assaulted his entire body, keeping him from moving even the barest of inches. Only feet separated him from Sybil, but it might as well have been the English Chanel.

  The sailors both angled their bodies toward Sybil, their narrowed stares enough to bring most grown men to their knees in fear, except Sybil made no move to back down. There was no chance Gideon could reach her before one of the men made to strike her.

  Chapter 9

  All’s well that ends well…as the saying goes. I have it on good authority that London will shortly see another wedding shrouded in scandal and mystery with no small amount of intrigue! This author would swoon, but my latest headpiece would not survive the fall, I assure you. I reported over a year ago that the fair Lady Sybil Anson was to wed Lord Galway and, dear readers, I am never wrong.

  ~ Whispers from Lady X

  Sybil ignored the shiver of apprehension that coursed through her as one of the men attempted to grab her arm with his filthy, calloused, ungloved hands. Deftly, she sidestepped the sailor but did not allow them a clear path to Charles.

  In an instant, Gideon was by her side, prepared to protect both Sybil and his friend.

  How had she ever thought Gideon a scoundrel? He would gladly sacrifice himself for his friend, and Sybil knew that if she were to fall into evil hands, he’d be there to rescue her, too.

  “Do not lay a hand on the lady,” Gideon thundered.

  “Step aside. We be collect’n what we came for.”

  “You will not be leaving here with anyone.” It was Silas’s deep, stern voice that voiced the words, his tone brooking no argument. He’d stepped forward to stand on the other side of Sybil, making it three people the sailors would need break through in order to get to Charles. “I require your papers, gentlemen.”

  The pair glanced at one another when Silas held out his hand and waited, wiggling his fingers to emphasize his demand.

  “We not be need’n ta prove anythin’ ta the likes o’ ye.” The sailor stood his ground, folding his arms across his chest and spitting at Silas’s feet. “This be a court matter.”

  All eyes moved to the spittle that clung to the toe of her brother’s polished Hessian.

  “Gentlemen—and
I use that term rather loosely…” Silas smiled. It was the same grin Sybil was known to have when she was up to something. “Allow me to introduce the Honorable Mr. Augustus St. Paulson. He is a magistrate in good standing with the courts of England.”

  “This be maritime law, ye bloody nob.” Both sailors chuckled, thinking they’d outwitted Silas, but Sybil suspected differently. Her brother rarely embarked on a task unless he was certain he held the upper hand. “Now, move aside already before we be put’n a fist ta ye chin.”

  “Without any paperwork on the matter, you are trespassing on my property,” Gideon replied, sending a conspiratorial glance in Silas’s direction.

  At some point, things had altered between her brother and Gideon. They’d gone from foes to allies in the blink of an eye. They now had a common objective.

  Justice, fairness, loyalty.

  Honor.

  “Mr. St. Paulson, what say you?” Gideon nodded at the magistrate.

  The tall, lanky man swallowed, adjusted his cravat, and cleared his throat—an obviously redundant gesture that filled Sybil with no assurance that the man was up to the task of his position as magistrate.

  “We not be care’n what this jackanape be think’n, do we, Donovan?” the man who’d attempted to grab Sybil asked his partner, his lips pulling wide in a grin that showed his rotting teeth. “Been chase’n this swab all ‘cross the country, we have.”

  “While I am well versed in the law of the land, I find my jurisdiction to impose rules does not extend to maritime law and that of the British Navy. However, if you have not brought with you any written notice to apprehend and return Mr. Charles Smythe, gentlemen, then I cannot, in good faith of the law of this great land, allow you to leave with him in tow.” The words left St. Paulson on a long exhale, and the man’s shoulders caved in after he’d stated his piece.

  Sybil couldn’t help but wonder what the magistrate would do if his words were challenged.

  “As we said, we ain’t got no paperwork,” the sailor, Donovan, argued.

  “We couldn’t read it even if’n we did,” his conspirator muttered.

  “Then it appears you have no standing here.” Silas clapped his hands, signaling the end of it all. “Gentlemen, it is time you depart.”

  The sailors glared at Silas and Gideon, but never did their eyes meet Sybil’s. They knew they had no recourse to collect Charles, though they were having a difficult time accepting the fact.

  On each side of her, Sybil felt the coiled strength of her brother and Gideon—the man she loved—ready to do battle if it came to that.

  “Gentlemen, let us retire inside,” Sybil called to the party at large, lifting her chin a notch. “These fellows are leaving, and I will not have this day marred by bloodshed. It is not every day a woman accepts the marriage proposal of the man she loves with all her heart.”

  Gideon and Silas held their ground until the seamen mounted their horses and fled the drive, while Sybil led Charles and Mr. St. Paulson inside. She didn’t pause until they’d entered the study she and Gideon had been in earlier. A servant must have tended to the fire while they were outside, and a refreshment cart with cakes and steaming tea had been rolled close to the sideboard.

  She couldn’t help but smile as she offered both men drinks and food while they waited for Silas and Gideon to join them. She hoped that their alliance had been solidified in an unbreakable manner. Sybil had no intention of departing England or turning away Gideon’s offer of marriage.

  In fact, Sybil was past the age of needing her brother’s approval to wed, and with the magistrate present, the matter could be handled with a swift edict from a court official. It had been Silas who’d brought the man when the entire situation should have been handled privately amongst their families.

  Her stomach twisted at the mere thought of needing to go to such great lengths to prove to her family that Gideon was the man she chose to spend the rest of her life with.

  She handed both men cups and small plates filled with delicate pastries and sandwiches and they settled, the magistrate taking a straight-backed chair away from the fire while Charles sank to the lounge, propping his cane against the wall. Helping herself to a plate, she lowered to sit beside Charles as he stared silently into his cup.

  “Charles?” she asked. “Is there something else I can get for you?”

  His eyes lifted to meet hers, devoid of the good spirits he’d shown at their meal, and Sybil couldn’t help but feel a measure of sorrow for him. Imagining the horrors and pain he’d suffered during his forced years at sea was something Sybil simply wasn’t prepared for. That did not mean she could not offer him comfort and a kind ear if needed, however.

  “Lady Sybil, you—as well as Lord Lichfield—have been gracious enough this night.” Charles shook his head, the action sending several droplets of tea over the rim of the cup and onto his bare hands. However, he did not seem to notice the hot liquid as he next spoke. “I had no intention of bringing any danger to you, my lady, and I pray that you and your family can forgive me.”

  It startled Sybil to realize the depth of Charles’ guilt. “No harm came to me, and even if it had, I would still have been there to stand up for you.”

  “Gideon and I waited many months to return to London”—Charles paused, grinning over at Sybil—“and my dear friend droned on and on about you every day. I nearly fled in the middle of the night to be away from his tales of love, and the fables of your beauty.”

  Sybil laughed along with Charles, content to know that, once again, Gideon had been nothing but truthful with her.

  “However, your beauty and steadfast, loyal nature are far beyond anything he shared.” Charles brought his cup to his lips and took a long, slow sip, his eyes drifting closed as he drank. “I am so happy that my dearest friend has found you. He deserves to be loved and cared for, especially after so many years carrying the burden of my abduction on his shoulders.”

  “He never spoke of you to me before today. Not even the day he fled London,” Sybil confessed. It was her turn to look away, not having the strength to meet Charles’ stare. “Why do you think that is?”

  She needed to know—did Gideon not trust her?

  When Charles sighed, Sybil feared the worst. Gideon may love her, but he might never share with her his deepest moments, thoughts, and concerns.

  “Over the years, Gideon scoured both England and Scotland in search of me. He had men stationed at every port, watching and waiting for any sighting of me. He’d had so many false reports over the years…so many times he’d hurry to Dover or up toward Edinburgh only to have his hopes dashed.” With his free hand, Charles rubbed at his leg, likely to soothe the chronic pain from his injury. “Disappointment, guilt, and shame are powerful, all-consuming emotions. To be honest, I don’t think Gideon ever thought to see me again. Not truly. Why would he mention his greatest failure—his words, not mine—to the woman he adores?”

  “If a person loves another, they do not cast blame so out of hand.”

  Charles chuckled, a bitter, heavy sound that attracted the notice of the magistrate where he sat on the opposite side of the room. “The blame had already been cast, so in a way, he was keeping from you anything that could tarnish your love for him.”

  Sybil lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you blame him for your capture?”

  “Heavens no, my lady.” Charles set his cup on the table beside the lounge and stared into the crackling hearth. “Even the day after I was taken, when I awoke at sea with England long out of sight, I did not lay the burden on Gideon. We were men, young as we were at the time, and the gang could’ve taken either of us or both of us. I was the unlucky one; yet, I was the mere son of a commoner with no future except what Gideon’s father had promised me. Gideon and his family could afford to lose me, but Gideon…Gideon was, is destined for greater things.”

  “Because he is titled?” Sybil squeaked, the implication angering her. To think that one man’s life was any more important than
another’s solely because of their status at birth…it was inconceivable. Yet, it was everything England was built upon.

  “Partly.” Charles’ candid confession brought a new anguish to her. “However, that is not the only reason. Gideon is a good, honorable, kind, and compassionate man. He will take his place among the men shaping this country for generations to come. He will do good, far more than a man such as I could ever hope to achieve.”

  “I cannot believe that, Mr. Smythe,” Sybil refuted.

  “That Gideon is honorable and kind?”

  “No, that your life is less meaningful than Gideon’s.” Why did saying the words cause her heart to hammer in her chest? Could it be because she’d been raised to believe that the life of a nobleman was worth more than that of a commoner?

  “I am not saying that either,” Charles said, patting her hand.

  Two sets of footfalls sounded in the hall.

  “Please, Lady Sybil, do not punish Gideon for keeping my existence from you.” Charles pushed to his feet and collected his cane. “He never meant to hurt you. I will bid you good night. I believe the matter to be discussed is a family issue.”

  “You are Gideon’s family,” Sybil said with a shrug. “I maintain that you have as much right to be here as I…and I can state, with certainty, that Gideon and I will be lucky to have you in our corner.”

  Both Gideon and Silas strolled into the room. Gideon’s eyes surveyed the space until they landed on her, and he visibly sighed with relief. Her brother went directly to the magistrate.

  “Mr. St. Paulson,” Silas called, waving the man from his seat. “What is Mr. Smythe’s recourse at this juncture if the men return?”

  Gideon reached into his jacket pocket. He retrieved a sealed note and held it out for Silas and the magistrate to see. “This will resolve all the confusion.”