‘I was wondering, sir, if you could see your way clear to giving me a morning or afternoon off in the next day or so?’
Anthony nearly dropped his razor. He couldn’t remember the last time Timms had asked for time off. Beyond his usual half-day, of course.
‘Well, of course you can. Take the whole day if you like. Today?’
Timms beamed. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘A pleasure,’ said Anthony drily.
‘You’ll…you’ll be all right, sir?’
Anthony negotiated his chin carefully. ‘I promise not to cut myself shaving, if that’s what you mean.’
‘No, sir. It ain’t my place to say, but I’ve been with you a long time, and well, things haven’t been too good of late, have they?’
Anthony put down the razor and turned. ‘What?’
Timms held his ground. ‘Didn’t do you no good, the missus disappearing the way she did and all. But now she’s back, safe and sound. You’ll do now. Get on with your life.’
‘Have you been talking to Lord Mardon?’ asked Anthony, suddenly suspicious.
‘No, sir. Not but what it’s easy to see he’d give you the same advice, as happy as he is with her ladyship. Does you good just to see ’em together, it does. Like Miss Cassie and her young lord.’
‘And Mr Sinclair?’ asked Anthony, fascinated. Lord! To think Timms was such a romantic!
‘Aye, sir. And once you and the mistress sort out your differences, well, life’s short, sir. You learnt that under old Hookey. Don’t you waste no more of it. That’s all.’
‘Next you’ll be setting up a match for Mr William,’ muttered Anthony, rinsing his face.
‘That waster!’ exploded Timms.
Anthony splashed water on the floor as he jumped.
‘You mark my words,’ growled Timms, ‘up to something shifty, he is. Came a-calling the day after you went off to battle.’
‘Did he, indeed?’ Why had William never mentioned that in the last four years?
‘Oh, aye. The mistress was upset enough before he came, but afterwards! The poor lass could hardly stand, she was that shaken.’
‘What the hell did he say to her?’ Fury surged through Anthony.
Timms gave him a disgusted look. ‘Sent me about my business double quick, he did. And his voice is that slippery soft, damned if I could hear aught through the keyhole. Just the mistress saying ’twas all a misunderstanding, but white as a sheet she was afterwards. Not too much I could say—she sent me out on an errand after he left.’
Anthony’s brain spun as the whole pattern crashed into place. ‘Timms?’
‘Aye, Major?’
‘Do you think this man that’s been seen could possibly be Grant?’
Timms frowned. ‘Could be. But why would he bother?’
Anthony bit his lip. Later he might have to tell Timms what he suspected, but not yet. ‘Trying to get a reference?’ he suggested.
A sceptical snort greeted this. ‘If Mr William was a-going to give him one, he’d of done it by now. And it ain’t as if Grant did anything that Mr William would likely refuse a reference over!’
Anthony forbore to comment on this scathing indictment of his cousin’s morals. If his suspicions were correct, William’s perfidy extended far beyond lifting Lady Margaret’s skirts on the backstairs.
‘Could ask a few quiet questions if you want, Major.’
Anthony nodded. ‘You do that.’
Anthony was still reeling from Timms’s advice and revelations when he found William just about to enter the breakfast parlour.
‘William—have you a moment?’ For the life of him, Anthony couldn’t prevent a chill creeping into his voice. He fought down his rage. After his mistakes with Marcus and Georgie, he daren’t accuse someone else, even without the risk William posed to Marcus.
His hand on the door handle, William turned and gestured gracefully. ‘As many moments as you like. Something I can do for you?’
You’ve done enough already! Swallowing that, Anthony said, ‘Perhaps the library, William. You’ll understand that this must go no further…’
Make him feel that he is still trusted, that I don’t really believe it…God knows I don’t want to. He caught himself up. What did he want to believe? That Georgie was lying? He didn’t believe that. She was a terrible liar. He remembered that once, before they were betrothed, she’d tried to convince him that she didn’t care a rush about her broken betrothal to Finch-Scott, would be perfectly content to take a post as a governess or some such thing. She’d been unable to meet his eyes.
He remembered something else she had told him, on the eve of Waterloo, her eyes, bright with tears, meeting his savage gaze unflinchingly, the words he had longed to hear on her lips. He shoved the memory away. Perhaps she had believed it. A girlish fancy, born of their lovemaking the night before. Whatever, it hadn’t lasted. Even if she hadn’t consciously lied.
And now? The knowledge that she hadn’t returned to him willingly, that she’d been tricked into coming, ground on him.
‘Anthony? Anthony?’
Blinking, he realised that William was staring at him, waiting patiently by the library door.
Clearing his throat, he muttered, ‘Sorry. Woolgathering. Did you enjoy your walk?’
William stared. ‘W…walk? Me? At this hour? What…whatever gave you that idea?’
Swearing mentally at his slip, Anthony flicked a glance at William’s boots. And breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Mud on your boots,’ he said.
‘Oh.’ William gave a laugh. Rather shrill. ‘I just stepped outside for a breath of air. Bit of a head this morning, don’t you know?’
So he didn’t want anyone to know about his stroll in the woods. Why not?
Forcing a grin, Anthony murmured, ‘I trust that’s not a comment on my cellar, cousin.’
‘Lord, no!’ averred William. ‘Excellent cellar. Quite excellent. Just what I should like myself.’
Anthony raised his brows and William appeared to realise that his choice of phrase was infelicitous to say the least.
‘Er, that is to say—well, it’s excellent, quite excellent,’ he finished rather lamely.
They went into the library and Anthony shut the door behind them.
Choosing his words, he said, ‘I need you to cast your mind back—’
‘Consider it cast, coz—’
‘To the Duchess of Richmond’s ball four years ago.’
Was it imagination, or had William’s smile slipped a trifle?
‘Oh. Well, as to that—confusing night, wasn’t it? Lord! I wondered if I’d ever see you again! And—’
‘When you saw Georgiana,’ said Anthony, cutting across William’s reminiscences, ‘did she see you?’
William blinked. ‘Ah, well. Dare say I saw her at the start of the evening. Said good evening and all that. I suppose she saw me then, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Later,’ said Anthony ruthlessly. ‘After the call to arms. When you saw her with Finch-Scott. Did she know that you’d seen her? Did she say anything?’
‘Oh, er, did she say anything? Well, really, coz! Four years ago! How should I recall if she said anything in particular? Lord! Everyone was talking at the top of their lungs!’ He slid his finger under his over-high collar and tugged.
Anthony held on to his anger. ‘William—you implied that she and Finch-Scott had gone out to the garden in a havey-cavey sort of way.’
‘Well—you found them. Wasn’t she kissing him?’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t know when I’ve been more shocked. Except of course when she ran off, coz. Felt for you. I really did. All that gossip afterwards.’ He shook his head mournfully. ‘It was too bad of her. Really too bad! Very generous of you to take her back, under the circumstances…’
Abruptly Anthony turned on his heel and walked over to the window. ‘You called the next morning, I believe.’
‘Called?’
‘On my wife.’
‘Oh, did I?’ He appea
red to consider. ‘Yes, now that you mention it. Just wanted to reassure her. After all, the temper you were in that night! Really!’
‘And you reassured her?’ He could scarcely keep his hands at his side.
‘Well, I tried, of course, but you know what females are. Mind you, I think she was more than a little miffed! Still, to run off like that, just because—’
Anthony cut him off. ‘I see. I think that clarifies things. Thank you, William.’
‘Oh, a pleasure. Glad to have cleared that up for you.’
Anthony gritted his teeth. ‘You won’t mention this to anyone, then?’
‘Certainly not! Wouldn’t dream of it! Er, if that’s all, I’ll just toddle along to breakfast, old man. Are you coming?’
‘In a moment.’ When he regained his self-control, before he accused William outright and took him apart with his bare hands. An accusation could rip the family apart. What would it take for William to shop Marcus to the nearest magistrate? Better to let him think that he was in the clear on this, at least for the moment.
He shut his eyes as the door closed behind William. John had the right of it. He was a damn fool. William, knowing his temper, had trapped Georgie. Then he’d called the next day and no doubt encouraged her fears. Swearing, he paced around the room. He’d brought this on himself, never mind William’s efforts. His blasted pride, blinding him to the truth. One thing was certain—if he wanted to save his marriage, it might be best if he never mentioned the pearls. After all, bar Timms, no one else knew they were gone.
His task now was to convince Georgie that the best way forward for them was a marriage of convenience. Without all these inconvenient emotions creeping in. And in between he had to ensure that Marcus didn’t get himself hanged.
Somehow he must find out if William was meeting Grant and if Grant was the man who had attacked Frobisher. He frowned. He’d gladly pay double the price Grant was demanding of William for information that would save Marcus’s neck.
Chapter Five
Anthony walked into the breakfast parlour, shaken to the core. Instinctively, he looked for Georgie. His breath caught. Discreet, buttoned to the neck and wrist—she had chosen the pink morning gown he had bought her in Brussels. It was perfect on her, bringing out the delicate colour in her cheeks, reminding him mercilessly of the beauties it concealed.
His entire body hardened to instant, aching arousal. Fortunately, Aunt Harriet’s comprehensive condemnation of Marcus’s manners, morals and intelligence had everyone’s attention. He helped himself to bacon and eggs and took the vacant seat next to Georgie, manoeuvring the chair as close to the table as possible. Anything to hide the fact that his breeches had suddenly ceased to fit.
Her tea cup rattled into its saucer.
He leaned over and murmured, ‘Believe it or not, seducing you at the breakfast table is not an option.’
Unfortunately.
Aunt Harriet switched targets. ‘Don’t mumble, Anthony! If you have something of a private nature to say to your wife, it would be better said before you leave your bedchamber! Rubbishing generation!’
Pinning an unnatural smile in place, he said, ‘Good morning, Aunt Harriet. Did you sleep well?’
She glared. ‘Of course I slept well. Never do anything else. And don’t change the subject. When do you mean to take Georgiana up to town to buy her some decent clothes? Not but what this is better than what she had when she came to me, but a few modish gowns wouldn’t go astray.’
Beside him, Georgie stiffened. ‘No. Really, there is not the least need and—’
Cassie cut in. ‘Well, Anthony can hardly take her to town! After all—ouch!’ She glared at Marcus, who glared right back.
Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. Better if that didn’t come out over the breakfast cups. If at all. Could he ensure that Georgie never knew what had been said?
‘Rubbish!’ snapped Aunt Harriet. ‘When I want your opinion, miss, I’ll ask for it! No more than he ought to do.’ She swung back to Georgie and continued, ‘Should be showing you the family jewels as well! The pearls, for example.’
The clatter as William’s knife hit his plate expressed Anthony’s feelings perfectly. At times he wondered if Aunt Harriet had the least idea of what she was saying. This wasn’t one of them. He sat, speechless, as John went purple and Marcus disappeared under the table, with an unconvincing gasp about his napkin.
The rest of the ladies all looked rather blank.
‘The pearls,’ she continued, quite unperturbed, ‘would become her admirably.’
‘They would,’ said Anthony tightly. Trust Aunt Harriet to raise the subject in the worst possible way. Well, Georgie was hardly going to take the subject up with him, so he’d just let it lie.
‘Such lovely weather we are having, are we not, Miss Devereaux?’ asked Peter Quinlan politely. ‘Should you care to stroll with me in the park after breakfast?’
Miss Devereaux looked relieved, if surprised. ‘That would—’
‘Why don’t you look after your own bride, Quinlan?’ suggested Marcus, reappearing with his napkin.
‘Well, naturally I would look after Cassie,’ returned Quinlan, grinning. ‘But you’re doing such a sterling job of kicking her under the table, that I thought Miss Devereaux and I should leave you to it!’
‘Marcus! You leave Peter alone,’ ordered Cassie.
Anthony’s shoulders shook at the sight of Cassie’s indignant face.
‘She’s all yours, Quinlan,’ said Marcus with aplomb. ‘And you wouldn’t believe the pleasure it gives us all to know it!’
‘So glad to have been of service,’ murmured the Viscount, with a wicked glance at his wife, who blushed scarlet.
Reminding himself that Cassie was no longer his concern and that he didn’t need to know just why she was blushing or how Quinlan had been of service, Anthony concentrated on his eggs.
‘Miss Devereaux and I thought we might go riding, Quinlan,’ said Marcus. ‘Perhaps you and Cassie would care to join us.’ He raised a brow at Cassie. ‘A chaperon is always useful.’
Cassie gave as good as she got. ‘Really, Marcus? It’s quite hard to imagine in what way you would find a chaperon useful.’
Anthony choked, avoiding John’s eye. Or Sarah’s. Hell’s teeth…If the goings-on at this house party ever got out—he shuddered to think of the scandal.
Hoping to change the subject, he turned to Aunt Harriet. ‘What would you like to do this morning, Aunt? I could take you for a drive, if you would care for it.’ She was bound to refuse, but he might as well get the credit for offering.
Spearing him with a glare, she said, ‘If you think I’m getting up into a carriage behind any of your wild horses, you can think again! I have some letters to write. Take your wife instead!’
Beside him, Georgie appeared to have turned to stone, her tea cup frozen halfway to her lips. Forcibly reminding himself that strangling one’s great-aunt, no matter the provocation, would make his house party even more scandalous, Anthony said, ‘An excellent idea.’ Or it would be if Georgie didn’t look as though someone had offered to hand her into a tumbril.
Resolutely refusing to look at the pink gown, he said. ‘You’ll need something warmer. And a bonnet. Shall we say, in half an hour?’
With a pelisse over that gown he might, perhaps, stand a sporting chance of not driving straight over the edge of the escarpment.
‘Did you expect her to salute?’ asked Aunt Harriet blandly.
Belatedly, Anthony realised that he had issued not an invitation, but a command. Even Marcus was shaking his head. John simply looked pained.
Georgie’s eyes lifted from her plate and he read her answer at once. Obedience. Conformity. Everything he had demanded of her. Suddenly he knew he didn’t want it. Shaken, he thrust away the knowledge of what he didwant. He had been rude—rudeness had no place in a marriage of convenience.
‘I beg your pardon, Georgie. That was clumsy. Would you care to drive with me?’ The hazel
eyes widened and the soft lips parted in surprise. That stung. Was he such a boor that a simple apology could shock her? Swiftly passing his recent behaviour under review, he backed right away from that question.
‘You really wish me to come?’
William snorted. ‘Wouldn’t ask if he didn’t!’
Silencing William with a glare, he answered her. ‘Yes.’ He forced himself to add, ‘If it would please you.’
She smiled. The shy, beaming smile he remembered. Uncertain, hesitant, as if it hadn’t been used for a long time, it trembled on her lips, lighting her eyes and opening the floodgates on everything better left buried and forgotten.
Cassie’s voice broke in. ‘If that is settled, then I shall ride this morning. Sarah, are you coming?’
Sarah smiled. ‘No, dear. I shall bear Aunt Harriet company. I wish to write to the boys.’
Anthony smiled at the faint tone of longing. ‘Next time, bring them,’ he said. ‘We’ll find room. Timms will help with them.’
Sarah beamed. ‘Thank you, Anthony. I do miss them. Even though their governess is such a wonder. They would love it here.’
He nodded. ‘Then I’ll find a couple of ponies for them.’ It would be good to see a couple of boys romping around as he and Marcus had done so long ago. As he hoped to see his own children one day.
Cassie rose. ‘I’ll go up and change, then. And I had better take off this ring.’ She smiled at Quinlan. ‘Much safer for it than going out on one of Anthony’s wild horses! Is it just the four of us?’
‘I’ll join you,’ said John. ‘William?’ He glanced at his brother, who shrugged.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Think I might stay here for the morning,’ muttered William. He looked, and sounded, thoroughly disgruntled.
Halfway to the door, Cassie glanced back. ‘Are we still to have some archery, this afternoon, cousin?’
About to answer, Anthony realised that she was speaking to Georgie.
Georgie nodded. ‘Of course, Lady Quinlan. Ufton assured me that the targets would be set out and that refreshments would be served under one of the trees in the park. I believe the gentlemen planned to shoot this afternoon?’
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