‘No,’ Telbridge said quietly. ‘I’ve...overlooked some questionable activities before, things I see now I should have put a stop to, but this appalling lack of judgement and consideration passes all limits. I fear I must implement the plan I’d been considering since I got the marquess’s earlier missive. The family has mercantile interests in the Americas; I shall send George to our head office in the Bahamas to learn the business.’
‘Lord help the office in the Bahamas,’ Giles muttered.
‘This time, he must act like a man and learn to make his own fortune. He’s not an unintelligent lad. If he works hard and masters the details of the export business, he could earn a tidy income from it some day. As you will...eventually inherit here, he will need another source of income.’
Since you won’t be here to siphon off funds from the estate for his benefit any longer, Giles thought. ‘I had to come to Abbotsweal to find George anyway, but I did intend to also discuss the matter of the succession. After the election last month, a delegation from Romesly invited me to the village to meet the electors and the tenants hereabouts, wishing me to start becoming acquainted with them and their needs.’
‘Doing for yourself what I had not done?’
Giles couldn’t tell from his tone whether that was meant as comment or accusation. Refraining from answering, he continued, ‘I never meant to tread on Abbotsweal land behind your back; I planned to call here first, and inform you of my intentions.’
‘I’m glad you did call. I should have summoned—requested—you to return to Abbotsweal long since.’ The earl smiled sadly. ‘Inertia, I suppose. Plus, it is hard to admit one is wrong.’
Before Giles could recover from his surprise at that remark, the earl said, ‘I admit, I’ve indulged George too much. And that, without any help from me, you’ve made an impressive name for yourself.’
‘I’m glad you approve,’ he replied, unable to keep an edge of sarcasm from his tone.
The earl laughed. ‘I imagine you don’t give a tinker’s damn what I think—nor have I given you any reason to.’ He paused, his gaze going to the far distance, as if his thoughts had wondered miles away. ‘Did your mother ever give you an explanation for why I sent you away?’
Startled at the change of subject, Giles said, ‘No. Until my aunt came to take me away to school, I had no idea we had been sent away. Aunt Charlotte explained it to me afterward, but...Mama died that same winter, before I could see her again and ask her anything.’
‘Then it’s time you heard the truth. All of it. Which will require some courage.’
The earl went to the sideboard and poured them each a brandy. Sitting back down, he took a long swallow and began. ‘The cottage where you grew up was rented by an old friend, who used to go there for the shooting. My best friend, Richard Kensworthy, and I used it, too. A few years after your mother and I were married, I chanced upon the friend, and he asked me how I’d enjoyed the little taste of honeymoon before my wedding. I must have looked puzzled, for he reminded me that my wife had asked to borrow the cottage just before the wedding. I played along as if I recalled the incident, but I knew she hadn’t gone to the cottage to meet me. It was Richard, of course.’
‘I was in a rage when I returned and accused her. She made no attempt to deny it—it wasn’t adultery, she said, because we were not yet married. And when I asked her if she could assure me that you were my son, she replied that she could not.’
‘I had heard that part. And that because of it, you banished us both.’
The earl sighed. ‘Actually, I didn’t. It was Lydia who no longer wanted to continue our marriage. She said that she still loved Richard, she’d always loved Richard, that she’d only married me because of pressure from her family. I’d pledged to pay off her father’s debts, you see. She said she’d tried to be a good wife, but if I was going to despise her for loving Richard and treat her son with contempt because he might not be my son, she would rather leave.’
‘She wanted to leave?’ Giles echoed, incredulous.
‘Yes. Since you might be Richard’s son, she said she wanted you all to herself. I see now that I should have waited, let us both have time to calm down and think rationally. But I was young, and stupid, and ferociously jealous. Because I did love her, you see. I always had, even though I knew she preferred Richard. I felt almost...guilty, taking advantage of her situation to win her hand, knowing her family would never allow her to marry a penniless younger son. I thought I could make her love me, and when she confirmed I had not, I was furious. She told me she was going to take you and leave, and advised me to divorce her.’ He smiled bitterly. ‘So I might marry again and have a son I was sure was mine.’
‘So you did,’ Giles murmured.
‘So I did.’
‘Why did you allow society to believe you’d cast her out?’
‘Pride. How could I admit to the world that my wife would rather live in a cottage on the downs than with me—’ he gestured around them ‘—in this great old manse? The only concession I won from her was her agreement to live with you in that cottage. Where I could make sure you were both all right, with enough food and such few presents, like books and art supplies, that she would allow me to give her.’
As memories returned in a rush, Giles felt like George had punched him. Mama, receiving a wrapped package with a new book, or some watercolours. A merchant from the nearest village, arriving with a basket of vegetables, a side of beef, flour and supplies to make bread.
The truth dawned in a horrifying rush. ‘You own the cottage on the downs?’
The earl nodded. ‘It’s part of the estate. You will own it one day, which is why I was not willing to sell it to you when you made enquiries, some time ago.’
‘Did your second wife know?’
‘I think she suspected. She knew I never loved her, but there was no pretence of that union being anything more than a marriage of convenience. I wanted a son I knew was mine, and she wanted to marry an earl.’
‘Why did you not come forward when my aunt sent me to school? I know my uncle paid my fees and expenses.’
‘My second wife was still alive then. I knew I could always reimburse Lord Newville later, which I intend to do.’
‘Does no one else know about your connection to the cottage?’
‘The friend who used to rent it—but he was killed at Waterloo. And Richard, of course, but he died in India. I recognised almost immediately that remarriage had been a mistake, but by then it was too late. And by the time my second wife passed away, Lydia was already dead, too. I tried to transfer all my love and devotion to George.’
He shook his head, his expression full of grief. ‘In the process, I ruined him and created a breach with you I didn’t know how to heal. For so long after Lydia died, I didn’t have the heart to try. So you see, the son I loved too well turned into selfish, shallow, reckless man concerned only with his own wishes; the son I spurned has become a man any father would be proud of. After this business with George, you have no reason to like or even respect me, but the estate will one day be yours. It’s past time I began showing you how to run it. I’d like to begin again, if you’ll let me.’
With everything he’d ever believed about the relationship between his mother and the earl turned on its head, Giles hardly knew what to think. Regardless of the maelstrom of conflicting emotions raging inside, the earl’s offer was a reasonable one—the best resolution he could have wished for, for the good of the estate and himself.
‘I’m not sure how to begin over either,’ he admitted. He might never be able to conquer his anger and resentment for the man who’d allowed him to grow up fatherless all those years. ‘I will try. And I will certainly accept your offer to acquaint me with the estate.’
The earl held out his hand. Giles shook it.
‘Can you stay?’ Telbridge asked. ‘I
’ll have the housekeeper prepare rooms for you.’
‘No, I must get back to London as soon as I’ve spoken with the delegates in Romesley. I’ve hardly held my weight the last few weeks on finishing the final preparations for reading the Reform Bill out of committee. If it’s agreeable to you, once it’s passed—it will pass—and Parliament adjourns, I’ll return.
‘Besides,’ he added ruefully, ‘you had better not trust me under the same roof with George. Perhaps by the time Parliament dissolves, you’ll have dispatched him to those poor unwary souls in Bermuda.’
The earl held up a cautionary hand. ‘As you’ve not given up on me, after all my poor decisions these many years, I’m not yet ready to give up on George. He may yet find the tiller that can right his ship.’
‘I will pray he does,’ Giles said. Although that transformation would be a daunting task even for the Almighty. ‘Now, I need to return to Romesly. I sent Lord Witlow a note before I left London, promising to return as soon as possible and let him know what would be done about George.’
The earl nodded. ‘I will write him as well, offering my sincere apologies and assuring him George will cause no more trouble. Also, to give him my thanks for choosing not to resolve this in a public manner that would cause embarrassment to us both. Will it be possible to obtain mercy for the two men George hired?’
‘If the marquess chooses not to press charges, probably.’
‘I will request it in my note. Perhaps they, too, can be...relocated.’
Giles stood, and the earl stood, too, offering his hand again. Giles shook it firmly.
‘Goodbye, Lord Telbridge. I’ll send you a note when I know when I can return.’
‘Do that. Goodbye...my son.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Giles rode back to Romesly, almost dizzy from the velocity of the thoughts and questions whizzing around in his head about what the earl—his father—had just revealed.
His mother had wanted to end the marriage.
The earl had always loved her, had watched over and protected them all the years he was growing up.
The earl would have forgiven her and continued the marriage—but she had wanted to live apart. To treasure her son by herself.
He was not the cause of her ruin and banishment.
He’d always told himself he didn’t believe George’s taunt, but as he began to fully assimilate the truth of the relationship between the earl and his mother, his entire soul felt suddenly light, as if a terrible burden had been lifted. Perhaps, he thought wryly, he’d believed it more than he’d realised.
Mr Angleton and the voters of Romesly would be thrilled to learn he’d reconciled with the earl—removing any worry about possible retribution against them for ousting George from his Parliamentary seat.
He knew one other person who’d be thrilled to know he would be taking up his proper role for the estate. His chest expanded with anticipation and delight at the thought of telling her.
But...Maggie had asked him not to call on her again. Because she believed, deep down, he was only ‘trifling’ with her, as George had warned? How could she believe that, after all they had been to each other?
He’d been so shocked and dismayed when she’d broken with him, he’d hardly made sense of her words. Suddenly, some of them recurred to him: Love simply happens...or it does not. I bear you no ill will because it did not happen for you...
For you. Was that to say love had happened, for her?
He had missed her as he’d never missed any other woman, longed for her as he’d not longed for any other woman. And he could not imagine wanting any other woman by his side when he took up the tasks that would be his destiny.
‘I love you, Maggie mine,’ he whispered with incredulous delight, and then laughed out loud for the joy of it. Perhaps it had taken learning the full truth about his mother’s love and the earl’s heartache, to free himself from the past and leave him open to recognising a love of his own.
Whatever the reason, he suddenly knew, with as much certainty as he knew his own name, that he loved Maggie Dennison Roberts.
Love comes to us, unbidden.
So it had, but given the earl’s salutary example, he wasn’t going to let his slip away from him.
And he was prepared to use every weapon at his command, including that explosive passion they both had so much difficulty resisting, to woo his shy fawn back to him.
* * *
A week later, Maggie sat in the little study at Cavendish Square, planning out the seating arrangement for Papa’s dinner. It had been two weeks since she’d given Giles his congé, but she’d made little progress in banishing the aching sadness that afflicted her during every waking moment and haunted her sleep.
With the danger of further attack removed, she’d thrown herself back into her duties as hostess for her father and mistress of his household. She’d tried to fill up any odd spare moments shopping for new gowns, perusing the shelves at Hatchards, and making calls on acquaintances in town she normally never bothered with. All to keep herself from brooding about how much she missed him, and how dreary her life was, now that she’d banished him.
But new gowns only reminded her of how he’d unlaced her out of her bodice, and Hatchards of the books they’d discussed, and making calls of their secret rendezvous, she waiting with breathless anticipation for him to ride from the park and slip up the stairs at Upper Brook Street and join her.
Only by recalling the memory of Francis and the dire consequences of succumbing to passion, could she keep herself from summoning him back.
She’d fobbed off Papa, when he’d asked in concern what was ailing her, by saying she was still recovering from the shock of being shot at. The shock of loving and losing Giles was far greater, of course, but she would get through it, she kept telling herself. It would get better.
She pushed away the depressing thought that she’d never really got over losing Robbie. What made her think recovering from this second blow would be any easier?
Would Giles come, if she summoned him?
Exasperated, she squelched the useless speculation. She would not summon him. If he ever returned, it would be because he could not stay away. Because he’d belatedly realised he loved her, as she’d finally come to realise she loved him.
As she reached that conclusion, Rains walked in. ‘Viscount Lyndlington to see you, Lady Margaret.’
So completely wrapped up in thinking about him had she been, at first she wasn’t sure she hadn’t just imagined hearing his name.
‘W-who did you say?’
‘Lord Lyndlington,’ Rains repeated.
‘Oh,’ she said faintly, her heart commencing to beat so hard in her chest she had difficulty thinking. ‘Show him into the Blue Salon.’
Rains peered at her with concern. ‘Are you all right, my lady?’
‘Quite all right,’ she replied unsteadily, knowing it was a lie. ‘Tell him I’ll be right in.’
After the butler went out, Maggie rose from her desk, unsure what to do next. Check your coiffure, make sure there are no ink smudges on your nose or fingers, she told herself, having difficulty recalling what would normally be second nature.
Go to him.
She tried to ground the great, ravenous bird of hope that was flapping its wings in her chest, trying to take flight, making it hard for her to breathe.
He’d probably come to tell her the final results of the shooting incident. Though her father had already shown her Mr Hines’s report.
Go in and see, looby.
She walked to the parlour on legs that seemed stiff and awkward. When she opened the door and saw him waiting for her, joy consumed her, and it took every bit of restraint she possessed not to run across the room and throw herself into his arms.
‘Giles, what a pl
easant surprise,’ she said instead, making herself walk at a decorous pace. ‘So, have you finished your quest?’
He came over and took her hand, those marvellous blue eyes scanning her face as he brought her fingers to his lips. She bit her lip against a whimper of delight.
‘It’s wonderful to see you, too, Maggie. Yes, the quest is complete. I’d thought to write you a note, but there was so much to say, I decided to come in person. I hope you don’t mind.’
Oh, she minded! Torn between telling him to leave, before the ache of needing him grew any sharper, and begging him never to leave, she simply nodded and gestured towards the sofa.
Prudently seating herself on a chair, she got her unruly thoughts under control. ‘What did you discover?’
‘As your father might have told you, the investigation showed that George had indeed paid for Godfrey to fire at you. When I went to confront him, I discovered he’d returned to Abbotsweal, so I was obliged to follow him there.’
‘So you met your father at last—and survived, I see. I assume you did not murder George?’
‘No, though I certainly considered it. It turned out to be a...surprising meeting, in many ways.’
‘Can you tell me about it, without violating any confidences?’
‘I intend to.’
They paused then, Rains returning with wine. While he poured, Maggie thought how wonderful it was to have Giles sitting in her parlour, confiding in her as they had so often when they lay in each other’s arms at Upper Brook Street. How she ached for the precious hours she had not appreciated nearly enough when she had them!
After the butler walked out, Giles said, ‘I’d feared Telbridge would support George, despite the evidence of his wrongdoing. The threat of possible prosecution by your father might have influenced him, but for whatever reason, of his own volition, he’s decided to send George to the Bahamas to learn the management of the earl’s export business there, with the possibility of running it himself one day, if he does well.’
‘Perhaps he will, with a change of place and occupation. And a knowledge that he cannot count on the earl to support him for ever.’
Forbidden Nights with the Viscount Page 24