by Lydia Dare
“You’re discussing the trial then?” Sophie asked, blatantly ignoring Maddie’s advice to remain quiet and sitting in one of the appointed chairs.
“Indeed,” Lady Eynsford agreed as her gaze settled on Sophie, as though she were assessing her.
Maddie stepped forward. “Lady Eynsford, allow me to introduce my friend Lady Sophia Cole who is staying here at the castle for a time. Sophie, this is the Marchioness of Eynsford, our nearest neighbor.”
“A pleasure.” Sophie flashed her most winning smile.
Grandmamma and Lady Eynsford exchanged a glance that Maddie suspected meant Grandmamma had already told the marchioness all about Sophie. Blast. She had hoped to get to spin the tale her own way first. No matter how many times one heard a tale, the first telling always held the most influence. And Grandmamma had no love for Sophie. “A pleasure indeed,” the lady replied with a gentle smile.
“You’re Scottish?” Sophie’s grin widened. “Lady Madeline didn’t mention as much.”
“Aye, I’m from Edinburgh. Have ye been north?”
“Oh, I’ve been all over,” Sophie replied. “I had a very adventurous mother, my lady. We once traveled as far north as the Orkneys when I was much younger.”
“Sophie just returned from a stay in Venice,” Maddie supplied, getting back to the matter at hand as she took her own seat. After all, Sophie would still be in Italy if she hadn’t gotten word of her father’s death and if all her funds hadn’t dried up.
Grandmamma narrowed her icy eyes in Sophie’s direction. “As you were most recently in their country, what do you make of these Italian witnesses?”
The marchioness frowned. “I doona think this is an appropriate conversation, Eugenia.”
Grandmamma dismissed the suggestion with a wave of her bejeweled hand. “Posh. They’re both literate, Caitrin. All that rubbish is printed in The Times anyway.”
“I feel terribly for Queen Caroline,” Maddie offered softly.
“Don’t we all,” Grandmamma agreed. “The poor woman has been ignored and maligned for the length of her marriage. Instead of trying to dissolve their union, the King should be apologizing for his treatment of Her Majesty on bended knee.”
“Speaking of ill-treatment—” Maddie began.
“But to parade those foreigners,” her grandmother spoke over her, “into the Lords and have them tell such lies for all the country to hear…”
“Do you think they’re lies?” Sophie asked, sliding forward in her chair.
“You tell me, Lady Sophia,” Grandmamma replied. “You are more familiar with Italians than I am, but I do not trust witnesses who have been paid for their testimony. If one is telling the truth, there is no reason for payment.”
“There is no quality finer than one’s impeccable honor,” Maddie agreed. “And speaking of honor—”
“You should repeat that to the throng of young lords your father is bringing home with him this evening.”
Maddie’s mouth dropped open. A throng of young lords? “I beg your pardon?” Though she had a fairly good idea what her grandmother meant, and her stomach twisted at the thought.
“He sent word last night that he had invited a number of unmarried peers to the castle for the break.”
Blood drained from Maddie’s face and she felt a little weak. “Pray tell me he didn’t accept an offer on my behalf.”
“If he had, I’m sure he’d only be bringing one unmarried peer with him instead of a number. But if you would only set your cap for one, he wouldn’t have to resort to such tactics.”
Maddie scoffed. “After the conversation we were just having, how can you even ask that of me? The King himself only married Caroline of Brunswick so Parliament would increase his income. He was no different than the fortune hunters pursing me, only on a larger scale. Please forgive my reservations about wanting to leap into such an unfortunate arrangement for myself.”
“Not all men are fortune hunters, Maddie,” her grandmother grumbled.
“Oh, only the ones I’ve met then?”
At that moment Lady Eynsford gasped. Her hand flew to her chest and she bolted from her seat. “Havers!”
“What is the matter, Caitrin?”
The marchioness started for the door. “I am terribly sorry, Eugenia. I just had the worst feelin’ that somethin’ awful is about ta happen at Eynsford Park. Do forgive me.” And with that, the lady rushed into the corridor.
Sophie turned her bewildered expression to Maddie, who could only shrug an answer. More unsettling than Lady Eynsford’s sudden dash for home was that Maddie hadn’t been able to even mention Lord Radbourne’s fleecing of Sophie’s late father, though not for a lack of trying.
Two
Eynsford Park, Kent
At that same moment…
Weston Hadley would like nothing more than to pound his twin brother’s face into the rug at their feet. After a quarter of a century together, he’d had all that he could take of Grayson’s boastful demeanor. “You most certainly are not a better curricle driver than I am.”
Gray’s eyes lit with humor as the two of them bounded past the Eynsford nursemaid and into their niece and nephew’s nursery. “Would you care to wager on that, little brother?”
Wager? Wes would be much happier knocking the jackass’ head from his shoulders. “We are the same bloody age,” he growled. Then he softened his voice when tiny Lady Aurelia Thorpe winced from her spot at her miniscule table and chairs. “There’s my little angel,” he cooed to Lia, one of the few females who didn’t flee in fear of him or his scar.
“You always say we’re the same age,” Gray goaded. “But I beat you into this world. And I can beat you at anything else.”
Wes sank to his haunches beside his adorable niece who’d captured his heart the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. “What do you say, Lia? Do you want to go down and see Uncle Weston’s new high-perch phaeton?” He shot his brother a sly look. “It’s ever so much more grand and faster than your Uncle Grayson’s old pile of rubbish.”
“It’s a miracle you even made it from London in the thing.”
“Hate to admit that I’m a better driver than you?”
“Hardly.” Gray reached out his hand to Lucien Thorpe, the two-year-old Earl of Brimsworth and Aurelia’s male counterpart. “It appears the ladies would like to venture outside, pup.” The child toddled over to Gray, who held out his finger for the little boy to grasp with his pudgy hand. “If we don’t go and take a look at the contraption, Uncle Weston will never let us have any peace,” he added in a conspirator’s tone.
Ladies, indeed. Gray was perilously close to sporting two blackened eyes. Pity the bruises would only last a few minutes. Wes rose to his feet and scooped Lia up in his arms. “Word of advice—always ignore Uncle Grayson, love. He never says anything of importance. Let’s go for a ride, shall we?”
Lia smiled up at him, her blue eyes round with adoration. No question about it, Lia was his most favorite female.
Somewhere behind him, Gray scoffed.
Wes couldn’t help looking back over his shoulder at his twin. “Are you coming or not?”
“And miss you strutting around like a peacock? Oh, it’s my favorite pastime.” Gray lifted Lucien onto one of his shoulders as they all headed for the door.
However, the children’s nursemaid blocked their exit, her arms folded beneath her breasts. “Are you quite certain her ladyship would be all right with you taking them? You know what happened the last time…” Her voice trailed off in an anxious quiver.
Of course Weston remembered what had happened the last time. Though it wasn’t his or Gray’s fault, the stables had gone up in a blaze. Archer was the one who’d tossed the lit cheroot to the ground. Besides, the children had never been in any real danger. Lia and Lucien were always safe with their uncles. Still, the blistering that Eynsford had given the three of them had rung in his ears for days. Their oldest half brother acted as though the children were breakable. Good lord, i
f his own mother had felt that way, he, Gray, and Archer would never have had any fun as young lads. And fun was just what his niece and nephew deserved.
“Lady Eynsford is at Castle Hythe,” Wes informed the fretful nurse as he sailed past her with Lia in his arms. “She won’t be back for hours.”
“We’ll only be outdoors,” Gray added in a much more placating tone.
The nurse flushed when his brother winked at her.
“You are such a letch,” Weston murmured as Gray and Lucien followed him down the hallway.
“Because I know how to get what I want?”
“Because you’re not above flirting with the servants to smooth your path.”
Gray’s mouth flew open in mock dismay. Then he pressed Lucien’s head against his chest and covered the lad’s ears. “You dare to speak of my flirting? I vaguely remember that you took a member of the household staff to your bed just weeks ago.” He grumbled beneath his breath. “And you dare to cast censure on me because I flirted with the nurse.”
Wes felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. “She was quite well satisfied with the entire situation.”
“Until Cait sacked her,” Gray shot back.
“I was a little regretful about that,” Weston said as they walked past Eynsford’s startled butler. “But it’s not my fault she was caught absconding with the family silver.” Wes stepped out into the sunshine and clutched Lia tightly to him when she jumped in his arms at the sight of his shiny, new high-perch phaeton, so sleek and glistening in the sun. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It’s all right,” his brother said drolly, as he appraised the vehicle with a critical eye. “A bit light, isn’t it?”
“All the better to make it faster,” Wes said proudly.
“All the better to make it flip,” Gray retorted.
“All the better to win races.” Wes recognized immediately that his tone was abrasive. But he didn’t care. He was tired of being the ugly twin. Ever since he’d received the scar that slashed across his cheek, he’d been considered to be beneath his brother. Not by the family, of course, but by the ton. None of the Hadleys had ever been sought out by society, but they’d managed to fit in on rare occasions. Now he didn’t fit in anywhere.
“My curricle is still faster,” Gray taunted.
“I highly doubt that,” Wes tossed back.
“Would you care to make a wager on it?”
“How much?” Wes had spent a good deal of money on the new vehicle, and his pockets were nearly to let. But he didn’t want his brother to know that.
“How much do you have?”
“How much do you have?” Wes shot back.
“Fifty quid.”
Wes didn’t have nearly that much, not now anyway. But it didn’t matter, he’d win. There was no way Gray’s curricle could touch Wes’ new phaeton. Then he’d take his brother’s blunt and walk away as the winner. He couldn’t ask for a better day. “Deal,” he said before Gray could change his mind. “The road to Hythe, then?” It was the smoothest path in the vicinity. One could truly pick up some speed going that direction.
“Hythe!” Gray tipped back his head and laughed. “Do you think you’ll beat me, burst through the castle doors as victor, and swing Lady Madeline into your arms?”
Wes would have growled in response, but he refused to give his brother such satisfaction. Lady Madeline, indeed. The chit tried her hardest to never meet Wes’ eye on the rare occasions they were in the same room. “On the contrary,” Wes replied evenly as he placed Lia on the phaeton’s bench, “I thought to boast of my accomplishment to Rob, as he was quite impressed with my purchase.” Then he climbed up beside his niece and settled Lia on his lap.
“Oh!” Gray chortled. “Robert Hayburn, is it?” He gestured for the groom to bring his curricle around. “We are twins, Weston, or have you forgotten? And I know exactly which Hayburn you want to boast to.”
Wes unhooked the reins from the seat irons and clutched them tightly in his hand. When he looked over at Gray, his brother was tucking his arm around Lucien’s middle.
“Don’t worry, love. It won’t even be a contest,” he whispered to his niece who giggled.
Gray met Wes’ eyes. “I’ll go first, shall I?”
“Might as well. It’ll be the only time you lead this afternoon.”
Gray scoffed as his curricle pulled out of the drive. Wes followed until they were out of sight of the manor. Heaven forbid anyone from Eynsford Hall should see what they were about to do. Gray finally stopped at the widest part of the road.
Lia danced with excitement in Wes’ lap. “That’s right, love,” he cooed to her as he lined his phaeton up beside his brother’s smaller and bulkier curricle. “We’re going to take Uncle Grayson for all he’s worth.”
His niece looked back and patted the side of Wes’ face, and he kissed her tiny palm.
“To the crossroad?”
One road leading to Castle Hythe, one leading toward Folkestone. A good long run from their current position. Wes nodded in agreement. “Very well.”
“Are you ready?” Gray called.
“Just try to keep up, brother,” Wes goaded. “I’d hate for you to be thoroughly embarrassed.”
Gray ignored the remark and began to count down. “Three… Two… One… Go.”
With a flick of his wrist, Wes sent his bay bolting forward past Gray’s curricle. Honestly, this wouldn’t even be a contest. His phaeton was much lighter and faster than his brother’s clunky conveyance, but since the race had been Gray’s suggestion, Wes couldn’t even feel guilty about his predestined win.
The late summer wind rustled Wes’ hair, and on his lap, Lia clapped and laughed as they sped down the lane. Wes couldn’t help his smile as he yelled over his shoulder. “You are falling behind, Grayson!”
“The race isn’t over, you arrogant arse!” Gray called back.
Though it might as well be. Wes laughed as he and Lia pulled farther and farther ahead of his brother’s curricle. “Uncle Gray really should watch his language, Lia,” he murmured to the little girl. “I can’t imagine your mother would be happy with his choice of words. Perhaps you should repeat it so she’ll have to ask where you heard it.” He chuckled beneath his breath. The sun felt warm on his face, and Wes clutched his niece closer and kissed the top of her head. “When you come to London, love, I’ll take you ’round like this in Hyde Park.”
Just as he approached the first of two curves along the path, Wes pulled back slightly on the reins so his bay would take the turn a bit slower. Still they were going fast, and he and Lia slid toward the edge of the bench. Wes loosened his grip on the reins, letting his gelding fly over the flat Kent road.
He glanced over his shoulder, making certain Gray had successfully navigated the curve, and found his brother barreling toward him. It was time to urge his bay even faster.
In his lap, Lia gasped. Wes glanced back at the road and his heart stopped. A milkmaid stood in the middle of the lane, looking just as horrified as Wes felt. He pulled back on the reins for all he was worth, but his phaeton was going too fast to stop. So he directed his horse to the left, making a sharp turn instead. Everything else was a blur.
He and Lia flew through the air when the phaeton flipped. He struggled to keep a grasp on his niece, holding her tightly to his chest and wrapping her protectively in his arms. He took the brunt of the fall on his back, which hurt like the devil.
The air was knocked from Wes’ lungs, and he couldn’t catch his breath. A harsh cry met his ears from the bundle safely wrapped within his arms. Oh, God. Lia. He loosened his grip on her and looked down. Her pretty blue eyes were filled with tears, and she could barely catch her breath. He lifted her and looked her over, straightening her legs and arms, checking her for bruises. He riffled through her hair, which had escaped its tidy upsweep and hung in wild abandon around her face. She was fine. Scared, but fine. He brushed the tears from her cheeks.
Thank God, Lia was all right. She w
ouldn’t heal the way he could, the way he would heal eventually. Damn his back pulsed with pain.
And then Gray appeared, leaning over him and scowling. “You’re supposed to keep your bloody eyes on the road, Weston!” His brother scooped Lia up in his arms and began his own search for cuts or scrapes.
“She’s all right. I took all the damage,” Wes managed to choke out.
Gray’s dark gaze focused on him again. “You nearly got yourself killed, you mean.”
“Sorry I didn’t succeed?” He tried to push up on his elbows, but his back still hurt too badly to move.
His brother handed Lia off to the milkmaid Wes had somehow managed to avoid flattening. “See her to my curricle and watch the pair of them!”
“Of course, sir,” the young woman muttered, before disappearing from Wes’ view.
“What the devil was she doing standing in the middle of the road?”
“She was walking, which you would have known if you were paying attention.” Gray loomed over Wes again. “Why are you just lying there?” He glanced up at the sky and then back down at Wes. “Cloud gazing, are you?”
“My back is killing me.”
“Such a baby,” Gray grumbled as he knelt beside Wes, but then his face momentarily softened. “We can’t heal from death, you know. If you’d snapped your neck, you’d be gone right now.”
The sincerity in Gray’s voice was not something Wes was accustomed to hearing from his twin, which was more than a little disconcerting. So he tried to lighten the mood. “You don’t want me to leave you with only Archer for company?”
“Sit up,” Gray ordered. “Let’s see how bad off you are.”
Grunting and wincing, Wes pushed up on his elbows once again. He couldn’t hurt any more if he’d been cut into ribbons.
Gray held his shoulder and glanced at Wes’ back. “You have quite a bit of dirt and road lodged in there. You won’t heal ’til we can get you cleaned up. Can you walk back to my curricle? Or do you need me to carry you?”
Wes scoffed. The day he needed Gray to carry him, he truly would be dead. “I’ll be fine.” He struggled to his feet, squeezed his eyes shut tightly from the pain, and then he limped across the patch of meadow toward his brother’s curricle. His heart sank when he saw the mangled mess of what had been his new phaeton lying a few feet from the road. One of the wheels was actually broken in two.