by Jaimey Grant
“Yes, of course.” He led them up the wide stone steps to the front doors, which were standing open with Keeley, the aging butler, wringing his hands in obvious agitation.
The earl’s brow furrowed. “Keeley, whatever has you in such a pother?” he asked with all the informality of one who’d had many of the same servants since birth.
“Oh, Master Gideon, I am that upset, I am,” the family retainer uttered in a distressed whisper. “Her ladyship, your good and kind mother, has ordered that certain rooms be made up for your guests and I cannot bring myself to do so. It would be the height of rudeness and I know it would displease you immensely. But I cannot simply tell my mistress that I will do no such thing, my lord, I cannot. I like to think I am far better trained than that.”
“Indeed, you are, my good man. And which rooms has my mother deemed worthy of my future wife?”
“The rooms, my lord,” replied the butler in a tone of foreboding.
Gideon frowned. “What was she thinking? She knows how depressing those rooms are. Anyone staying in them would take to their heels within moments of setting foot in them… Ah, I begin to understand.” He turned to Malvina. “It seems my mother’s reception of you might be even chillier than I expected. I apologize in advance.”
Malvina, who heard this entire exchange with mingled astonishment and confusion, did nothing more than nod her acceptance. What else could she do? If she refused to meet his mother it would make for a most uncomfortable two weeks.
Wolf was more inclined to voice his opinion. “Why should she not like Mother?” he demanded.
“It is nothing personal, I assure you,” replied Gideon, neglecting to add more.
A trim little figure of equestrienne superiority erupted into the house. She twirled her shako hat on one finger, her smile of utter delight encompassing all those assembled in the great entry hall.
This was Gideon’s sister, Malvina realized. The way she carried herself would have been indication enough but the rippling scars covering the young lady’s cheek confirmed her identity.
Malvina was intrigued to note the disappearance of the charming smile as the young lady’s eyes lit upon the earl. Indeed, it was as though the light in her had been extinguished. They were suddenly faced with the epitome of a well-bred English lady.
“Hello, Holt. I hope your journey was without mishap?”
Her voice carried a distant note that was not lost upon Malvina and her son. Lady Brackney gave the earl a questioning look that he ignored and she had to pinch Wolf before he said something embarrassing, like mentioning the young girl’s scars.
“Our journey was uneventful, was it not, my dear?” he said in reply to his sister’s question. His brown eyes settled on Malvina, awaiting her agreement.
“Very pleasant,” she murmured.
“Sammy, love, this is my betrothed, Lady Malvina Brackney, and this is her son, Sir Beowulf. My sister, Lady Samantha de Witt.”
Samantha curtsied politely, smiling at his companions in an unselfconscious way that Malvina found curious.
“Where is Mother?” Gideon asked.
Samantha looked up at him. “She has sequestered herself in her apartments, Giddy.”
Malvina’s lips quirked. What an oddly disarming pet name, she thought. It didn’t suit the earl in the least.
His response was unaccustomedly curt. “Why the devil has she done that?”
The girl threw an uncertain look at Malvina, telling that lady succinctly that it was all her fault and Samantha did not want to seem rude by saying it aloud.
“Oh, the old bat doesn’t want us here,” blurted Wolf in a particularly abhorrent display of bad manners. “That’s easily solved. Mama, we will leave.”
“Wolf!” said Gideon and Malvina together, both thoroughly exasperated with him.
“Oh my,” murmured Samantha, her eyes round with wonder as she took in the monstrous splendor that was Sir Beowulf Brackney. “You are something, are you not?”
Wolf seemed unsure how to take her remark. He gave her a rather odd look, frowned, then snapped, “What happened to your face?”
A faint tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks, the rippled scars standing out in stark relief against the unmarred portion of her face. “A mishap,” she replied, giving her brother a quick glance that no one seemed to understand but that particular man.
“You don’t truly want to leave, do you?” she asked suddenly, returning her gaze to the young baronet. “I mean, it is rather lonely being the only young person here and I would really appreciate the company. Do you ride?”
“Of course I do,” he snapped. “Everyone does.”
“Not everyone,” contradicted Lady Samantha. “My mama doesn’t and my governess, Miss Pymm, doesn’t, either. They are both afraid of the horses.”
“But they’re females,” retorted Wolf, as if he had just uttered the most dreadful of insults. “All men ride.”
“Perhaps you can take Wolf out to the stables so he can select a mount to use while he is here,” suggested Gideon.
Wolf reluctantly left with Lady Samantha. Gideon ushered Malvina into a small morning room just off the front hall and closed the door. He turned to her and smiled in a rather self-deprecating fashion. “I realize it is not proper for us to be closeted alone together like this, and if Mother knew, she’d be inconsolable, but I feel the need for private conversation with you.”
“Very well, my lord. What is it you wish to say to me?” She felt cornered and was unsure why.
“I only wish to apologize on behalf of my mother, Malvina. Please don’t take her actions to heart.” His easy smile slipped into place, reassuring her far more than it should have.
“I shan’t,” she replied, allowing the smallest smile in response. She looked away and bit her lip. Then, she asked, “Why did you send Wolf out with your sister? I am afraid he will treat her dreadfully. I do not know where I went wrong with that boy but never have I witnessed such blatant rudeness as he’s displayed since he joined us. I apologize for him, my lord.”
“I imagine it has nothing to do with you or I at all,” he responded. “There is something in that boy, something dark and angry that finds its only outlet in bad manners. That doesn’t mean, of course, that he is necessarily bad, simply…angry. I wonder why.”
“As do I,” murmured Malvina thoughtfully. “He started acting this way just after Brackney died. He lashed out every time his father was even mentioned. It has never been quite this bad before, however.”
Gideon studied her face closely. “I see,” he finally replied, his expression enigmatic. Then, magically, his easy smile returned and he added, “As for my sister, I think you will find that Sammy can hold her own with the fiercest of tempers.”
Days later, Malvina had reason to believe Gideon’s claim that Samantha could indeed hold her own. In fact, the young lady seemed to have wrought a miraculous change in Wolf. He smiled more, treated everyone he came across with respect and courtesy, and was just overall a far more pleasant person to be around.
There was one incident that caused a bit of a setback, however.
A few days after their arrival in Yorkshire, they were granted an audience with Lady Holt. Malvina viewed this meeting as a particularly painful form of torture and to judge by the long faces of Gideon and Wolf, they viewed it the same. The sight of them wearing the same expression would have elicited a grin from Malvina had her own nerves not been bound so tight.
Early in the afternoon, they were ushered into a darkened room. Malvina could just barely make out the very small figure of a woman reclining on a chaise lounge by the fireplace. A blanket was thrown over her knees and a small table next to her was littered with bottles of tonics and packets of powders.
Malvina turned shocked eyes on her betrothed. “Is your mother an invalid, sir?” she whispered.
“No, my dear, she is not,” he responded grimly. Louder, he said, “Mother, how are you this afternoon?”
“Lower your vo
ice, please, Holt,” complained the countess. “My head aches abominably, and you are the cause, you dreadful boy.”
“Thank you, Mother,” he replied dryly. His whole face brightened. “Since you are unwell, Mother, we will go.”
“No, child, I want to get this meeting over with,” she retorted plaintively. “Have you brought the encroaching mushroom? I understand she has a rather unsavory reputation and a horrible son to go with it.”
“Mother,” he said in a warning tone that Malvina had only heard once before. She shivered at the memory.
“Well bring them forward, Holt, do. You will be the death of me yet.”
Gideon leaned closer to Malvina. “I wish I could spare you this ordeal, love, but it will happen someday, you know.”
Malvina had her doubts, but she stayed silent on that score and moved forward with him, her son trailing behind sullenly.
“Mother, I’d like you to meet Lady Malvina and her son Sir Beowulf Brackney.”
The tiny lady glanced up with a look that closely resembled Wolf’s. Malvina smiled warmly and offered her hand. The woman regarded it like a repellent species of insect, sniffed haughtily, and turned her head away in a clear snub.
Gideon released an audible growl of annoyance at his mother’s display of rudeness. He opened his mouth, no doubt to reprimand her, but she spoke first.
“Such dreadful names,” she murmured nastily, “indicate persons of weak character.” Her gaze turned once again to Malvina, who stood in embarrassed silence. “Perhaps even low moral character.”
Wolf’s face darkened ominously. Gideon and Malvina saw it at the same time and both tried valiantly to stop the young man but failed. He took a step closer and leaned down, pushing his face up next to Lady Holt’s.
“Listen to me, you miserable old bat. If you dare to imply that my mother is a whore, I will make you sorry. And believe me when I say that I do not make idle threats.”
His voice carried a deadly menace that Malvina had never heard before and she wondered for the first time if perhaps her son was truly evil.
“Holt, remove this person from my presence,” gasped Lady Holt.
“Wolf, come,” ordered Malvina.
“Not until the bat apologizes,” he insisted stubbornly.
Gideon snapped his fingers and a hovering servant approached, her face carefully blanked of all expression. He whispered a few words to her and she practically ran from the room.
He then returned his attention to the furious baronet. “I agree that my mother’s behavior is disgraceful, Wolf, but I will not tolerate any insult toward her.”
“I don’t care,” Wolf bit out. “Nobody calls my mother a whore.”
“Except you?” asked Malvina softly.
Wolf’s face flushed a bit, and then he looked down at his feet and muttered something no one caught. Looking up, he said more clearly, “I was angry still, Mama. I never really believed you were…you know.”
The door opened, yielding the breathless servant who’d just left, followed by Lady Samantha. She crossed the room with a look of question on her young face. Her gaze settled on Wolf, who gave her a look of surprise.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I am here to prevent a murder, it seems,” she replied, not even the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Tell me what has happened.”
To everyone’s considerable shock, Wolf obeyed. Even Lady Holt remained silent, her face registering her own surprise at the budding friendship between her kind-spirited daughter and the volatile young man.
“It appears, Wolf, that you owe Mother an apology,” concluded Samantha.
“Why is that?” he demanded sharply. “She insulted my mother.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” the girl admonished gently. Her gaze fell on her mother. “Mother, you really oughtn’t have said something so completely dreadful. You do owe Lady Malvina an apology, as well.”
“Not until he apologizes,” she muttered stubbornly.
Wolf rolled his eyes heavenward. “Very well! I apologize for frightening you, Lady Holt, and I most humbly beg your pardon.”
“Well, I don’t accept it,” snapped her ladyship. Her gaze went again to her son. “Throw him out, Holt. I do not want this person in my house.”
“Well, then, Mother, it is a good thing this is not your house,” retorted Gideon, clearly at the end of his patience.
“Oh! How can you speak to me like that?” she said, beginning to sob. “If your father were alive he’d take a whip to you for your impertinence.”
“Mother,” inserted Samantha with perfect calm, “you know very well Father would have done no such thing.” She shot a glance at her brother, rife with meaning.
“He would,” Lady Holt insisted.
Samantha crouched beside her mother, lowering her voice though it still carried to Malvina’s ears. “He did once, but you know why that happened.”
“Yes, dear, your poor face,” the countess murmured, sniffing back tears. “You would have done so well in London, too. Such a shame.”
Gideon tensed. All along his arm, where Malvina’s hand had rested comfortably, his muscles hardened until it felt like she was grasping a stone. She stared up at him, dimly aware that her son stared as well.
They were thinking the same thing. How was Samantha’s mishap Gideon’s fault?
Watching the internal struggle manifest itself in his brown eyes, Malvina was not surprised when his customary lazy grin appeared.
“Shall we allow Mother to rest?”
Dinner that evening was conducted with the utmost formality, a circumstance Malvina found tedious and dull. Lady Samantha and Wolf kept up a steady flow of conversation while Lady Holt stared moodily at her plate. Gideon wasn’t even present and Malvina wondered why the countess had felt it necessary to venture from the seclusion of her chambers to join them.
Dinner finally ended and Malvina was inordinately relieved when the countess stated that she was too fatigued to join them in the drawing room.
Wolf followed the ladies as he had no desire to sit over a glass of port by himself and he had not yet taken up the habit of smoking. They made no demure when he apprised them of this and seemed to welcome him wholeheartedly to join them in the drawing room.
Samantha offered to entertain them on the piano. Malvina was absolutely delighted as she had no talent herself for the instrument but loved to hear it played. Wolf gallantly offered to turn the pages for her.
“That it not necessary, Wolf,” she replied. “I do not use music sheets, merely playing from memory.” At the fallen expression on the young baronet’s face, she relented somewhat. “I would love it, however, if you would sit here, as a sort of…support.”
Wolf eagerly agreed and Malvina had a feeling he was forming a tendre for the beautiful Lady Samantha despite her physical deformities.
To their considerable surprise, she launched into an intricate sonata by the composer Scarlatti. Her fingers fairly flew across the keys and she never made a mistake. Wolf sat in dumbfounded silence, as did his mother, until the girl finished. She blushed at their open mouthed expressions. They broke into praise at the same time and she blushed again, making her scars stand out alarmingly.
Malvina requested another song and Samantha played a more subdued Mozart concerto. They were at ease and enjoying the music when Malvina felt another presence in the room. She looked toward the door to see Gideon standing there, his face unreadable. Their eyes met and he gave her a warm smile, one that made her insides feel like a jelly.
Samantha finished with a flourish, her hands poised above the keys. She hit the final chords and eased the tension in her body.
Steady clapping came from the door and the young people on the piano bench turned as one to look. Gideon strode into the room and lowered his tall form into the seat next to Malvina. She stared at him in wonder, noting the rather careworn look that had come to reside on his handsome face since their arrival in Yorkshire. His brown
eyes seemed infinitely tired and his mouth tended to droop at the corners. He was not happy to be home. Tension surrounded him like a cloak, keeping everyone else at a distance.
Simply the cares of managing an estate?
Samantha gave her brother a long, blank look. Then, she returned her attention to the ivory keys in front of her and started playing again. This time the song was melancholy with a deeply haunting melody that tore at one’s soul. Malvina did not recognize the composer. It was unlike any of the composers with whom she was familiar, but then, her knowledge of music was somewhat limited.
Samantha finished on a low note. Malvina clapped, saying, “That was lovely! Who is the composer?” She released an embarrassed laugh and admitted, “My knowledge of music does not compare to yours, I fear.”
Samantha didn’t answer. She gave her brother a steady look, one that lasted so long Malvina began to wonder if anyone would answer.
A moment later, Gideon informed them flatly, “It was composed by someone of no account whatsoever.”
Samantha gave Gideon a look of complete disgust before turning her attention back to the piano. She pounded out Mozart’s eleventh sonata with great verve, slamming the keys so hard at the end that the entire house seemed to vibrate with the crashing of the instrument. Malvina stared at the girl in concern, for surely this was unusual behavior? She glance at Gideon, wondering why he did not put a stop to Samantha’s abuse of the piano and was surprised by the banked anger burning in his eyes. His lips smiled grimly and he clenched his hands in his lap. What transpired here?
“Very good, Sam,” remarked Gideon. The biting sarcasm in his tone was not lost upon anybody. “Perhaps your next amazing feat can be tuning the piano.”
Samantha turned fully around on the piano bench to glare at him. “Oh, stubble it, Giddy, do!” Her fingers gripped the edge of the bench, white knuckles attesting to her upset. “You always come home, feeling sorry for yourself. Why is your life so distressing? Did the government ask you again to kill your friend?”
She stood and took a deep, calming breath, smoothing her hands over her pale skirts. Moving to stand next to her brother, she looked down at him. When she spoke, her voice was just barely above a whisper.