by Gordon, Rose
He’d never thought of that as an excuse before. “You will, too. You’ll be a baroness.”
“I don’t even know how a baroness should behave,” she burst out, her voice uneven and three pitches higher than usual.
He squeezed her hand to reassure her. “My mother and Isabelle can help you.”
Lucy shook her head. “I don’t think I can be your baroness.”
“Then, don’t,” he countered, dropping a kiss on her lips. “Just be my wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The wedding could not come soon enough for Giles’ liking. Until it did, he’d have to settle for making up excuses to go see Lucy at the library and sneak kisses from her whenever possible. Someone—most likely his mother—had informed her that young ladies who are soon to be a baroness shouldn’t go to a gentleman’s lodgings. Not even with a chaperone. And not even to collect her child.
She’d also been advised to stop working in the library. Fortunately for Giles she hadn’t heeded that advice completely. She only “helped”, without wages so it wasn’t considered work.
He drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk and mentally counted the days until the wedding. Ten. He’d survive that, wouldn’t he?
“My lord, Mr. Appleton is here to see you.”
Giles’ skin prickled. Which Mr. Appleton had come to see him? Surely it wouldn’t actually be Simon.
It wasn’t.
Mr. Walter Appleton came in and removed his grey felt hat before taking a seat opposite Giles. “Forgive me for not coming by sooner to offer my felicitations. I thought you might be occupied and wanted to come back when I had news on the other matter.”
Right, the other matter. “Do you?”
“Of course.” He straightened the cuff on his brown coat then bent to retrieve a slim stack of documents from his satchel.
“And?” Giles burst out when it would appear Mr. Appleton wasn’t on the verge of speaking.
“There’s a way you can regain control of the barony and have access to the trust,” Mr. Appleton said.
“The trust for my heir?” Giles asked for clarification.
Mr. Appleton nodded.
Giles wouldn’t tell the man this because it was quite clear he’d spent a lot of his time and resources to pursue this, but he was a little disappointed this was all Mr. Appleton wanted to speak to him about. “I won’t need it, will I?”
“No. You certainly will not be lacking in funds. But don’t you want it?”
Giles blinked. “No. Why would I?”
“Because it was unjustly denied to you.”
Unjustly? He didn’t think so. His father could do with his money as he wished, couldn’t he? Frankly, he was relieved that the man had seen fit to allow Giles to inherit his assets and their earnings after his twentieth birthday. He didn’t need the trust. “That’s all right, I don’t need it.”
“No, it’s not all right,” Mr. Appleton snapped. He covered his face with his hands, then exhaled and dropped his hands back to his lap. “Giles, this is yours. You deserve it.”
“No, I don’t. He wanted the funds and rule of the barony to go to my heir and it will.”
“Yes, but will it be your legacy to pass to your heir...or his?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Mr. Appleton lifted his right hand to his forehead and idly rubbed the bridge of his nose. “As it stands now, you are just a baron in name. None of the responsibility of it is yours. You’re a symbol, if you will. The same goes for the trust. Both will pass to your son as if it were left to him by your father. Not you. If the responsibility and trust is yours, you can be the one to pass it to your son.”
Giles wasn’t sure he understood the difference.
“Simon isn’t my only son,” Mr. Appleton said quietly. “I have one other, but he... Well, he doesn’t bear my name and will not inherit my legacy—but the stingy leavings from another man. Don’t misunderstand, I was blessed that I have Simon to carry on my name and inherit. But sometimes I feel cheated that it isn’t my eldest son who will inherit my business and modest fortune. I don’t want you to face the same heartbreak.”
Giles could understand that. He did want to be the one to pass down his title and money to his son. Not just act as a formality between the two. “What do I need to do?”
“Prove to the court that you are of a sound mind,” Mr. Appleton said as if he were discussing the weather.
Giles, however, didn’t take his statement so lightly. “That’s impossible.”
Mr. Appleton lifted his right foot and rested it on his left knee. “Can I ask for an indulgence?”
“For?”
“I’m about to speak very bluntly about your mother and your father.”
Giles nodded, not sure what to make of the way he’d spoken his last word.
“I think your plight had less to do with your life’s cord being wrapped around your neck and more to do with a way to punish your mother.”
“Because she loved you?”
“And you.” Mr. Appleton lowered his voice the way Sebastian often did when he was about to say something that Giles might not like to hear. “I never knew you as a boy since you were confined to the country, but when your mother was allowed to come to town—” he coughed— “well, she’d talk about you.
“For a long time, she fretted that you’d never talk or be able to obey simple commands. She feared leaving you alone with anyone and would plead for Norcourt to take her back to Dolsey. He’d relent, but with stipulations.” His expression darkened. “He didn’t think she’d provided him with a suitable heir and insisted she give him another. But she couldn’t.” He grew quiet for a moment. “She tried for several years, and wasn’t able to conceive.
“When you got a little older, about four or five, things changed. He still wanted another son, of course, but when he’d bring her to London, instead of being uneasy and forlorn, she was full of the same excitement she’d had before she’d married.” A faint smile touched his lips. “She was excited about you. When we’d dance at a ball, she’d only speak of you and whatever things you’d begun doing or found of interest.” He guffawed. “She even detailed the slimy coating of a slug for me. I loved seeing her like that.
“It didn’t last, though. I didn’t see her again for two Seasons and when I did that sparkle in her eye was gone again. I heard a rumor at my club that Norcourt was on the verge of petitioning her for a parliamentary divorce on the grounds of adultery and a list of other claims that would leave you both pariahs. I couldn’t see that happen to her and I convinced her to let me help her meet his demands.”
“Why?”
“Why did I try to help her give him another son?”
“Yes.” It was the oddest thing he’d ever heard.
“Because I loved her.” White lines formed around the edges of Mr. Appleton’s mouth as if he wanted to say more, but couldn’t.
Giles wasn’t sure what to make of that or of Mr. Appleton for his role. What would have become of Giles had the old baron not died? Was being sent away and unable to inherit what was lawfully his the better fate?
“I didn’t know my interference would result in so much harm to either of you or I might have convinced her to let him divorce her.” Mr. Appleton’s whispered confession hit Giles squarely in the heart. “We both agreed when he died to marry immediately. It didn’t mean everything would be fair to you, but far fairer than it might have been if she’d delivered Simon as Norcourt’s unmarried widow.”
“Fairer,” Giles repeated in disbelief. “To me?”
“Yes,” Mr. Appleton said softly. “I know that it doesn’t seem very fair at all. But, please understand, the alternative would have been far less favorable for you.”
“Being treated as an orphan is fair?” Giles tried to reason.
“No, but living as an orphan under the protection of a title you might one day inherit is far better than being publicly branded mentally unfit and cast aside to allow y
our brother to inherit what was rightfully yours.” Mr. Appleton rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Had Norcourt lived or had your mother delivered Simon as his widow, Lord Norcourt had everything arranged that would leave you disinherited. That’s why we married so soon.”
“But the orphanage,” Giles persisted. Not that it mattered it was already done. Nothing could change it now.
“Perhaps she’d be the one better to explain that.”
Giles shook his head adamantly. “No. You.”
Mr. Appleton looked him over as if he were trying to decide if he should tell Giles what he knew or not. Giles hoped he would. He wanted to know now, not wait for his mother to decide it was time.
“Your mother only spoke to me about it once,” Mr. Appleton began slowly. “Right after you were sent away, she was informed you were not to come back until you were of an age to inherit—and only then if she didn’t produce a capable son. If she called you back before then, he’d petition for divorce on the grounds of adultery and have her banished.”
“Just her?”
Mr. Appleton nodded. “Just her. I don’t know what he planned to do with you since claiming you were a bastard might also bring questions about Simon’s legitimacy, but somehow he threatened to make sure she’d never see either of you again.”
“And she chose Simon,” Giles said somewhat bitterly. Not that he could blame her necessarily. Simon was a son who could make any mother proud. Giles was not.
“No, she chose you both,” Mr. Appleton contradicted. “It was just the only way she could have you both. She might not have been able to be there for you as a boy, but she can now.” He swallowed. “That might not have been possible had she not abided by his rules.”
“But after he died. Why not then?”
“She was scared. She tried once after his death, but was notified by the orphanage that only Lord Norcourt could order you released. When she tried to petition the courts, Lord Cosgrove warned her to stop and gave her the same warning Norcourt had that if she didn’t heed his warning, he’d be forced to uphold Norcourt’s former plan and have you disinherited.” He puffed up his cheeks and blew out a deep breath. “Perhaps it was the wrong choice. I don’t know. But neither do I know by which means Lord Norcourt would have ordered for you to be disinherited. Proving bastardy or mental unsoundness might have been difficult and I don’t doubt—” his voice hitched— “he might have sought other means if necessary. Nor did your mother, or I, wish to find out.”
Giles sat still for a few minutes, his mind trying to make sense of everything he’d been told. He didn’t know the legalities of many things. Nor did he fully understand Appleton’s connection with his mother. But he understood enough. They’d married so quickly following the old baron’s death so there couldn’t be a way for Simon to usurp him as baron. He understood that though he wasn’t sure whether that was actually a good thing or not. Simon would have made a better baron. He understood things the first time they were said and didn’t get frustrated with his own inabilities to put into words what he wanted to say. But what of the rest? Did Mr. Appleton mean that Giles had been left there at the orphanage as a means of protection? He shivered at the thought.
“Giles, did you hear me?”
“Er…no.”
“I said, you were done a great injustice by being sent away and having this trust and the privilege of running your barony tied up out of your grasp. I know that, and I even accept responsibility for it, but you don’t have to continue to live with it. You just need to do something about it.”
“Don’t you understand that I can’t?”
“No, I don’t understand that. What is it you cannot do?”
“Think.”
“Everyone thinks, Giles. Try again.”
He clenched his jaw. “Speak.”
“Another ability I think you have a firm grasp of. Why, you’ve been arguing rather well with me for about the past hour or so.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed the man to leave. He opened them. No such luck.
“Are you worried they’ll ask you an academic question?”
No, he was worried about being asked any question. Alone, in his home, where everything around him was familiar and tranquil, he wasn’t so distracted or overwhelmed. Everywhere else he was reduced to a bumbling fool who either couldn’t speak or said the wrong thing.
“Your lack of formal schooling will not be a strike against you,” Mr. Appleton said softly. “They just want to know that you’re of sound mind and are not in need of being locked away at an asylum.”
“An asylum?” Giles choked. He knew he was considered odd and a little simple. But he’d never thought that would make him a candidate for Bedlam.
“Giles, that’s my point. You won’t be denied. You just need to go answer their questions so they can determine you’re of sound mind and should have access to your trust.”
“No.” Giles stared down at his broken quill. “There is no need. I’m not a smart man, Mr. Appleton. They’ll never agree that I’m competent enough to let me run the barony.”
“Who said that?”
“Nobody had to say it, I just know.”
“You seem to know a lot for not being very smart,” Mr. Appleton’s tone was hard to place.
Giles forced a stiff shrug. “It doesn’t take a smart man to know that.”
“There’s more than one way to be intelligent.”
“Sir, I drove Sister Catherine to smuggle the communion wine. Said she needed it after spending a day trying to get me to understand sums—and not because she felt like a saint and was in need of an extra blessing.”
Mr. Appleton’s laughter echoed through the room. “Have trouble understanding what to do with that extra one?”
Giles felt his eyes widen in surprise. “How did you know?”
“I had the same problem as a boy. I think Simon may have, too.” His face went still almost as if he were afraid of what he’d revealed. Giles didn’t know why he’d be afraid of admitting that Simon wasn’t perfect at anything. Mayhap Simon would be upset if Giles knew of his imperfection.
“I won’t tell him,” Giles offered. That wasn’t a hard promise to keep since Simon’s interest in talking to him rivaled his interest in speaking to Simon.
Mr. Appleton pressed his lips together. “Right. As for the matter at hand, whether you marry or not, I think you should petition the court to acknowledge you are of sound and able mind.”
“No.” Giles wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. “They’ll mock me.”
“Who?”
“Everyone,” he burst out, banging his open palm on the smooth surface of his desk.
“I won’t. And neither will anyone else.”
“Yes, they will. They always do.” Giles released a harsh laugh. “I still don’t know what to do with that extra one.”
“You add it to the next column on the left,” Mr. Appleton said quietly. “Or rather, your trusted estate manager does.” He dropped his booted foot back to the floor with an indelicate tap. “You don’t have to decide today what you want to do. I’m just asking that you give it some thought.”
“Why is it that you care so much?”
“As I said, I know what it’s like to live my life knowing that my eldest won’t inherit my legacy, but rather one that was given to him by someone else.”
Something about how he said those words gave Giles a chill. “How long do I have before I have to let you know?”
“Until my death, I suppose,” Mr. Appleton said, tucking the papers back into his satchel. “It won’t be too late then, of course, but you’ll have to ask Simon to help, though.”
Giles shuddered. “I’ll be sure to decide something before then.”
“Very well.” Mr. Appleton stood and plucked his satchel from the floor. “I look forward to seeing you at the wedding, but just so you know, you’re welcome to come over to have dinner any time you’d like.”
That wasn’t likely to happen. It had b
een uncomfortable before; he couldn’t imagine Simon’s reaction to him now. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Mr. Appleton said, putting his hat on his head. “Come over and have a drink with me.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ten Days Later
Lucy could hardly believe she was actually walking down the aisle to her waiting bridegroom. Fortunately it was a short walk across his mother’s drawing room or her knees might have buckled beneath her at the way Giles grinned at her from the moment she entered the room. Actually, that wasn’t true. If her knees were to buckle, Seth was right there to help hold her up. For he’d insisted she needed an escort down the aisle and there was no one else she’d rather it be but him.
Next to Giles who was cloaked in blue and gold stood Sebastian dressed in various shades of red. In the spot where the bride’s attendant was to stand stood Isabelle. When Lucy had admitted she didn’t have anyone to ask to be her attendant, save perhaps Giles’ mother, Giles had suggested Isabelle. Though she and Isabelle weren’t close, Lucy agreed it’d make the most sense to ask her and was somewhat relieved when Giles volunteered to be the one to talk to them both about standing up with them. Lucy should have done it, she knew, but Giles was more their friend than she was. Isabelle had graciously accepted and now she was at their wedding with a slightly uneasy expression, beautiful but uneasy. Like her husband, she was dressed in red. A beautiful ruby-colored gown with a gold and silver embroidery pattern on the bodice and gold edging around the sleeves that matched the most beautiful gold flounces at the bottom of her skirts.
For her part, Lucy had worn a silver gown that Mrs. Appleton had helped her choose from a fashion plate. The fabric shone in the light and made a soft whispering rustle every time she moved. The gown itself was plain, devoid of embellished embroidering or yards of lace. Its elegance came in the cut. High on the waist, full, billowing skirts, high capped sleeves and a rounded bodice that gave an onlooker a generous view of the top of her bosoms. Of course that would not do during a wedding (only after it, when alone with the groom), and she’d elected to wear a crushed velvet shawl over top that was a near perfect match to the color of Giles’ emerald eyes.