‘First, there are things I must tell you. About my brother.’ He stiffened and she went on quickly, ‘I have thought a great deal about what you said of your sister’s seduction. I told you I could not believe Randolph capable of such villainy. This was not merely because I did not want to think my brother could act in such a way.’ She twisted her hands together in her lap. ‘Yes, Randolph was living in Duke Street when your sister was at school in that nearby village, but he was not well. And, whatever else he may have done, I know he could not have killed your brother. You see, I fetched him away from Duke Street last summer, to live with me at Fallbridge. For several weeks prior to that he had not left the house. And if he did not fight a duel, then neither do I think he seduced your sister.’
She glanced at him and a faint colour washed her cheeks.
‘You look sceptical, my lord. Perhaps you think I would lie to protect my brother, but there is more you do not know. My brother has an addictive nature: gambling, drink. Laudanum.’
He interrupted her. ‘You are mistaken. Miss Meltham. I had already realised that.’
Her small hand fluttered, as if to deflect a blow.
She said quietly, ‘Ran was just eighteen when our father died. We were placed in the guardianship of an uncle, who paid very little heed to us. Our mother was ill, so I remained at Fallbridge to look after her and Ran joined us whenever he came down from Oxford for the vacation. When Ran attained his majority and control of his fortune he opened up the family house in Liverpool. He refused my suggestion that I should keep house for him and insisted I remain at Fallbridge. I knew he had been a little wild at Oxford, but I did not think it was anything more than the high spirits of most young men and, although I worried about how he was living in Liverpool, I did not then know the extent of his addictions. Whenever I saw him he was always on his best behaviour. Only later did I realise this was because I always gave him notice of my visits.
‘Then, in the spring of last year I arrived and found him bedridden. It was then that I learned the truth from Ran’s valet, who is devoted to his master. I discovered that he had so-called friends who encouraged him in all his vices. I wanted Ran to quit Liverpool then, but he would not do so, despite my pleading. I was sure his acquaintances were encouraging him in his dissolute ways, but nothing I could say would persuade him to drop them. But I did not give up. I fetched our own doctor to tend him and I made more frequent visits to Liverpool. However, it was not until May that Randolph could be persuaded to come home with me to Fallbridge.’ She paused, raising her eyes to look at him. ‘He was by then very ill, unable to hold a pistol, let alone fire one. Whatever else he has done, my lord, I am convinced he did not kill your brother.’
Gil knew she was waiting for a response but he said nothing. The proof he had collected told a different story, but he would not contradict her. Not yet. With a tiny nod she looked down at her hands again.
‘I nursed him back to health and he promised me he would give up his errant ways, which he has always assured me hurt no one but himself.’
‘And you, madam.’
She gave a twisted little smile.
‘Yes. And me. I have always believed that Ran would not deliberately cause anyone harm, but your accusations made me wonder.’ Another pause. Gil realised how difficult it was for her to tell him this, to reveal so much about her beloved brother. ‘Earlier this week I called upon Dr Reedley. He has known Randolph since he was a child and after I discovered the true state of Ran’s health he came with me to Liverpool on several occasions, so he is well acquainted with my brother’s illness. I asked him about the possibility of—’
She broke off. Gil watched her take another breath to steady herself, then she raised her head and met his eyes.
‘In the doctor’s opinion, Ran was so riddled with strong drink and laudanum last year that he would not have been capable of organising an elopement and he was certainly not able to father a child.’
‘But you cannot be sure of that,’ he threw back at her. ‘You were not living with him on a daily basis when this courtship took place. You cannot know with any certainty how incapacitated he might have been. Do you not think I did not ask these questions of my own doctor, once I realised the extent of your brother’s dissipation?’
Her chin went up. ‘You are right, of course, I cannot be certain, but you will allow me to know something of my own brother, my lord!’
Gil frowned.
‘Are you asking me to believe that someone impersonated your brother, Miss Meltham? That some scoundrel was brazen enough to perpetrate these acts in his name?’
‘Yes,’ she said, her gaze steady and unflinching. ‘Yes, I am.’
* * *
Gil pushed himself out of his chair and went over to the window, staring out, but not seeing the pleasant vista it offered. He wanted to believe her, but he could not. Confound it, did she think he had entered lightly into his plan for revenge? He had made exhaustive enquiries and there had been more than enough evidence to convince him that Kirkster had seduced his sister and killed his brother.
‘Your silence tells me you think I am saying this merely to protect Randolph.’ Her voice was low and not quite steady and Gil felt a flash of something that might well have been envy.
‘I know how fond you are of your brother, madam. Would you deny that you would do anything to protect him?’
‘I am not blind to his faults. He is not immune to female charms and he might flirt with a pretty woman, but I do not think him so dissolute that he would seduce an innocent maid. And he has been so ill these past two years that I do not believe he was capable of a sustained courtship.’ She leaned forward, saying earnestly, ‘I was present when Sir Sydney disclosed your identity to Randolph. He showed no sign of recognition. He could not have been so unconcerned, had he been acquainted with your sister.’
Gil shook his head impatiently. ‘You do not need to justify your brother’s actions to me. It makes no odds now. I have put the past behind me and no longer seek revenge for the wrongs done to my family. No, madam, if you need help, my offer is unconditional.’ He added in a low voice, ‘It is the least I can do, after—’
She jumped up. ‘This has nothing to do with what happened between us,’ she said coldly. ‘I do not ask your help as some sort of, of atonement for what you did to me.’ She turned away from him. ‘I am perfectly willing to take my share of responsibility for what occurred.’
Gil saw her hand go to her cheek, as if to brush away a stray tear. He clenched his fists, keeping his arms at his sides as he waited for her to compose herself and speak again.
‘I came here because I know of no one else who can help me. Who can help Ran. I believe—I am sure—my brother is in the power of someone who has embroiled him in a dangerous scheme. I dare not go to the magistrate because I am very much afraid that Ran would be arrested as a felon.’
‘And you think this someone is also responsible for my sister’s seduction?’
‘Yes. I thought knowing that might make you more inclined to help me. I thought you might want him arrested and tried for his crimes. All I ask is that you spare my brother and let him go free. If that is possible.’
* * *
Deb clasped her hands together, the knuckles gleaming white as the silence continued. Only the direst necessity had brought her to Gilmorton Hall. For herself, she would rather suffer any fate than debase herself before this man. But she was doing this for Randolph. Gil’s note had said he would help her, but his lack of response now showed otherwise. It was a lie, a sham, like all the rest. And now by her confession she had quite possibly earned Gil’s contempt as well as placed Ran in even more danger.
‘I should not have come,’ she muttered, hurrying towards the door. ‘It was foolish of me to think—’
‘No.’ Even as she grasped the handle he was behind her, catching at
her shoulders. ‘Stay,’ he said gently. ‘Stay and tell me everything.’
She froze, her body refusing to shake off his hands. Her spine tingled, he was standing so close she could even smell him, the enticing mixture of spices and leather that she remembered so vividly. But now there was something else, the fresh clean scent of lemons. It filled her head, making her dizzy and momentarily blocking all coherent thought.
‘Come.’ He turned her away from the door. ‘Sit down and talk to me. I will help you if I can.’
Deb allowed him to take her back to the sofa and push her down upon the richly brocaded seat. He drew a chair close and sat down facing her.
‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Tell me who you think would be villain enough to entangle your brother in criminal schemes and use his name to cover his mischief?’
‘You are acquainted with him. Sir Sydney Warslow. He was a frequent guest at my brother’s house in Duke Street and the main reason I did not take up residence there when I discovered how ill Ran was. I knew I would have to take Ran away to Fallbridge. I thought there he would be safe from Sir Sydney, but it seems I was wrong. He is an evil man and he is destroying my brother, my lord, encouraging him to drink to excess and providing him with the laudanum he craves. I think he is more than capable of using my brother’s name for his own ends.’
She glanced up. Gil was frowning, his gaze abstracted.
‘I agree with you,’ he said at last. ‘Warslow is a cunning devil and the sort of coward who would hide behind another’s name. He is also a crack shot and would not cavil at taking up a challenge from a mere boy. He has a reputation for killing his man.
‘He was a soldier when I met him,’ he went on, reading the question in her eyes. ‘Warslow was a scoundrel then and it was no loss to the army when he inherited the baronetcy a few years ago and sold out.’ He said abruptly, ‘Is he still a guest in your house?’
‘My brother’s house,’ she corrected him. ‘Yes, he is still there. I have begged Ran to dismiss him, but he refuses to do so. Or rather, he says he cannot do so. I believe Sir Sydney has some sort of hold over him.’ She shivered and crossed her arms, as if she could in some way defend herself from her own thoughts. ‘I am terribly afraid that Sir Sydney Warslow is dragging my brother to hell with him. He has persuaded Ran to take a house in London, for what purpose I do not know, but it cannot be for Randolph’s benefit.’
Gil sat back and considered her words carefully. He had promised Mama he would not seek vengeance, but this was different. Deborah might suspect Warslow of seducing Kitty and killing Robin, but there was no proof and there was no denying that Deb would want to believe that. However, it was highly likely that Warslow was involved in something illegal and, if he could bring the fellow to justice and help Deborah in the process, then it might go some way to restoring his honour.
‘Just what do you suspect?’ When she hesitated, he added, ‘Whatever you tell me will not go any further. You have my word.’ It pained him that she looked so unsure and he said more roughly than he intended, ‘If you want my help, madam, you will have to trust me.’
She blinked, those great green eyes reminding him of a wounded animal, and he realised then how desperate she must have been to come to him. He waited with as much patience as he could muster until she was ready to speak again and, when she did, he marvelled at how well she had collected herself.
‘It was something my brother said, about Liverpool becoming unsafe for Warslow. That is how I managed to persuade Ran to come back to Fallbridge with me, because Sir Sydney was no longer in town. You can imagine my dismay when he turned up in Fallbridge. And then, the day after his arrival, I was told that a bad two-pound note had been discovered in the housekeeper’s cashbox. It was a very good likeness and would easily have been missed without careful scrutiny, but when I looked into it, I learned that Sir Sydney’s man had given Mrs Woodrow just such a note in exchange for coin to pay the postilions.’ She shrugged. ‘I have no proof, because there were other notes in the box, so it might have come from elsewhere, but Ran was very angry when I told him and I came upon him discussing it with Sir Sydney, and saying he would not have it—’ She broke off, twisting her hands together. ‘I am not privy to my brother’s finances, but it has seemed to me over the past few years that his spending has been more lavish than the estate can afford. I believe there is very little of his fortune left. If, if he has turned to counterfeiting to pay his way…the punishment for such a crime is severe.’
‘It is indeed, but I can well imagine Warslow might be mixed up in such a thing,’ said Gil, considering everything she had told him. After a few moments’ thought he nodded. ‘Very well, I will make enquiries, but it may take weeks. In the meantime, it would be safer if you did not accompany your brother to London.’
‘I have no choice. I must stay with my brother, to protect him.’
‘But who is to protect you?’
Not you, said her look, more eloquently than any words.
She gave a little start when the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour and her lashes came down, screening her thoughts from him. She rose from the chair.
‘While Sir Sydney has need of my brother he will not risk offending him by hurting me. Now, I must go.’
He made no attempt to detain her. She collected her hat and cloak and he accompanied her out to the waiting chaise.
‘When do you leave for town?’ he asked as he handed her into the carriage.
‘At the end of the week. I do not know where we will be living. My brother tells me Sir Sydney has arranged it all.’
The idea of her being in Warslow’s power chilled Gil. He did not like it one bit, but he knew that any protest would bring from Deborah a curt reminder that he had no right to dictate to her, so he merely nodded.
‘Send word as soon as you know your direction, Miss Meltham. A message to Gilmorton Hall will find me, wherever I may be.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’
She was in the carriage, but still clinging to his hand. For a heartbeat her clear green eyes stared into his without fear, without enmity, then the dark lashes swept down, gently she withdrew her fingers and sat back on the seat. Gil stepped away, the servant closed the door and the coachman whipped up his team.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Deborah pressed her back against the squabs of the carriage and closed her eyes. It was an effort not to lean forward and peer out of the window, to see if Gil was still standing on the drive. It should not matter to her, after the way he had deceived her she was determined he would not hurt her again, but just seeing him had brought everything back with painful clarity. How they had talked together, laughed together. Lain together. How he had made her feel beautiful. Her insides liquefied just at the thought of his lips on her skin and it was useless to tell herself it had all been a lie. Whatever Gil’s reasons for taking her to his bed, whether it had been for revenge or out of sympathy, he had made her feel more alive than ever before and the memory of the happy weeks they had shared provided a stark contrast to the living nightmare of her current situation.
Having shut her heart against Gil, all Deb’s concern now was for her brother. He was the reason she had to come here today to beg for help. She felt exhausted, drained with the struggle to keep all her emotions in check, but it had been worth it, because Gil had agreed to help her. She believed him. With every fibre of her being she believed that Gil would do his utmost to save Randolph.
And Randolph was now her sole reason for living.
* * *
A week later, Deborah and her brother arrived in London, where the late spring weather was still distinctly unsettled. Their travelling chaise turned into Grafton Street at the end of a chill, wet day, but there was still sufficient light for Deborah to see that the street was lined with substantial mansions.
‘Here we are,’ said Ran as the c
oach came to a halt. ‘Welcome to our new home, Sister.’
Deb stared at the impressive frontage with its stone pillars and a pediment surrounding the door. She put a hand on his arm as he was about to alight.
‘Ran, surely this is far too expensive for us.’
Immediately his sunny mood vanished and he shook off her hand, saying curtly, ‘That need not concern you. Come along!’
His reply did not reassure Deborah at all, and by the time she retired to her room that night, her anxiety was considerably increased.
They had brought only Ran’s valet and her own maid with them from Lancashire, and although the servants were all perfectly polite, Deborah was not comfortable. She could not like Enfield, the butler, nor his wife, who was housekeeper. There was a coldness about them, and a wariness in their eyes, which she could not like.
‘You are just being missish,’ she told herself, thumping her pillow to try to make it more comfortable. ‘They are London people and you are unaccustomed to their ways.’
But as the days went on, her uneasiness grew, especially after Sir Sydney joined them. He insisted he was merely a guest, but he seemed to be on excellent terms with the staff, and when Deb mentioned this to her brother at breakfast one morning, he shrugged it off with an impatient wave of a hand.
‘Well of course, he saw to the hiring of them, after all.’ He saw that Deb was not convinced and gave a huff of exasperation. ‘Oh, come along, Deborah! You are feeling homesick for the north, that is what is wrong with you. Warslow thought you would be delighted with this house, being so near to Bond Street and the very best shops.’
Deborah said no more, but when she wrote to advise Gil of their direction she went out to post the letter herself, rather than giving it to a servant. She did not know if he would reply, but when three weeks had passed without word from him she began to suffer a twinge of doubt. Perhaps he had not meant what he said about helping her. She did not want to believe it, but it was increasingly difficult to ignore the insidious little voice in her head that told her she had been wrong before about the Viscount. Perhaps, now that she was no longer in his company, he had forgotten all about her.
Winning the Mail-order Bride & Pursued for the Viscount's Vengeance & Redeeming the Rogue Knight (9781488021725) Page 36