A True Gentleman (Regency Love Book 2)

by M. A. Nichols

  The little bit of courtly behavior helped settle Tabby’s ruffled spirits, and she took it. “Do you escort all the servants?”

  “Only the ones I’m especially fond of,” said Jennings with a smile.

  Tabby stiffened for a moment at the implications. After what she had endured, Tabby could not face another scene.

  “Oh, not in that sense, madam,” said Jennings, patting her arm as they walked along. “I have been happily married for over forty years, and I fear no woman can ever compare to my dear Sarah.”

  “She is a lucky lady to have such devotion,” said Tabby with a touch more earnestness than she had meant to convey. She kept herself from wallowing in the longing she felt, but she could not stop the swell of it that seized her heart. What would it be like to her spouse say such things?

  Tabby shook herself free of such musings and turned her thoughts to his earlier statement. “But I am at a loss, sir. How did I earn such a distinction?”

  “I am not one to gossip about my master or mistress,” said Jennings, “but I will say that Mrs. Kingsley was a godsend to Avebury Park. She is a true lady and the best mistress a butler could hope for, and you have been exceptionally kind to her.”

  Jennings stopped at a door, and from the noise behind it, Tabby suspected they had reached their destination. Facing her, Jennings continued. “Mrs. Kingsley has not been blessed with many friends and has few confidants.”

  That surprised Tabby. Mina had such a kind heart that it was difficult to believe she was in want of companionship. On the other hand, Tabby was no stranger to the fickle nature of society, and Mina was too unique to fit well into the tight mold required for acceptance among the gentry.

  “Besides helping her brother, you have given Mrs. Kingsley much comfort during this emotional time. For that, you have my undying thanks,” he said, giving her a bow.

  Another blessing. It may seem a small thing to an outsider’s perspective, but the words and gesture warmed Tabby’s heart. Income and stability for Phillip may be her premier motivation, but knowing that she had accomplished some further good buoyed her spirit. A prickle of tears came to her eyes, but Tabby brushed them off. Giving the butler an equally deferential curtsey, she smiled at the man.

  Motioning for her to proceed him, Jennings opened the door and ushered her into the servants’ hall.

  Every word and movement ceased the moment she crossed the threshold, as though she were a hound that had stumbled into a fox’s burrow.

  “Molly,” said Jennings to one of the maids, “would you please fetch a plate for Mrs. Russell?”

  “I don’t wish to be a bother,” said Tabby. “I’m certain the kitchen staff is busy with dinner. I can wait until I return to Gladwell House to dine.”

  Jennings leveled an impatient look at Tabby. “You must be famished, and it’ll be no trouble. There’s always meat pies on hand, and as Mrs. Kingsley had planned on you dining with them, there’s a fair bit of food laying around.”

  “A slice of pie would be fine,” said Tabby, glancing at the unwelcoming stares of the servants. It was not hostile per se, but there was no warmth to them, either. Jennings pulled out a chair for her, and Tabby’s face flamed as she sat. The butler’s behavior was very kind, but it was not helping the situation.

  As uncomfortable as Tabby had felt about dining with Mina and her family, she could see that being here would not be much better. Her manners were too fine for her to pass for a servant, and her purse too light to pass for a lady. Neither side would ever welcome her fully. This was Tabby’s life. Her future. Neither fish nor fowl, as they say.

  But filled with the warmth of Jenning’s kindness, Tabby would not allow it to pull her down. There was still plenty of good in her life.

  Chapter 17

  Graham propped his leg on an ottoman, sighing at the relief it gave him; with only Simon and Ambrose there for company, Graham allowed himself that uncouth indulgence. Each day he was getting stronger, but he still had far to go.

  Ambrose sat low in the armchair, swirling a snifter of brandy in his hand, and Simon sat as far away from the youngest Ashbrook as the room would allow. He doubted Simon was consciously aware of it, but Graham chuckled at the manifestation of his brother-in-law’s hidden frustrations with Ambrose. With Mina having retired early, it left an even larger, silent gap between the two gentlemen.

  “How are you feeling, Graham?” asked Simon. “You seem to be doing better.”

  Graham nodded. “Much better, but I have a long way to go yet. I think I might be well enough to start the next round of treatments.”

  “Next round? I thought you were done with that.”

  “Of course not,” said Graham. “There are options to pursue.”

  “What options?” Simon gaped like a carp.

  “There are hundreds of physicians and surgeons in our fair country,” he replied. “You don’t think I would give in after only a small handful have deemed it a lost cause, do you?”

  Simon’s shoulders tightened, his face pinching into a scowl, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Ambrose broke in with a chuckle.

  “Out with it, brother. You’re simply looking for any reason to keep that delicious nurse of yours around,” he said before gulping down the brandy faster than any sailor.

  “Pardon?” asked Graham.

  Ambrose waved at the footman to refill his glass. “You have that gorgeous creature waiting on you hand and foot. You cannot tell me that you don’t enjoy that. You two together. Alone.” And at that, Ambrose raised his eyebrows suggestively.

  “That’s not amusing, Ambrose,” said Simon.

  “It was not meant to be amusing. It was meant to be insinuating,” replied Ambrose. “You cannot honestly say that you would be upset at having such a pretty little thing like Mrs. Russell at your beck and call. You may be married, but you have two eyes.”

  Simon’s jaw tighten, and Graham could almost hear his teeth grinding from across the room, but Ambrose was more focused on his drink and did not seem to notice. Or maybe he did and did not care. It was difficult for Graham to tell any more.

  Simon rose to his feet to glare down his brother-in-law. “Ambrose, I will tell you this once and only once. I do have eyes, but they only see Mina. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to join my wife. I am certain you two can entertain yourselves on your own.”

  Graham watched his brother-in-law escape and felt for the man. Though Graham loved his brother, even he struggled to enjoy Ambrose’s company, and Simon did not have years of pleasant associations to help ease the frustration rife in any conversation that revolved around Ambrose. This facetious fribble with a penchant for causing contention in the family was not the lighthearted lad Graham had known. Ambrose had been the family jester. The one to tease them out of their doldrums. The one that helped them find laughter and happiness in their darkest times. Graham could only hope that one day that kindhearted lad would return to them.

  “So when do you plan on starting the next round of treatments?” asked Ambrose, his eyes locked on the amber liquor swirling in his glass.

  “You’re not going to try and talk me out of it?” asked Graham.

  “Why would I?”

  “Everyone else has attempted to do so.”

  Ambrose shrugged. “Why would you stop fighting if there is a chance you can win?”

  Graham stared at Ambrose. For all his man-about-town demeanor, he appeared to be the only member of the family who understood.

  “Every man needs a purpose, and it is only right that you fight for yours,” said Ambrose, gulping the rest of his brandy and staring into the empty glass.

  For the first time in years, Graham truly examined his brother, and he found himself wondering if Ambrose enjoyed his gad-about life as much as he claimed. Or perhaps it was nothing but a jovial facade.

  “Why did you come to visit?” asked Graham. “London must be growing quieter with the Season coming to a close, but I am certain there is plenty to occupy y
our time. And I doubt your visit has anything to do with escaping Nicholas’s family.” Graham watched him for a moment, and a sudden thought entered his head. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with Mina’s scare last month, would it?”

  Ambrose met Graham’s gaze, his eyebrows raised. “Yes, I rushed all the way here because I was worried about my sister and future niece or nephew.”

  His tone was everything one expected of a flippant young buck, but there was something beneath it that made Graham doubt Ambrose’s obnoxious veneer.

  “If you must know,” said Ambrose, “things were getting tense in London. A friend of mine landed in a bit of hot water after a gentleman discovered that his wife had a special understanding with my friend. I thought it best to decamp for a bit rather than get swept up in that madness.”

  Ambrose signaled for another drink, and Graham shook his head at his own silliness. It was pointless to imagine something deeper in Ambrose’s shallow mind.

  “Perhaps you need better friends,” said Graham.

  Ambrose snorted, downed the refreshed drink, and stood. “When my family starts sermonizing about my life, I know it is time to leave. Good night, Graham. I shall send in that luscious nursemaid of yours to ‘escort’ you home. And then perhaps, your night will get even better.”

  “Ambrose!” Graham growled, but before he could give his brother a proper set down for such filthy implications Ambrose abandoned his glass on the side table and strode from the room.

  Mina had written of her concern for their baby brother, and Graham had thought it troubling but not overly concerning. Seeing Ambrose in all his boorish glory gave him a better understanding of what exactly their sister had meant. And it bothered Graham, leaving him to wonder what would happen to his brother if he continued this aimless life of his.

  And as surely as Graham could see the destined disaster, he saw his own life unfolding in such a manner. A pointless life with nothing to do but sit about. A gentleman of leisure. The thought of it sent a shiver down Graham’s spine. Such things had never appealed to him, and after having experienced the joys of his navy life, a lazy life on land was inconceivable. Just the thought of passing his days in such a fashion filled Graham with dread.

  He could not allow that to be his future. Not ever.

  Chapter 18

  And once again, Tabby found herself lurking at keyholes. This was what she had been reduced to. Hovering at the door, skulking about like some ne’er-do-well, but Captain Ashbrook had left her no choice. She had never heard mention of Mr. Davis before the man appeared on their doorstep, and now, the two of them had been in the captain’s bedchamber for over an hour.

  Kneeling on the floor, Tabby wondered how often other servants did the same. Perhaps they all crouched in the shadows, gleaning whatever gossip they could from their masters and mistresses. Of course, that would presume the gossip was worth overhearing. What was happening in Captain Ashbrook’s bedchamber certainly fell into that category.

  “It is impossible to tell from an external examination,” said Mr. Davis. “It is clear that your wounds are causing you trouble, but without another surgery, it is difficult to know what is going on. Perhaps there are some splinters festering in there.”

  Tabby’s hand flew to her mouth. Another surgery? The man could not be serious. Captain Ashbrook was doing better every day, and to perform another operation would set him back or even do more harm; to do so on nothing stronger than a “perhaps” was ludicrous.

  “You think it possible?” asked the captain. “It took several tries before they got everything, but I believe I would know if there were some remnant splinters remaining, and it doesn’t feel as though that is the case.”

  At least Captain Ashbrook appeared to have some common sense; Tabby was glad to hear that.

  “Perhaps, but you would be amazed to know how often a fragment is overlooked,” said the surgeon. “Sometimes all it takes is another set of eyes to find it.”

  The captain gave one of those masculine grunts that meant nothing and all things at the same time.

  “Ma’am?”

  Tabby jumped out of her skin, nearly bumping into the door, and she turned to see the footman standing behind her. Placing a finger to her lips, she hushed him. His eyebrows rose, but James followed her order, coming over to join her beside the door.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  Raising a silencing hand, Tabby returned her attention to the door in time to hear Captain Ashbrook say, “When can you do it?”

  “No!” Tabby hissed, but she slapped a hand over her own mouth. That fool! What was he thinking? Another operation? Surely, there were only so many times a body can undergo such torments, and Tabby wanted to shake the man for putting himself and his family through it.

  “Is he mad?” whispered James. “Captain Ashbrook barely survived the last one.”

  The footman looked as worried as Tabby felt, but there was no time to dwell on it. The surgeon was coming towards the door, and Tabby jumped from her spot before the two servants scurried out of sight. Standing side-by-side, Tabby and James hid inside the adjacent room.

  “Thank you, Mr. Davis,” said Captain Ashbrook as the door opened. “Until this afternoon.”

  Mr. Davis passed by the doorway where Tabby and James stood, and she nudged the footman forward to escort the surgeon out. Once they were gone, Tabby stormed into the captain’s chamber.

  *

  Graham drummed his fingers against the grip of his cane and stared out the window. Another operation. Though he would never admit it aloud, it terrified him. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Graham’s mind filled with memories of the past tortures. The cutting. Slicing. Digging. The burning agony of fever. Sweat broke out on his forehead at the thought of enduring it all again. If there were any other option, Graham would gladly take it, but the medicinal remedies offered by the physicians and apothecaries had not helped enough.

  “Another?” Mrs. Russell burst in through the bedchamber door, her brown eyes blazing. “After everything we have done to heal your body you would undergo yet another surgery?”

  Her appearance was so startling that Graham stared at her for full ten seconds before his brain allowed him to respond. “It is none of your concern.”

  Mrs. Russell heaved a sigh, crossing her arms. “Surely, you can do better than that. As the one who cares for your health, it is clearly my concern.”

  “But you do not get to make the decision for me.”

  “Though perhaps you could have mentioned it before the surgeon appeared.”

  Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to because he knew exactly how Mrs. Russell would react. “I’m doing what I must.”

  “What you must? I thought we discussed this already,” said Mrs. Russell. “We have talked about this many times, and I thought you had decided to let go of this. Move on.”

  Graham tapped his cane against the floor, his jaw clenching. “Move on to what exactly? Being an invalid for the rest of my life? Quit the one thing that matters most to me? Do you truly think a bit of sketching would make up for what I have lost?”

  “Of course not,” said Mrs. Russell. “But there is much you can do if you will open yourself up to the possibility. You could find a new vocation.”

  “What do you know of it?” bellowed Graham. “How could you possibly understand what I am going through?”

  “Oh, of course,” said Mrs. Russell, adopting a look of false contrition. “No one else could possibly understand what the great Captain Ashbrook is suffering. His burden is so heavy that no one else can hope to match it.” Her expression darkened. “Do you ever think of anyone but yourself? Do you ever stop for one moment and think about what others are suffering?”

  “I—”

  “I am not finished!” she barked, glowering at him. “Do you think this is the life I chose? Do you think that as a child I dreamt of a time when I would be forced to wait on others? Do you think that I am overjoyed to have fallen from m
istress to servant? Everyone suffers heartache and loss. Everyone has struggles and difficulties. Most plans do not turn out the way one intends, but that is life. It is not guaranteed to end perfectly, but that does not give you the right to act the fool.”

  Graham ground his teeth together. “Are you this vicious with everyone, or am I the only one to have the honor of feeling the slice of your tongue?”

  Mrs. Russell’s complexion reddened with fury, and her eyes narrowed on him. “I am tired of watching others make foolhardy and ludicrous decisions. I am tired of watching people throw away the good they have simply because it isn’t what they desired. I am tired of holding my tongue while mulish men make a muck of their lives!”

  “Fiend sieze it, woman!”

  “Language, Captain Ashbrook!” Mrs. Russell shouted with a stomp.

  At that, Graham let out a slew of curses in his mind. Heaven save him from meddlesome women who stick their noses where they do not belong. There were not curse words enough for all that he wished to unleash on the lady standing in front of him.

  But that one thought doused his anger, bringing his thoughts and emotions up short when he realized where his temper had led him. What was he becoming? The sort of gentleman who hollers and curses at ladies? To belittle Mrs. Russell like a cad?

  Graham scrubbed at his face, the fire fading from his soul, leaving him slumped in his chair.

  “You have so many opportunities and possibilities within your grasp, yet you refuse to accept any of them because it’s not the thing you wish,” she said. “Yes, your life is not perfect, but it is a far better than most in your circumstance. Stop squandering it!”

  And with that, Mrs. Russell stormed out of the bedchamber, slamming the door behind her. The sound reverberated through the house, dissipating into a heavy silence.

  ***

  Standing at the kitchen table, Tabby sliced the onions and pretended the vapors were making her teary. Mrs. Bunting stood at the oven, opening the latch to check on the bread, and a muffled moan lingered in the air. Tabby’s hands shook, and she paused as a scream followed it.