Jonathan shot her a look of surprise, and she shrugged her shoulders, her face the picture of concern.
They needed to get rid of Evelyn so they could discuss strategy, not engage in polite chatter over afternoon tea.
He wondered what was going on in her head, but with plenty of mysteries to get to the bottom of and plenty more unanswered questions to be dealt with, he’d have to wait until much later to find out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
GABBY HADN’T KNOWN quite what to expect when she’d stepped off Lucas Townsend’s boat onto English soil.
But never in her wildest imaginings had she pictured herself playing hostess to Jonathan’s family at afternoon tea.
Her fingers shook as she poured the brew that she had, quite frankly, never really cared for into delicate china cups.
The ritual had always seemed strange to her, how one wrong move could have the haute ton turning their noses up. But her English mother had adored the stuff and had insisted that Gabrielle learn the traditions and customs of a proper English lady of quality when she’d been a little girl.
At the time, Gabby had thought it a waste of time. Now she was grateful for her mama’s tutelage.
As she looked up to pass the countess her tea, Gabby noticed the other woman studying her closely. But Lady Downsbury’s smile was warm and open as she accepted the cup.
Evelyn Downsbury was, Gabby knew, a very important woman in Jonathan’s life.
She remembered, though it now seemed a lifetime ago, how anxious she’d been about meeting Jonathan’s family. His parents, his sister, and his cousin, Evelyn, who was more like a sister.
Jonathan had laughed one evening when Gabrielle had confessed her concerns.
“They’ll adore you, my love,” he had said with a tender smile, “just as I do. Though Evelyn might seem a little frosty. It isn’t anything to take personally. She is shy as a mouse.”
The lady sitting in front of her, however, was certainly not the shy, retiring sort. In fact, given the way she bantered with her husband and scolded her cousin, Gabby would say she was quite the opposite.
After drinks had been dispensed, Evelyn leaned over to pat Gabby’s hand.
“I do apologise, Miss Dumas, for my shock earlier. And for my husband’s language,” she added with a stern glance in Andrew’s direction.
Andrew merely winked at his wife in response, and Gabby watched in a sort of jealous fascination as a fetching blush bloomed across the other woman’s beautiful face.
She barely held a wistful sigh in check at the exchange between husband and wife.
There had been a time when she and Jonathan had been the same with each other, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever find their way back to that place again.
“That’s quite all right,” she mumbled when she noticed that Lady Downsbury was awaiting an answer. “I can imagine it was quite a shock to see my dead body arguing with Jona— er, Mr. Spencer — in the study.”
Instead of laughing politely at her comment, the countess narrowed her eyes for a second before smoothing her expression and moving slightly closer to Gabrielle’s chair.
“May I be frank, Miss Dumas?” she asked quietly, looking over her shoulder to see that the gentlemen were now engrossed in their own conversation.
“Of — of course,” Gabby muttered, hating that she was feeling so nervous and meek but unable to do anything about it.
This woman’s opinion of her mattered, because she mattered to Jonathan.
“When Jonathan returned from Paris, I got the fright of my life. I’ve never seen anyone so heart sore. So broken. It terrified me, and I know that it terrified Anna, too.”
Gabrielle didn’t know how to respond, but she could see that what Lady Downsbury was saying was difficult, given the flash of pain in her deep brown eyes.
“I have been worried ever since, truth be told,” the lady continued. “When I came in here, when I heard who you were, I didn’t care a jot about propriety, or the fact that you were arguing, or what you were arguing about.”
The countess put her cup on the table, and Gabby followed suit, the china rattling as her hands shook.
Evelyn Carlyle turned back and smiled, reaching out and grasping one of Gabrielle’s hands.
“All I cared about, all I care about, is that for the first time since his return from Paris, Jonathan seems himself again. Seems alive again.”
Gabby swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat.
It wasn’t like her to be so emotional.
But the countess’ words, along with the tears shining in the woman’s eyes, were enough to overset her.
“You’ve brought him back to life, Miss Dumas. And I will be forever in your debt because of it.”
Gabrielle couldn’t speak until she regained her composure. And even then, what could she say? Everything was so complicated. And she had been trained not to reveal anything to strangers.
And yet…
This beautiful, elegant woman seemed so kind, so warm. And she was adored by two men whom Gabby trusted with her life, now that she believed their innocence.
Her tale, however, would take longer to explain than an afternoon of tea would allow.
She smiled at the countess, sniffing and blinking furiously to keep her tears at bay, earning herself a watery grin in return.
“Please, my lady, call me Gabby,” she finally said.
“And you must call me Evelyn.”
“THEY’RE CRYING,” JONATHAN whispered furiously, watching the ladies turn to watering pots before his eyes.
“Yes, I’d imagine they are,” Andrew drawled, keeping his back turned.
“Well, they need to stop. We have work to do.”
“If you want to tell them to stop, tell them to stop. I’m staying out of it.”
“When did you become a coward?” Jonathan scowled.
“I didn’t become a coward, Jon. I became a husband.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that I’d rather suffer your foul mood than my darling wife’s. It means that if you’re in a towering temper with me, the most I’ll suffer is a few snide remarks and a threat or two of bodily harm.”
Andrew took a sip of his rapidly cooling tea and grimaced. The delicate china looked ridiculous in the man’s hands, but Jonathan reckoned he himself looked no better clutching the cup and saucer, which were decorated with tiny birds, for God’s sake.
“Do you seriously expect me to believe you’re more frightened of my little cousin than you are of me?” Jonathan asked, feeling affronted at the mere idea.
“I’m not afraid of Eve, Jonathan,” Andrew said in a voice one would use to explain something to a toddler. “But she is the love of my life. The keeper of my heart.”
“I’m going to cast up my accounts if you keep that up,” Jonathan interrupted the flowery words, hoping his tone conveyed his disgust.
“Aside from that,” Andrew continued as though his friend hadn’t spoken, “she is the keeper of the key to her bedchamber, and, much as I love you, Jon, that is infinitely more precious to me than you will ever be.”
“Have I ever told you how painfully annoying you are?” Jonathan bit out.
“Frequently” was Andrew’s cheerful response. “But I never tire of hearing it, you old charmer you.”
Jonathan jumped from his seat before the ridiculous conversation could continue any further.
He was in a foul mood, just as Andrew had accused him.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy to see Evelyn. Truth be told, he still felt so guilty about her that any opportunity to see how contented she was with Andrew was a very good thing.
But she was a distraction for Andrew. Plus, now they would have to watch everything they said instead of being able to speak freely, which meant getting to the bottom of this would take longer.
Which meant Gabrielle being safe and being his wife would take longer.
All in all, he had every reason in the world t
o be in that mood.
“Well, forgive my getting carried away.” Evelyn spoke now and, mercifully, sounded much more composed. “I think it’s time I went to check on William and freshen up a little.”
Andrew stood at Evelyn’s words, his eyes gleaming with an intent that Jonathan didn’t want to think too much about, given they were trained on his adopted sister.
“Andrew, do please stay with Jonathan and Gabby. I’m sure everyone is eager to discuss things you think I’m unaware of.”
Jonathan schooled his features to remain impassive at Evelyn’s words. Clearly, Andrew had been divulging state secrets to his wife.
He did, however, dart a furious glance at Andrew, who studiously avoided making eye contact with him. The swine.
“I’ll see you all later,” Evelyn said as she swept from the room, her bronze skirts rustling as she passed.
In her wake, she left a deafening silence.
“Well,” Gabby eventually broke the tense atmosphere around them, her voice ringing falsely cheery. “Your wife is lovely, Andrew.”
Her speaking was all the incentive Jonathan needed to rail at his friend, and he swung round to face him now.
“You told Evie?” he barked. “I knew you would go soft in retirement, Drew, but Christ! Even you must remember that we tend not to chat to our family and friends about what it is we do.”
“I understand you’re under a lot of stress,” Andrew answered casually, flicking a piece of lint from his superfine, “so I will allow that comment about my going soft to pass.”
Jonathan snorted, but Andrew continued as though he had made no sound at all.
“And it seems to have escaped your memory that my wife was exposed to what it is we do, or did in my case, when we helped her all those years ago at Spencer Park.”
“Be that as it may, you have no right divulging secrets of the past, my past, to my interfering little cousin,” Jonathan snapped.
Andrew looked at him then, fury flashing in his green eyes.
“Be careful, Jonathan,” he muttered quietly.
His quiet, cold ire served to heat Jonathan’s even more. It had always been thus. Andrew’s anger had always presented itself in icy, steely form while Jonathan’s raged with fire and heat.
“Or what?” he snarled in answer.
Jonathan wasn’t sure what was going on with him. He had never spoken to Andrew like this. He’d never really spoken to anyone like this. Unless it had been an enemy of sorts. And Andrew hadn’t really done anything wrong, Jonathan could admit to himself.
The truth was he felt furious, irritated, frustrated and even a little frightened when he thought about someone harming Gabrielle. But it wasn’t Andrew’s fault, and he was well aware of that.
Andrew arched a brow, looking every inch the haughty aristocrat.
Jonathan huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his dark blond hair, mussing it enough to give his poor valet palpitations.
Damn it all.
Gabrielle had been arguing with him before his family’s arrival. Evelyn would, no doubt, find a way to interfere in his relationship now and very possibly make it worse. Andrew must think he should be carted off to Bedlam, and, all things considered, he had no idea where to even start with trying to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding Gabby.
This day couldn’t possibly get any worse, he decided.
A discreet cough signalled the arrival of yet another person.
Bloody hell. It was like Piccadilly during the Season in here.
“What is it, Jeffries?” Gabrielle asked politely.
“Captain Townsend to call on you, miss,” the butler answered, holding out a silver tray with the captain’s calling card.
Jonathan felt his temper flare once more.
He’d been wrong. The day could get worse, it seemed. And it just had.
CHAPTER TWELVE
GABRIELLE ONLY HAD moments to wonder why Andrew had stiffened in much the same way Jonathan had at the mention of Lucas’ name before the captain swept into the room, bowing to her, looking as handsome as ever in his blue captain’s uniform.
“Captain,” Gabby couldn’t stop her grin as she rushed forward to grasp Lucas’ hand. “It is good to see you.”
“And you, Miss Dumas,” he smiled in return, his navy blue eyes crinkling as he did.
She turned toward the other two gentlemen, her smile dimming slightly at their matching scowls. Suddenly, she wished Evelyn were here to smooth the way.
“Um, Lucas, this is—”
“I am such a ninny. I forgot my shawl.” As if Gabrielle’s thoughts had summoned her, Evelyn glided back into the room. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Captain Townsend, and she smiled widely.
“Captain! How wonderful to see you here.”
Gabby looked on in surprise as Evelyn rushed over, extending a hand to the man towering over her.
The captain took the proffered hand, bowing over it with a friendly smile.
“My lady. How do you do?”
“You know each other?” Gabby asked in surprise.
“Yes, we are acquainted,” Evelyn replied before turning to Andrew.
“Darling, you remember the captain?”
Andrew’s eyes narrowed as the man bowed to him. “How could I forget?” he drawled, his eyes not leaving the captain’s hand, which still clasped Evelyn’s.
The answering grin on Lucas’ face indicated that the incorrigible cad knew exactly what he was doing.
Evelyn pulled her hand from Lucas’ and moved to stand beside her husband, who promptly put his arm around her and tucked her into his side.
Evelyn rolled her eyes at Andrew’s obvious jealousy, but the smirk on her face suggested that she didn’t really mind it at all.
“Jon, have you met Captain Townsend?” she asked now, while Gabby watched Jonathan’s reaction anxiously.
The look on his face could mean anything: that he intended to ignore her friend, or murder him.
“I haven’t yet had the pleasure,” Jonathan said, though his tone suggested the acquaintance would be anything but.
“Mr. Spencer,” Lucas said, bowing to the other man, all politeness.
“Captain.” Jonathan’s good manners dictated that he should respond in kind, though he clearly wasn’t happy about it.
After a moment’s tense silence, Lucas spoke directly to Gabby. “I hadn’t expected you to have so many visitors,” he quipped. “But their presence has obviously done you the world of good. You look wonderful.”
Gabby flushed in confused embarrassment at Lucas’ words and the intimate tone with which he spoke.
He’d never spoken to her in such a way in the past.
She glanced nervously toward Jonathan, whose face was now like thunder, then back to Lucas to see a definite mischievous glint in his eye.
What on earth was he about?
“Er, thank you,” she mumbled, embarrassed.
“Where is Mr. Casings?” he asked now.
“Piers is out on estate business this afternoon and isn’t expected back before dinner.”
The explanation came from Jonathan, who strode forward and took Gabrielle’s hand, pulling her toward him.
He had all the subtlety of a runaway carriage.
“A shame you missed him,” he finished.
Evelyn gasped at Jonathan’s rudeness.
“Jonathan,” she admonished. Turning to Lucas, she softened her tone. “I am sure Mr. Casings would be more than happy for you to stay and dine with us, Captain,” she said with a smile.
Lucas laughed softly, eyeing the gentlemen standing either side of them with the ladies practically stuck to their sides.
“I am afraid Mr. Casings is usually as happy to see me as your husband and cousin, my lady, though I appreciate the gesture.”
Gabby frowned at Lucas’ words.
She had explained her relationship with the man to Jonathan, had explained how he had helped her, yet Jonathan was being dreadfully
rude.
“I am happy to see you, Lucas,” she said firmly, stepping away from Jonathan.
“And I,” said Evelyn. “In fact, I suggest the three of us have a nice catch up and walk around the gardens.”
“I thought you were tending to William,” Andrew said, snarled really.
“William is still fast asleep. And I have plenty of time to change before dinner.”
A look passed between husband and wife that was beyond Gabrielle’s understanding, but after a tense stand-off, Andrew sighed and turned to Jonathan.
“Come, Jon. Let’s get a real drink. You can tell me what the hell is going on here.”
Jonathan looked as though he would argue, but after a moment, he too sighed in seeming defeat and made his way to the door.
“I’ll tell you as soon as I figure it out.”
“MY HUSBAND AND cousin were unpardonably rude, Captain. I do hope you will accept my apologies.”
The trio were walking in Piers’ rose garden, ambling amongst buds just starting to bloom. Gabby watched the lazy buzz of bees flitting from flower to flower.
It would have been delightful if her emotions hadn’t been so riotous.
She hated arguing with Jonathan, but arguing they had been. Then, of course, Andrew and Evelyn had arrived, and while the countess had been lovely, and Gabby had known at once they would be fast friends, it hadn’t been easy seeing Andrew again, given that he too had thought her dead.
And now Lucas was here, and the atmosphere between the men had been tangible and fraught with tension — enough to give her megrim.
“You have nothing to apologise for, my lady,” Lucas answered with a friendly smile. He seemed completely unfazed by the less-than-warm welcome he had received.
“Please don’t call me ‘my lady.’ I hate it,” Evelyn responded with a mock shudder. “You must call me Evelyn.”
“Your husband will have my head,” Lucas quipped. “But if it pleases my lady, Evelyn it is. And you must call me Lucas.”
“Wonderful.”
They came to a small gazebo centred in the paths running through the garden.
“Shall we sit?”
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