She stretched catlike so Gabriel might enjoy the length of her leg. “I am much more fragile than you realize, Godown. If not, I would not care Lord Anthony returns on Monday to bring me under his thumb. And as for the viscount, I enjoy Lord Stafford’s quick wit and his cynical nature. In fact, the future earl reminds me of you.”
Gabriel spewed his drink in reaction. “In what way, may I ask, do you believe Lord Stafford and I are similar? In my opinion, the man is a pompous arse.”
“May I make the point many in the ton would say the same of you?” she countered. “Moreover, like most people, my tastes take a particular slant: For me, it is sandy blonde hair, broad shoulders, and tall–a man with a testing intellect and broad opinions.”
Gabriel frowned deeply. “I would not say I choose the same type of woman each time,” he said distractedly.
“Au contraire, my Lord,” Christina said sweetly. “Your tastes are quite pronounced. The women have different physical features, but they have very distinct similarities. Mainly, they are discreet, except maybe that flamboyant opera dancer to whom you have shown a preference of late.” Gabriel thought of the “drama” associated with his parting from Margaret Early, and he involuntarily nodded his agreement.
Christina continued, “You prefer women who will place no claim on you: a widow, a courtesan, or a woman married to another.” He could not argue with the lady’s logic. Since the Templeton fiasco, he had purposely avoided the marriage mart and those making their Society’s debuts.
“I chose women who know how to please a man,” he argued.
“Or perhaps you have no desire to teach an innocent about love because you are afraid to know affection. I have known many a man who avoids the emotional connection such tenderness requires.” Christina aimlessly played with a strand of her hair.
Normally, Gabriel would consider her movement a sensual invitation, but at the moment, he wondered why he had ever thought any of his liaisons had provided him comfort. They each had taken the opportunity of his upcoming marriage to dissect his personality. And he did not like the man these women saw: he was expressively detached from the world. Perhaps that is why every woman I meet bores me within a week of our introduction, he thought. Unable to any longer deny the image he had created for the world, Gabriel moved to change the subject. “Will you and Lord Anthony remain in London?”
Thankfully, the lady permitted his ploy. “My husband thinks to bury me in the country.”
*
“Word has it the Havertys will attend the Brants’ Winter Ball in Lincolnshire,” Lyn announced as the sisters enjoyed afternoon tea after the departure of their morning callers. Since word had leaked out of Gabriel’s intentions to marry, the number of callers for the Roses at Fugol Hall had increased dramatically.
Lía, who had seated herself beside her twin, added, “Then we should see Godown has Miss Haverty’s acquaintance this evening. Our nephew should spend time with the girl before the Havertys’ departure.”
Bel set her cup down gently. “Are we all agreed Godown’s choice should be Alice Haverty?”
Lyn’s forehead knitted in concern. “I thought we had chosen the best of the candidates.”
Lía observed, “We did, Dear, but I shall admit to being a bit disappointed in Miss Haverty’s performance this morning. She barely said ten words. If the girl can offer no conversation, Godown will swallow her whole and spit her out.”
“The girl could hardly offer more than an affirmation. Mrs. Haverty gave little quarter in that measure,” Lyn said defensively.
Bel said, “I agree with Lía. Whoever we choose for Godown must bring our nephew a new reality. He requires a woman who presents a challenge.”
Lyn’s countenance displayed her confusion. “Then which shall it be? If Godown wishes to bring a wife to child in order to save the title and all of our dear Renard’s properties, then it is Miss Haverty. Yet, if we are willing to permit Isaacs to take the unentailed pieces, Gabriel can choose a woman who will, at least, meet some of his personal requirements.”
Bel said softly into the silence that followed her sister’s pronouncement, “What if we found a woman with whom Godown could know contentment and who would willingly accept his affections?”
Lía’s interest piqued; she asked curiously, “Is there such a woman?”
Bel nodded her affirmation. “I have discovered the name of a woman that both irritates and entices Godown.”
The twins’ natural tendency to gossip brought their attentions fully on their eldest sister. “Truly?” Lía asked.
“How did you manage the information? Surely, Godown would not readily divulge such details,” Lyn accused.
Bel dropped her voice as if sharing a secret. “Aris told me.”
“Aristotle Pennington!” Lía gasped. “You have seen him?”
Lyn said perceptively, “Look at our Rosabel. She has definitely seen Mr. Pennington. That satisfied look on our sister’s countenance announces she has, at last, shared Mr. Pennington’s bed. I thought something different in your appearance. Oh, Bel, please tell us it is true.”
Bel spoke through a rush of color to her face. “I most certainly have not…”
“Oh, yes, you certainly have!” Lía exclaimed. She clapped her fingers in a girlish applause. “You are correct, Lyn. Our sister glows! Why did I not notice earlier?”
Bel swallowed hard. When she had decided to include her sisters in the search for Grace Nelson, she had not planned to share the news of her relationship with Pennington. Her inquiries into Miss Nelson’s past had proven fruitless, and she had hoped the twins might have other sources. Despite her frustration with the search, it secretly pleased Bel her sisters had noticed the difference in her, for Bel had felt different–happier than she could remember being. “I am a woman of age,” she said evenly. “If I choose to renew my relationship with Mr. Pennington, it is of no concern to others.”
Lyn squeezed the back of Bel’s hand. “We are thrilled for you, are we not, Lía?” The youngest of the former Crowden sisters nodded her agreement. “We know your life with Granville brought you peace, but you have never known love, Bel. It is not too late. Your heart has always found Mr. Pennington. We both thought the two of you might have come together when he assisted Gabriel with that Templeton business.”
Lía added quickly, “Lyn and I were quite saddened when it did not occur. We want your happiness above all others. You are our dearest sister, and it is time you placed your own needs above others. We realize the sacrifice you made by marrying Granville. With you so highly placed, father permitted Lyn and I some latitude in choosing our husbands. You have seen to your family long enough. We can all stand taller because of your devotion.”
Bel blushed thoroughly. “Aristotle seems pleased with the possibilities,” she said coyly.
Lía leaned forward to whisper, “And you, Bel, are you pleased with the possibilities?”
Bel rasped, “More than pleased.”
Her sisters hugged Bel with such intensity it brought tears to her eyes. Finally, she said, “Enough of this.” She pulled back to hide her embarrassment. “Our task is to find Godown a wife.”
Lía straightened her shoulders. “Then tell us what you have uncovered, but please know this is not finished. Lyn and I will have all the details of your and Mr. Pennington’s renewed acquaintance. Is that not true, Sister?”
“Absolutely,” Lyn assured.
Despite her best efforts, Bel colored–a rosy red spreading across her neck and cheeks. “For the time being, let us just say Mr. Pennington thought I had previous knowledge of the woman’s existence.”
“How delicious!” Lía said with a satisfied grin upon her lips.
Bel attempted to smother her own smile. The one that had graced her lips since she and Aristotle had parted. “Mr. Pennington assures me Godown holds the lady who saved our nephew in Scotland in the highest regard.”
“Gabriel has shared such disclosures with Mr. Pennington?” Lyn aske
d in disbelief.
“Of course, not,” Bel explained. “In fact, Aris says Godown believes the lady holds some connection to the Scotland incident and the two London attacks.”
Lyn’s mouth formed a tight line. “Then perhaps we should not seek out the woman.”
“On the contrary,” Bel said. “Godown must find the woman before he can be free of her memory. If the lady proves false, Gabriel’s instincts will protect him, but if she proves true, our nephew may speak of a great love.” She sipped the tepid tea. “Above and beyond, I am of the persuasion no woman could look upon Godown’s countenance and not fall madly in love with the man.”
Lía reasoned, “The woman risked everything to protect Gabriel and nurse him to health, and she accepted no compensation for her efforts. A conniving female would have demanded Godown marry her.”
“And the lady made two drawings to warn Gabriel of his attacker’s identity,” Lyn finished her sister’s thoughts.
“Our nephew believes the lady’s sketches were meant to lure him into his assailant’s clutches,” Bel explained.
Lía chortled. “Methinks the man doth protest too much. I would say Godown wishes to believe the worst to justify his ignoring his feelings.”
Lyn agreed with a pronounced nod of her head. “Then tell us the lady’s identity, Bel.”
Bel lowered her voice again. “The woman’s name is Miss Grace Nelson. I have checked with every source of which I can think, but as far as I can discover, Miss Nelson has never known a Season. If I asked of her many more times, people will begin to wonder. I require your wealth of connections to uncover information on the woman’s family.”
Lía and Lyn exchanged a knowing glance Bel recognized as their twin connection. “What else do we know besides the lady’s name?” Lyn asked.
“Not much,” Bel admitted. “I could not ask Aristotle to share every detail. Otherwise, he would realize he should not have spoken of Godown’s personal affairs.”
Lyn giggled, “I love a man in passion’s throes.”
Lía said tersely, “We are not speaking of you and Thatcher.”
Bel gasped, “You and Doctor Thatcher?”
“Could we concentrate on the problem at hand?” Lía chastised, but Bel noted Lyn’s slight tilt of her head that indicated her sister’s acknowledgement of her twin’s words. “I repeat, what else do we know of Miss Nelson?”
Bel’s mouth twisted with amusement. This was certainly not the conversation she had imagined. “Aris mentioned the man who attacked Godown the other evening had reportedly followed our nephew to Town.”
“From where?” Lyn inquired. “From Staffordshire?”
Bel shook her head in the negative. “No, from Lancashire. Although Aris did not say so, I am assuming our mysterious Miss Nelson is from the area.”
“That information will assist us,” Lía assured.
“But I have already asked of the woman and have discovered nothing of import,” Bel protested.
Lía asked, “Did you seek the lady’s family in Debrett’s catalogue?”
“The Baronetage?” Bel said in self-chastisement. “Why did I not consider Mr. Debrett’s Peerage before now?”
Within moments, they had retrieved Godown’s copy of the Baronetage from the library, and a systematic search brought them the information they sought.
Nelson of Foresthill Hall
Thomas Lenard Nelson, born 3 April 1766 and died 12 October 1808; married 15 June 1790, Louisa, daughter of Francis Bredlowe of Clifton Manor in the county of Lancashire; by which lady (who died 1810) he has issue Geoffrey, born 2 February 1791; Grace 19 September 1793; Mercy 11 July 1798.
Then followed the history and rise of the ancient and respectable family in the usual terms: how it had been first settled in Lancashire; how mentioned in Dugdale serving the office of High Sheriff, representing a borough in three successive parliaments, exertions of loyalty and dignity of the baroncy, in the first year of Charles II; forming altogether two handsome duodecimo pages.
“At least, the lady comes from legitimate stock,” Lyn observed.
Bel declared, “All we must do now is to locate Miss Grace Nelson and determine if she is fit to be the next Marquise of Godown.”
Chapter Thirteen
Gabriel bowed before Miss Alice Haverty. His stomach had knotted the moment he had stepped into the Alberts’ ballroom, but he had set himself a task; and he would see it through. “Miss Haverty,” he said dutifully, “if you are not previously engaged, I would claim the first set.”
Pure panic crossed the girl’s face, and Gabriel wondered if his aunts had make a mistake in identifying Miss Haverty as a possible candidate for his wife. He examined her closely. Blonde hair forced into tight curls to frame the narrow cheekbones. Petite with a small waist, but generous curves. His body would enjoy showing the lady intimacy, but his mind was remain elsewhere.
“I apologize, my Lord,” she said so softly Gabriel had to strain to hear her over the ballroom’s din. “Lord Abbott has claimed the first set, but the second remains available if that is acceptable.” Miss Haverty looked to the right, and Gabriel’s eyes followed the girl’s. Lord Luther Abbott, the future Viscount Symington, smiled at Miss Haverty with more familiarity than with which Gabriel approved. Of course, in a marriage of convenience, his title held the higher rank.
“I will count myself fortunate,” he said contritely, “to escort you through a country dance.” With that, Gabriel bowed his exit. He thought to claim another’s hand, but he assumed the Havertys would consider his interest in their daughter more honest if he remained unattached for the opening set. Therefore, he made his way to the gaming room. It was too early for any of his companions to make an appearance so Gabriel snatched a glass of champagne from a serving tray and found himself a dark corner where he could once again go over the sketchy details he possessed regarding his current dilemma.
Despite the chaos his father’s will had created, it was nothing compared to the turmoil from the assaults, which held no rhyme or reason. “How could this be?” he asked himself. How, after all these years, had it come to this? He had fought more enemies than he could count, but the battle lines were clearly drawn in those encounters. Good versus evil. But in this matter, he no longer knew his role. Had he brought such destruction upon another that the person would wish to see him dead?
And what part did Grace Nelson play in this ignominy? No matter what the evidence told him, Gabriel could not shake the feeling there was something he was missing. Thoughts of Miss Nelson that still shook him to his core. “Why would the lady give me her most precious gift and then turn from me?” he mused. “And what is Miss Nelson’s true connection to the mysterious Jonah Wright or is it Lord Spectre? The ghost. There must be some clue with the man’s name. But what?
*
“You plan to escort Miss Haverty driving this afternoon?” Bel asked suspiciously.
Gabriel bit back his first response. If he did not know better, he would think his aunt disapproved of his choice of companions. At the Alberts’ fete, he had danced twice with the lady, claiming the supper waltz so he might not only spend time with the girl, but also to “announce” the seriousness of his pursuit. “Was that not what you wished of me, Tantine?”
Bel caressed his cheek. “Not if it does not please you. You are what is important in this equation. I will not have you unhappy. We will find another means.”
Gabriel caught her hand and kissed her palm. “This family has relinquished enough in my name. It is time I pay my dues. Even with our short acquaintance, I have determined although Miss Haverty would never be my first choice, I am certain I will learn to care for the woman. More importantly, I will secure the title, and if the lady and I are fortunate enough to conceive early on, everything my father designed will remain with the Crowdens.”
His aunt’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “I had such great plans for you. How did we run afoul?”
“I have thought of little else since Mr. R
ankin clarified my father’s wishes,” Gabriel confessed. “At first, thinking in my conceit, I would have done things differently, I cursed my ignorance. But after the initial shock, I realized I would likely have postponed the decision to marry only when father’s will forced me to do so. I have grown accustomed to my own way. Perhaps, I would have chosen someone a bit earlier. I cannot say for certain. I thought I knew what I expected in a wife, but some self-censure has proved all those preconceived notions null. Miss Haverty has received a proper education in the arts, which a man requires in a wife. She will serve me well.”
Bel countered, “But does the lady have the mettle to challenge your passion.”
Gabriel automatically thought of Grace. He suspected few women of his acquaintance possessed the lady’s ingenuity and determination. He could not imagine Miss Haverty would ever agree to share her room with a stranger and to perform the type of surgery to which many men would turn up their noses. “I will keep my passion in check,” he said resolutely. “There is no place for emotions in marriage of those of our station.” With that, Gabriel kissed his aunt’s cheek and headed for his waiting carriage.
*
“When may we expect the ship?” Murhad Jamot asked the man he had never trusted.
“It is winter and the crossing is not easy,” the man said smugly. “The icy waters may delay the delivery. It could be a fortnight or a month or even two.”
Jamot eyed the man with whom he had struck his most recent negotiations. If this English pig thought he could cheat Jamot out of the fortune the Baloch knew awaited the owner of the ship’s hidden cargo, his newest partner would find himself at the bottom of the icy waters the man had claimed had precipitated the delay. In the two years he had been in “this God-forsaken land,” Jamot had dispensed with more than one Englishman, and he would have no qualms in repeating himself. “I have other business,” he said mysteriously.
Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace Page 19