by Sue London
He gave her a mock frown. "That strikes you as funny somehow?"
She wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned into him. "You're just making me giddy again, Giddy."
He realized he was indulging in a self-satisfied smile and decided it didn't matter with no one here to see it. Marriage was proving to be nothing at all what he had expected. Although much of that, he knew, was due to how unique his wife happened to be. If he had been trapped in marriage with one of the brainless twits that made up the majority of the Marriage Mart he would have already packed her off to the estate of her choosing. Worse yet, what if it had been one of those scheming materialistic girls who ran through pin money like water and charged outrageous clothing bills to their husbands. Which reminded him that his wife had something of a limited wardrobe and hadn't requested any clothing allowance.
"I should take you shopping," he said.
She sat up at that. "Whatever for?"
"Clothing, for one. I'm sure you didn't have time to assemble a trousseau and I should have seen to that before now."
"It's a small matter. We can wait until we're back in London."
Neither brainless nor materialistic, his wife.
"There is one thing, though," she said, plucking at his sleeve absently.
"What's that?"
"I was hoping... That is to say, if it wouldn't be too expensive."
"Out with it. Are we back to the rings and diamond bracelets again?"
She laughed. "No. I was hoping that perhaps we could buy Tyche, my horse, from my father."
"He won't just give it to you?"
Her brows furrowed. "He wants to, but I've told him to sell her."
"Well if you want her then why did --" He broke off as he realized what her words hinted at. The Walters were not in a position to carelessly give away something as precious as prime horseflesh. And their daughter knew it.
"How long have you had Tyche?"
That question relaxed her. "Oh, forever. She was out of Charlie's Black Bitterroot and Dancing Fool, one of his early breeding attempts. He gave her to me for my tenth birthday but she had to grow up and be trained. I didn't ride her until I was twelve."
Having his daughter insist on selling her beloved horse to help fill the family coffers was probably causing Walters no small amount of shame and disappointment. "I'll talk to your father," Gideon said. "I'm sure we can arrive at an agreement."
She hugged on his arm. "Thank you, Giddy, that would mean the world to me."
His wife was oddly easy to please. To have her horse, to help her family, to have breakfast together with him in the morning. Perhaps if someone had explained what marriage could truly be like he wouldn't have avoided it all this time. Although it couldn't have been like this with anyone other than the woman beside him.
For the rest of the ride to the vicarage Gideon told her stories about the swampy lands around them. About the dangers that lurked in the murky waters of the marsh, and the smugglers known as owlers who had run in roughshod gangs over the lands in past centuries. That made him think again about the rumors he had heard in London. Perhaps he would have Philip make some inquiries while they were here, just to ensure that no one on his lands was involved in the smuggling.
He found they arrived at the vicarage much more quickly than he might have hoped. He would have been happy if the afternoon of sunshine, old stories, and his adoring wife could have lasted forever.
Jack's first impression of the stately old vicarage was that it certainly looked too small to house a family of nine in addition to the vicar's family. They were expected and the vicar himself came out to greet them. She assumed her considerate husband had sent a footman over to give the families time to prepare.
The vicar was a spare man, a few inches short of Jack's own height, with sparse blonde hair and a ready smile. He greeted his new countess with the proper mix of enthusiasm and decorum and bowed them into his home where his matronly wife greeted them at the door. They repaired to the sitting room where the Hobbes were waiting, all scrubbed clean and in what was probably the finest of their poor clothes. The youngest was still a babe in arms and Mrs. Hobbes clutched the child to her bosom as she made her awkward curtsy. The woman was thin to the point of sharpness, no doubt from skipping meals to feed the young ones. All of the children aside from the babe curtsied and bowed, looking quite overwhelmed to be in the presence of both an earl and his countess. The seating was limited and the youngest children sat on the floor at their mother's feet, clutching at her skirts.
As the vicar's wife, Mrs. Bycroft, served tea to everyone, Jack began to feel the stirrings of panic. The simple pleasantries were at an end and soon, as the highest-ranking female in the room, she would be expected to direct the conversation. She wished fervently that she were someone other than herself. Either of the other Haberdashers would do splendidly in this situation, although it failed her imagination to guess exactly what they would do. If she knew then she could at least try to emulate them. As the last little child was handed a plate with a cake, which was of course quite pleasing to the tyke, Jack knew that her opportunities for stalling were at an end.
"Thank you for hosting us, Vicar and Mrs. Bycroft. And eversomuch for opening your home to the Hobbes during this difficult time."
"It's the Lord's work," Vicar Bycroft volunteered cheerfully, "we're happy to do it."
Mrs. Hobbes flushed and rocked the baby on her shoulder, obviously embarrassed to be in this situation. Jack turned her attention to the woman. "Mrs. Hobbes, I'm sorry to hear of the loss of your husband last year. You must be very proud of the efforts your sons put into keeping the farm going all this time."
"And me," the oldest girl said.
"Keep civil, Emmy," her mother admonished, flushing an almost alarming shade of scarlet.
"Oh," said Jack to the rebellious looking Emmy, "you also worked the fields?"
The girl nodded, not wanting to test the stern eye her mother had bent on her by speaking again.
"Hm," Jack said. "With such a large farm I'm sure that everyone had chores to do. Perhaps you could each tell me one thing you did on the farm."
Between the cake and opportunity to speak the children were well entertained. Each child did indeed have at least one chore to report, down to the seventh, who at no more than three years old was responsible for the sweeping.
"Well, your mother must be proud of all of you then," Jack said, which prompted Mrs. Hobbes to speak.
"Indeed I am," the thin mother replied and for a moment Jack glimpsed the woman as she must have been before her husband died. Proud, confident, and by the sound of her voice a bit more educated than most country folk. Her four oldest children sat quietly on the settee next to her, hands folded in laps. The three youngest other than the babe sat at her feet with a bit less decorum and sucked on fingers or twiddled hair. Jack knew with a certainty that it would be a mistake to make this mother work and have the oldest daughter care for the children. The heart would go out of this family as sure as anything.
As Travis, the oldest boy, had spoken of caring for the draft horses Jack asked him, "Do you like horses, then?"
"Yes, my lady, more than anything."
His brother Gordon, next to him, rolled his eyes a bit. Since Gordon had spoken about how he planned the planting schedule Jack asked him, "Why did they look to you to plan out the planting?"
He blinked and answered as though it were obvious, "I'm the only one who understands it."
"Oh? What does one need to understand?"
He furrowed his young brow as though she were trying to ask him a trick question. "Crop rotations, weather patterns, and potential sales returns in the market for the crops that can be grown."
Jack could scarce believe the child talking to her was twelve years old. His grasp of the complexities of a farming life obviously far exceeded her own.
"My only regret," he admitted, "was not knowing how much work a hundred acres of grain could be."
"And
you couldn't predict the insects," Emmy said loyally. Travis nodded sad agreement.
After another fifteen minutes of pleasantries the earl and countess took their leave of the Bycrofts and Hobbes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Once the phaeton had drawn away from the vicarage some distance Jack turned to Gideon. "Is there a cottage somewhere on our lands where Mrs. Hobbes could live?"
"Even if there were she couldn't afford the rents."
"She can if we take her four oldest into service at Kellington."
Gideon raised a brow at her. "Oh? And what do you suggest they can do?"
"Travis for the stables and perhaps as a tiger. Mary for the kitchens. Did you see how proud she was of cooking for the family?"
"And the other two?"
"Well, you've been complaining that Philip's greatest weakness is not understanding farming and he can’t help the farmers learn the latest agricultural innovations. Gordon seems like he would be a natural to learn and share changes that could make the land more productive."
Gideon mulled this over. "His father was well-respected among the men so his name could go a long way in this part of the country. But he's only a twelve year old boy so it would be a considerable investment of time and education."
"And meanwhile he can serve as Philip's assistant, traveling to the farms and assessing how the land is currently used. Certainly his observations would be superior to Philip's who grew up inside the walls of Kellington."
"And for the oldest daughter?"
Jack smiled. "She will be my companion."
"Your companion?"
"Indeed. Do you have any idea how difficult it would be finding a companion for an eccentric countess who prefers riding, archery, and swordplay to shopping and gossip?"
"You need a companion?"
"Will you practice swords with me?"
"Of course not."
"As well I guessed. If Emmy Hobbes doesn't take to martial hobbies I'll eat my hat."
"You trust an eleven year old girl to control a sword safely?"
"Well, she is getting a bit of a late start but we can begin with wood sabres and tipped foils. It will be safe enough."
"How old were you when you started practicing?"
"Eight,” she said. “That was the summer we formed our club."
"A sword club?"
Jack grinned. "No, a boys club."
"A boys club?” Gideon asked, raising a brow. “Why did you form a boys club?"
"Because boys always get to do the really fun things. Like climb trees, race horses, and fight."
Gideon thought about it for a moment. "Madam, I think I find you disturbing."
Jack chuckled.
"So that's why you all have boy's names? Because you are a boys club?"
"Exactly. It was easy for Georgianna and I since our families gave us feminine versions of male names, but Sabre was quite clever in her nickname."
"Indeed. So, who is the leader of your boys club?"
"Sabre."
"Not even a hesitation."
"Of course not. She's like a tiny, beautiful Wellington."
"Not Napoleon?"
"Do not insult my friend by comparing her to Old Boney," she said with a sniff.
"Regardless of how we English feel about him he is a brilliant leader." Gideon quirked a grin. "And tiny."
Jack snorted. "Well, I'll leave it to you if you want to tell Sabre that comparison."
"I think that Mr. Miller said your club had a name?"
"The Haberdashers."
"Odd name, isn't it?"
"Oddly appropriate. How did it come up?"
"He said that all of you were his sisters. Thought that as your husband I must have heard of it."
"Yes, well, we've hardly had time to become acquainted have we?"
"So it would seem. Should I search my brain for trivia and salacious secrets in the hopes of telling you before one of my friends does?"
"Do I even know any of your friends other than the duke?"
"I've spent more than a fair share of my time with Robert and Charlie Bittlesworth."
Jack laughed. "Oh, that's funny. Have you? I don't remember them mentioning you at all. Have you known them long?"
"Oh, perhaps six years or so now."
"Six years? Then perhaps you are that reprobate Lord Lucifer!" she exclaimed with a laugh.
"Guilty as charged," Gideon agreed with a grin.
Jack felt her heart tumble in her chest. Lord Lucifer was the nickname Robert and Charlie used for the gentleman who had introduced them to some of the seedier aspects of London. When questioned by their father over their conduct, which had included at least one arrest each and numerous other scrapes requiring intervention, Charlie would quip "the devil made us do it." The only name they used to refer to the man was Lord Lucifer, a moniker that they had apparently shared with him. And a nickname that didn't seem to bother him in the least as he still sat as relaxed and happy guiding the team as he had been before the revelation. Swallowing her shock Jack sat back against the cushions and stared straight ahead. Perhaps she really didn't know her husband. This revelation was most unwelcome. "Is it true that you would sometimes take them to up to three whorehouses in a single night?"
At that Gideon's brow drew down into a severe line. "Why did they tell you that?"
"There were a lot of things that they didn't tell us directly but we found out anyway."
"Why on earth would you want to spy on the Biddlesworth brothers?"
"Because they were our heroes. We wanted to be them. Until Lord Lucifer."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better there isn't a mean bone in either of their bodies. It's hard to say which of them is the better chap."
Jack glanced over at her husband. His hair had become unruly again in the breeze and he had turned back his sleeves in the heat, the casual dishabille making him look the pirate. What had just an hour ago been attractive now made her apprehensive. It seemed he was the rogue and reprobate that she had accused him of being when first they met. "Then why did you drag them all over the darker side of London? And why did they go with you?"
"Sometimes a good man likes to test himself to see if he has a darker side."
She wasn't sure if he was referring to himself, the Bittlesworths, or all of them. The rest of the ride home was spent in quiet contemplation of the scenery. And trying to reconcile the man she was coming to know with the dark shadow known by the name Lord Lucifer.
As Gideon prepared for dinner he considered his wife's reaction to his role in the Bittlesworth brothers' lives. She didn't seem to approve of his influence, although in his defense they had all grown up quite a bit over the last six years. He was now both a staunch ally and trusted advisor to the younger men. They weren't as close now as they had once been since they no longer caroused so much. It was at least two years ago when they had last all gone to a gaming hell. Gideon had become more serious about his role in Parliament, Robert in his work with the Foreign Office, and Charlie had focused on his horses. But Robert knew that Gideon would support any of his requests that might come to the House of Lords. And Charlie knew that Gideon could always be counted on for a referral at Tattersall's. Gideon had even purchased two of Charlie's colts himself to encourage bidding. Honestly, he refused to feel guilty about his role in their lives. They were free to do what they liked, regardless of how they had blamed Lord Lucifer. At the time it had seemed an amusing lark to be the “cause” of their mischief. He hadn't expected in his wildest dreams that one of the people who would think ill of it would become his wife. He had, after all, only put a bit of town bronze on two very green boys. And it wasn't like he was the worst of the lot among the ton. There were a number of men he could name who were truly depraved! He paused as he straightened his cuff. There was that. He had familiarity enough with the whorehouses and gaming hells of London to know of such depravity and the men who practiced it. He shook his head and giving his coat one final brush went to his
wife's chambers to escort her. She was nowhere to be found, and when he queried Lara was told that she had already gone downstairs. So that's how it was to be.
When he entered the drawing room it was to Jacqueline's throaty laugh. She had her hand on Mr. Miller's arm and Philip Gladstone, whom Gideon had asked to join them this evening to make seating arrangements even, had turned his puppy-like adoration on her. It took a good deal of restraint not to pull the younger men away from her. Really, he had never been possessive of a woman before, once even trading off mistresses with Robert. But that rational reflection didn't keep his blood from boiling and his collar to seem suddenly tight, undoubtedly from his muscles clenching. Was it going to be worth a lifetime of this? Wanting to beat off admirers with a cane while his wife laughed and flirted with apparent innocence? It was hard to believe that she was as unaware of her impact on men as she claimed. He wanted to think that the adoring gazes she gave him were genuine, but she was now charming Mr. Miller and Mr. Gladstone with similar looks. He was burning with jealousy. He wished that he'd had Dibbs announce him if only to break the concentration of the small laughing group. Mr. Miller noticed him first and the bow he made for the earl alerted the other two to his presence. It disturbed him that Jacqueline's expression of joy drained to one of blank politeness when she saw him. He wished that he could dismiss the two men at her side so that he and his wife could have out whatever argument was brewing here. She walked toward him and held his eyes as he bowed over her hand. She seemed as cold and distant as he had ever seen her.