At the satisfied look that came over Benjamin, Elizabeth fixed him with a look of her own. "Your brother has been very kind, and I would not repay that kindness except with my thanks," she said pointedly. "Although, there is one thing I would do for him, to truly thank him."
Sebastian sat forward, his expression urging her on.
"I would ask that you either stay here with Gideon, or else take him with you when you leave," Elizabeth said firmly.
"What?" The two men exchanged sharp glances.
"Why?" Benjamin demanded.
"I think, because you came so promptly when his letters changed, that you know why."
Both men had the grace to look discomfitted.
"He has everything, the estate, the servants, the weight of everything on his shoulders," Elizabeth continued. "It is a weight that ought to be shared, not borne alone."
"We are well aware of that," Benjamin said crossly, his shoulders moving in agitation under his uniform coat. "The only one who does not know it is Gideon."
"That is not true," Sebastian said, his mouth downturned for once. "He knows it. He just does not know how to stop being in charge, to take a breath and be free of it for a day, or a week, or a month. Imagine if Gideon could be unworried for a month! He would be a changed man."
Elizabeth sat forward in her chair, feeling growing excitement. "Take him with you, to London or Brighton. Or abroad, if you can! I can imagine Gideon in Rome or Greece. He would like the sea, I think."
"How well you seem to know him," Benjamin said drolly. "How long is it you have known him? No, do not answer, it does not signify. Let me tell you instead, that you ask us to move a mountain, Miss Elizabeth," Benjamin went on, rising from his chair and shaking his head. He crossed his hands behind his back, a habit very like Gideon's. "Do you think we have not tried to wrestle Gideon from this pile of bricks before? He is convinced the entire earth will cease to spin if he leaves here for so little as a day."
"Oh," Elizabeth said, feeling deflated.
"As to that"—Sebastian crossed one leg over the other, allowing the topmost to begin to swing in a small, insouciant arc—"perhaps Miss Elizabeth has powers of persuasion we do not?" He glanced up at his brother.
Benjamin turned to give Elizabeth another of his abrupt stares, his features marked by a curious mix of doubt and hope. "Perhaps," he conceded. "Gideon certainly thinks well of you, that much is clear." He straightened his shoulders. "Would you speak with him? Do your best to convince him of a holiday?"
"Yes," Elizabeth said at once.
Both brothers exchanged glances again, and Benjamin resumed his seat. "Perhaps we should tell you Gideon's history, that your powers of persuasion might be heightened," he said, and Sebastian nodded agreement.
They told her much she already knew, about their blustering, bullying father, a man poorly suited to affect any good in their mentally fragile mother. About how Gideon, from a tender age, had protected his mama and saw to her welfare until her death.
"Do you know about the one time Mama was a patient in the asylum?"
Elizabeth shook her head. 'The one that burned?" she asked.
"Yes, we saw that as we drove past," Sebastian said. "And good riddance to it."
"That very one," Benjamin confirmed.
They told her that their mother had gone into some manner of decline when Gideon was around the age of eight. Their father, in typical response, had sent her to recover at the asylum. Gideon had insisted on visiting her, and when he came home again, Benjamin remembered his brother was white around the mouth, both from horror and rage.
"I never knew exactly what he saw there, for even in later years Gideon would not speak of it, other than to confirm our mama had been fixed to her bed with ankle chains to keep her from wandering the asylum wards. And she'd had nothing but one meager blanket wrapped around her as she'd waited for her clothes to dry following a dunking in a cold-water bath. Cold-water baths," Benjamin said, his face tight with disdain and doubt, "being frequent. They are supposed to shock the patien back into sensibility."
Sebastian took up the tale, explaining that Gideon had gone into their father's library, and although he was too young to re member it himself, Sebastian explained that raised voices had been heard. Gideon had received a caning for daring to shout at his father, and Papa had refused the boy's demands that Mama be returned home.
"Gideon stopped eating. Completely," Benjamin said, and there were echoes of those strident times in his eyes as he spoke. Father said "let him starve", and he did. I tried to take food to him, sneaking it from the table in my pockets, but Gideon would not eat. 'I should rather starve than eat from a table that does not feed my mother,' he said to me, to the servants, to the doctor who was called in a week later, to our father. Over and over again. They spoke of forcing food into Gideon . . ." Benjamin's voice trailed away, and Elizabeth thought she saw a shudder course up his spine.
Sebastian took up the tale. "That is when Gideon began haunting our father. He would just stand before him, gaunt-faced, saying nothing, just staring. He received another caning, and then the doctor came and took Gideon away from the house. The doctor came again, two days later. Again there were shouts in the library. But the next day, Gideon and Mama both came home."
"And both ate at the table," Benjamin said. He gave a small, bitter laugh. "Although Gideon could only eat a half cup of broth and a single bite of bread. It took weeks for his appetite to return."
"But Mama never returned to the asylum," Sebastian said quietly.
"No, she never did," Benjamin agreed. He sighed. "Unfortunately, Gideon never lost that stubborn streak. He has it yet. It is what keeps him here, what keeps him from letting us help him."
Elizabeth looked up sharply. "You have offered to help?"
"Of course." Sebastian scowled. "But for all intents and purposes he has had the reins of this household in his hands since he was eight years old! He does not know how to apportion duty. I think he fears he is like Mama, that if he releases even a hint of control, he will begin to disintegrate."
"Gideon," Elizabeth said on a near whisper, a lump forming in her throat as she remembered the shadows she had seen in his silvered eyes.
"Yes, our stubborn, dutiful Gideon." Benjamin stared into the ashes of last night's fire on the grate. Sebastian rose to ring for a servant, murmuring about requiring something to eat after their travels.
Elizabeth lapsed into her own musing. Meeting Benjamin and Sebastian did not make her own leaving less painful, but she was glad, more than glad, that Gideon's brothers had returned. It seemed clear they would do all they could to break Gideon free of the prison this house had become for him.
Did the childhood tale, or his brothers' concern, prove Gideon was not mad like his mama? No. Certainly Society thought the man had inherited her terrible legacy. But Society had not spent any time in his company, had not looked into his compassionate gaze, had not seen the good Gideon did, that he could not seem to keep himself from doing even at a terrible cost to his own peace of mind. Elizabeth had seen these things ... and if they were signs of madness, then let Society be entirely overrun by such madmen, for the world could use more men of Gideon's ilk.
Frick entered, rather than the servant with a luncheon tray whom Elizabeth had expected. A frown creased his face.
"What is it?" Benjamin asked, sounding as concerned as Elizabeth abruptly felt.
"A caller," Frick said, "a man who claims no acquaintance with Lord Greyleigh, but who insists he will wait in the entry for my lord, no matter how long it takes for him to return."
"His name?" Sebastian asked, also not smiling for once.
"Mr. Radford Barnes," Frick said.
Elizabeth sank back hard in her chair, black spots whirling before her eyes.
Chapter 18
Gideon pulled up his horse, realizing there was a second carriage in the drive before his home. It bore no crest, but it was a private vehicle, not one for hire. It seemed today was a day
for callers.
He dismounted, lightheartedly tossing his reins to the nearest groom, who caught them with a grin. "Extra oats, m'lord?"
"Extra oats," Gideon confirmed, thinking the contentment he felt must be showing, or at least contagious. He had learned two things at the alderman's house, not just what must be done with this young woman calling herself Lily. He could not wait to tell Elizabeth what he suspected he knew.
He hurried from the stables to the rear of the house, hearing Benjamin's deep voice rumbling, then Frick's voice, sounding strained. Gideon came upon the butler just as the man announced, "Mr. Radford Barnes."
"Who?" Gideon said, stepping around Frick to follow in the wake of the dark-haired man who preceded him into the library. A quick glance proved there were equally blank faces on Sebastian and Benjamin as the dark-haired man bowed to them. They offered shallow bows in return.
"Mr. Radford Barnes," Frick repeated unhelpfully. "The ... person insisted he must see you, my lord."
Gideon glanced at Elizabeth, and suddenly his good mood evaporated. He strode across the room, taking up her hand, alarmed by the lack of color in her face. "My dear!"
Elizabeth looked at him with horror in her eyes, in the way she held her shoulders. She was absolutely mute, her throat working without making a single sound. It was a simple thing to deduce who had just entered Gideon's library.
"Frick, please leave us and close the door," Gideon said, aware his voice had dropped to a growl.
Frick did as he was bid, collecting Radford Barnes's hat and gloves as he went out. The dark-haired, rather handsome man sauntered further into the room. "Lord Greyleigh," he said, beginning to bow, but then his vision settled on Elizabeth, and he offered her a bow as well.
"It is you!" Mr. Barnes said to Elizabeth. "I thought from what they said in the pubs that it had to be you, but I scarce dared hope."
"Hope?" Elizabeth rasped, her voice trembling. "You left me for dead in that ditch."
Gideon's gaze flew to take in the other man's reaction, now that it was confirmed this was the knave who had ruined and abandoned Elizabeth to her fate.
Gideon was across the room in a flash, the other man pinned against the wall next to the door, his coat caught in Gideon's two hands as Gideon shook the man like the cur Barnes was. "You have no business here," Gideon growled, even as his brothers crowded around him, their postures declaring they were prepared to support any action he chose. "Get out!"
"Not so quickly, Greyleigh," Barnes managed to get out even though there was a fist against his voice box. "That woman is my wife!"
Elizabeth made a strangled sound of protest, and Gideon pressed more firmly against the man's throat. Benjamin made a noise of disapproval, and Sebastian's face creased into lines of shock and puzzlement.
"Gideon," said Sebastian, "I do not know your quarrel with this man, but I would like to suggest he might not be worth the punishment of incarceration or hanging should you happen to kill him. I suggest you let him go, and that we escort him from the property. After a proper thrashing, if you like."
"Tell them," Gideon said to Barnes, giving him one final shake before letting the man go. "Tell them she is not your wife at all, you lying blackguard."
"Well, perhaps not in actual fact, not yet," Barnes said, putting a hand to his throat, from which issued the raspy words.
He flinched when Gideon made as if to seize him again, and quickly added, "But her stepmama wishes her to be."
"Stepmama?" Elizabeth echoed, and if color had been returning to her face, it was now gone again.
"Yes," Barnes said, straightening his cravat and the lie of his coat. "She has been visiting in Bath, and she saw me, unfortunately. I was forced to explain our, er, parting of the ways, my dear, and she was most displeased. She could not like what our .. . disassociation might mean to her consequence."
Barnes gave Gideon a long stare, then stepped to one side, where he could clearly see Elizabeth. "My dear, your stepmama has settled a handsome dowry on you. Our financial worries are past, so that now we can concentrate on cementing our bond, as she is most eager to see us do. Therefore, I now ask you to be my wife."
Gideon felt his jaw clench and his hands curl into fists, and it was all he could do not to smash Barnes's nose down his throat.
"Steady," Benjamin cautioned in his ear, a hand on Gideon's punching arm.
As awful as it was, Gideon had to admit that this offer by Barnes for Elizabeth would solve a great number of her difficulties. No one need ever know her elopement with Barnes had never ended in marriage. She would not be ruined. She could resume her position in Society. The two could lead entirely separate lives, living in different cities if they liked, taking lovers while living under the protection of the married state. Elizabeth would be foolish not to comply with her stepmama's scheme.
Do not do it, Gideon wanted to scream.
Elizabeth did not rise, but there was something in her posture, a lifting of the shoulders, a gleam in her eyes that made her seem to grow taller. It was clear she considered every word Barnes had spoken, that she realized the same advantages that Gideon had. All eyes fixed on her, awaiting her answer.
"You are lying," she said to Barnes, clearly, unemotionally.
"I assure you, I am not," Barnes protested, beginning to scowl.
"Yes, you are. As to my stepmama being humiliated by what has happened to me, that much is true. But what matters a step-daughter's foolishness? It has nothing to do with her, as she did not raise me. It is no reflection on her. She would be content enough to disown me. And Francine would never ask my father for the funds necessary to satisfy your excessive and craven needs, Radford. She does not love me well enough to be foolishly blackmailed on my account."
A hush fell over the room, a thick silence in which the clock on the mantel could be heard ticking.
"You only want your ring back," Elizabeth said, glancing down at the hand that no longer bore it. When she looked up again, there was fire in her gaze. "Once you had it from me, you would abandon me again. But that will never happen. I have the ring locked away, Radford. I will never give you the one piece of proof that you have lied to and deceived me." Her voice rose, becoming a command. "You will never speak of our association, never, or I shall take your ring to a magistrate who will force you to explain your actions in a court of law. When you have no defense against what you have done to me, you will find yourself in Newgate, where I will be happy to think of you rotting away."
"Elizabeth!" Gideon whispered in astonishment, knowing the truth when he heard it. proud of her for seeing past this man's lies and manipulations, proud of her for showing so little of the dread and aggravation she must be feeling. Many another woman would have succumbed to the hope of redemption, would have seized an offer of reputation-saving marriage, but not Elizabeth. Elizabeth's redemption would be of her own making.
Barnes glared down at her, any loverlike vestiges erased from his face. "You are exactly right, my dear. I want the ring. And I still know how to obtain it from you, how to make you hand it over to me. Have you forgot your sister?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes, as though he had struck her.
"I can still ruin her prospects with Mr. Broderick Mainworthy," Barnes said, his upper lip curling into a feral smile.
Gideon started to step forward, his hands curling as though to shape around Barnes's neck, but Benjamin grabbed him and held him back. "In war, it is best to know everything before you attack," he said, his quiet words scarcely making it through the fury fogging Gideon's brain.
"Do what you must," Elizabeth said to Barnes, rising from her chair to meet Barnes's stare, holding on to the small nearby table to maintain her balance. 'To abet evil is to become evil, and not even for Lorraine can I allow myself to become like you, Radford Barnes. I must hope that Mr. Mainworthy is a more honorable and admirable man than are you, that he knows what love is."
"You are a fool to wager your future and your sister's against that flimsy hope,
" Barnes said angrily, preparing to depart. He crossed the room to stand before her, and before Gideon could move to intercept him, had already whispered something fiercely to her.
"Were I him," Sebastian said in his own whisper, "I would be threatening to make her father pay even more, to protect both daughters." His lip curled in distaste as he glanced again at Barnes.
"If I were such an ass as him, so would I." Benjamin said on a glower. With the hand not holding Gideon's arm, Benjamin reached to his belt, which normally would support the military sword he wore, but which he had naturally left in Frick's care upon entering the house.
Gideon glanced at Benjamin's gesture and shook his head. "Sebastian was right. This halfwit is not worth killing."
He shrugged off his brother's hand and crossed to Elizabeth's side. He stood between her and Barnes, forcing the other man to take a step back, and then another. Gideon brought up his right hand curled in a fist that he held before Barnes's face. "This scapegrace is not even worth hitting," he sneered directly into Barnes's face. "Not that I will let that stop me."
Gideon threw a short, sharp blow directly to Barnes's mouth, sending the man reeling backward, blood instantly gushing from a cut on his lip.
"You bastard!" Barnes lisped, blood all over the hand he pressed to his mouth.
Sebastian tossed the man his handkerchief. "Lud's sake, man, you are getting blood all over the carpet," he scolded. "Have you no manners?"
Gideon turned his back on Barnes, ignoring the stinging in his knuckles from the blow, and stepped back to Elizabeth's side. He took up both of Elizabeth's hands, gazing into her face.
"Elizabeth." he said with quiet firmness, "there is a way to thwart this cretin, if you wish it. and that is if you marry."
She shook her head emphatically. "I would never marry him. not now I know what manner of man he is."
'That is not what I meant. Will you marry me?"
The Misfit Marquess Page 22