Her body shook with fright. Never in all her years had she witnessed Silas in such an angry state. She’d gone against her brother’s precise wishes by going to Gideon when he’d forbidden it.
“Let us step outside and speak like gentlemen,” Gideon retorted in a much calmer tone; however, she knew Gideon’s patience would only last so long, especially if her brother continued on with his name-calling. “I am certain we can rectify whatever slight you think I’ve committed.”
Sybil moved to the doorway and peered down the hall toward the foyer. She couldn’t see her brother’s face and only had a clear view of Gideon’s back, his shoulders stiff and his chin raised.
“You’ve single-handedly ruined my sister,” Silas continued. “We should meet outside; however, dawn is a preferable time…and Regent Park an adequate location.”
Was Silas challenging Gideon to a duel?
Sybil couldn’t wait around to find out. She needed to stop the two men she loved from harming one another with anything deadlier than their words.
Rushing from the study, her half boots made no sound as she ran toward the foyer.
Chapter 8
3 April 1816
A stalwart magistrate, an incessant earl, a not-so-innocent maiden, an unsavory Jack Tar, and an indignant—yet furious—viscount…tell me, kind readers, what these five have in common. There is no rhyme or reason to any of it. However, that was the scene, which took place outside Lord Galway’s London townhouse. This author wonders if the next we hear of it will be at dawn—with pistols!
~ Lady X
Let us take matters outside,” Gideon said once more, his voice boomed as if thunder had erupted in his home. However, it brought Lord Lichfield and the man who’d accompanied him to a standstill. He wasn’t certain that moving their confrontation outside was any better, but at least it would not be handled in the presence of the fairer sex. “I am certain we can discuss this matter without being driven to violence.”
Lord Lichfield scoffed. “I should have pursued you all those months ago when you disappeared, leaving my family to shoulder the burden of scandal.”
Sybil’s brother pivoted and walked out the door, then, the other man following closely on his heels. Could Gideon get away with slamming the door shut, throwing the latch, and sneaking Sybil out the back door to the stables, returning her home safely while her brother waited outside Gideon’s townhouse?
That thought was dashed when Sybil appeared at his elbow, slipping her hand into his as she started for the door. Gideon was helpless to do anything but follow her lead.
“You should wait inside.” Gideon drew to a halt and turned to face her. “Allow your brother and me to speak privately. I may be able to change his mind about us.”
He looked down into Sybil’s brown eyes, like melted chocolate as the candles from above danced over her face. “Can we not attempt to change his mind together?”
Perhaps with Sybil present, her brother would be less prone to violence and more likely to remain calm and listen. However, glancing out the door, Gideon saw that Lord Lichfield hadn’t made it but a few steps and now faced him and Sybil, his hands on his hips and his boots shoulder-width apart. If his stance weren’t evidence enough of his fury, then the tightness in his jaw and his noisy, labored breathing was sufficient to give Gideon pause.
“Brother,” Sybil said, donning her most innocent smile as if they were welcoming Lord Lichfield for morning tea. “However did you find me?”
“It wasn’t difficult,” Silas snorted. “I know damned well when I forbid you to do something, it is exactly what you will do.”
“Forbade me to see Gideon? Oh, you did far more than that when you threatened to send me back to France.” The pair glared at one another, and Gideon was hesitant to interrupt. Their expressions said a war of words and wit was eminent; however, their tone remained cordial. “Whoever”—Sybil paused, her stare going to the man at her brother’s side—“is your friend?”
The man, dressed much like many solicitors and businessmen Gideon had encountered, blinked several times before speaking, “I am the Honorable Mr. Augustus St. Paulson. Magistrate for the Westminster borough.”
“A magistrate?” Sybil pulled Gideon ever closer until he felt the length of her pressed to his side. “But we haven’t done anything wrong. Have we?”
“He is only here to make certain you are returned to your family without controversy.”
“Returned…you say that as if I have been taken,” Sybil countered.
“Well, how were Slade or I to know you hadn’t been taken against your will?” Lord Lichfield asked.
“I can assure you, she was not.”
All heads turned toward the door where Charles stepped outside, his cane firmly in hand.
“Who are you?” Lichfield demanded.
“Mr. Charles Smythe—no fancy title or court appointment.” He strode forward to join the group, taking up a place to the right of Sybil as he addressed the magistrate. “May I give my accounting of this evening’s events? I am certain you will see that there was nothing untoward or criminal about Lady Sybil Anson visiting Lord Galway.”
“I suppose that is the way of things.” Mr. St. Paulson pulled a small notebook and pencil nub from his jacket pocket and nodded to Charles. “I am ready.”
Charles cleared his throat, adjusted his neckcloth, and tapped his cane tip against the cobbled driveway. If they’d been anywhere else, if the matter at hand weren’t so grave, and if Gideon hadn’t been staring straight into Lord Lichfield’s enraged eyes, he might have chuckled at his friend’s display.
“Now, Lord Lichfield—henceforth known as the aggrieved party—has no legal standing as Lord Galway—now known as the…well, for lack of a better term since my mind is failing me, the comforted party—did not allow the fair Lady Sybil Anson into his home, I did. When she appeared on his stoop, he did as any gentleman would: he welcomed her into his home after I allowed her entrance. He even provided her with a meal, until, you, Lord Lichfield arrived to collect her. Should he have sent her into the cold, dark, dangerous night?” Sybil chortled, but Charles’ serious stare had her quieting. “I dare say, it is Lord Lichfield who has been negligent when it comes to the welfare and well-being of his sister by allowing her, unchaperoned and unprotected, to gallivant about London—“
Lichfield’s nostrils flared with indignation. “I will have you know—“
“Enough,” Gideon called, slashing his hand through the air. “I have heard quite enough, Charles, but thank you. And magistrate, Lord Lichfield could no more have kept Lady Sybil in the safety of her home as I could have discouraged her from coming to my townhouse. She is a woman with her own mind, and she does not take kindly to anyone, especially me or the earl, commanding her about.” He paused to take in Lichfield’s reaction. While he looked a bit less enraged, his shoulders were still tense, and his fingers balled into tight fists. “However, it is that mind that has stolen my heart completely. I was helpless to turn her away when she appeared earlier, though I knew I should have loaded her into my coach and delivered her home immediately.”
“It is what any gentleman worth his salt as such would have done,” Lichfield seethed. “And now, my sister is ruined. Her reputation is in shambles, and there is no one to blame but you, Lord Galway.”
Gideon’s chest seized at the earl’s harsh tone. He’d wronged and failed so many people in his short life—Charles had been taken, the elder Symthe had died before Gideon brought his son home, Sybil had been mocked and scandalized by his disappearance, and now, he was ruining her all over again.
He owed everyone present an apology; most of all, Sybil, for hers was truly the only opinion that mattered to Gideon.
Without a second thought, Gideon turned toward her, taking both of her hands in his as the cool night breeze ruffled her cloak hem and played with her long, brown tresses. “Lady Sybil”—Gideon held her gaze, fearful to look away—“I intended to arrive at your family home as plan
ned to sign the contracts that would bind us as surely as a wedding ceremony. However, things beyond my control—beyond anyone’s control—took me away from London for over a year. I failed you, and I failed your family, but I saved my dear friend.”
Charles clapped Gideon on the shoulder, but still, he would not take his stare from Sybil’s. He needed her to know and understand—even if her family was unwilling to listen—that he realized he’d disappointed her but was determined to make amends.
“I promise you, Sybil, that I will do all in my power, from this day forward, to prove to you how sorry I am that I failed you. To show you each and every day that my love for you is true and never waning.”
Tears glistened in Sybil’s eyes, and Gideon feared for a brief moment that he’d upset her again, caused her some unintended hurt or anguish.
His heartbeat sped up until he felt the rush through his entire body. “While I owe your family much for protecting you when I could not—especially from the London gossip my disappearance caused—it is now I who should care for you.” Gideon squeezed Sybil’s fingers before bringing her gloved hand to his lips. “Lady Sybil Anson, I have loved you since the day we met. I loved you when miles and circumstances kept us apart. I will love you more and more each day until my last dying breath steals me from this Earth. Will you do me the extreme honor of becoming my wife? My viscountess?”
Gideon sucked in a deep breath and waited, the moments ticking by as they held one another’s gaze. It was no longer Gideon who held her stare, but Sybil making it impossible for him to look away. Without her, he would surely crumble. If she rebuffed his offer, Gideon would not likely survive it. He would be broken, ravished, and unable to go on.
“Well, it appears Lord Galway has satisfied his obligation to correct his slights against this woman’s honor in the eyes of the law,” the magistrate murmured.
Lichfield stomped his foot, taking a step closer to his sister. “Like bloody hell—“
“Yes, Gideon,” Sybil sighed. “I will wed you. For my love never diminished either, not even in your absence.”
Gideon gave a hoot of joy and swept Sybil into his arms—Lord Lichfield be damned—and swung her around. He hadn’t been sure she’d agree to wed him again, especially after everything he put her through.
“I do believe a kiss is proper…to seal the deal as one is wont to say,” Charles called with a laugh. “Come now, Lichfield, you should be happy. Now, you only have that blackguard, Sladeton, to see married. Your responsibility is half completed.”
Gideon chuckled as he halted, Sybil settling before him as she reached up on tiptoes to place her lips against his.
She pulled back quickly, her cheeks flaming at the intimacy displayed before so many. “Gideon, I never doubted this day would come.”
“The moment we would be standing in my drive in the middle of the night with your brother spitting mad, Charles prodding on his anger, and a magistrate present?” Her eyes twinkled as she nodded, her mouth pulling into a wide smile. “Well, I can assure you I never imagined a day such as this.”
The thunder of hooves stampeded down the road beyond, the beasts turning into Gideon’s driveway as the riders pulled to a halt and leapt from their mounts.
“Bloody hell!” Lichfield shouted as he stepped before his sister.
Gideon did the same, pushing Sybil behind him as the pair of newly arrived men sauntered forward.
“What is the meaning of this?” Gideon called.
“We be here on official-like business for Mr. Charles Smythe and Viscount Galway.” The men moved close enough to Gideon for him to take in their attire: threadbare, short trousers, and coats that had seen many days at sea. The salty smell of the open water emanated from the pair as their beady, narrowed eyes trained on him.
“What is your business with them?” Charles asked. “Not that we know where they are, mind you.”
“Mr. Charles Smythe be a deserter—a treacherous crime ta be certain,” one of the men offered as he ran his hand through his oily hair. “Viscount Galway is ta face charges of aid’n ‘im. Both be deemed capital crimes.”
“Capital crimes?” Sybil pushed from behind Gideon and marched forward until she stood nose-to-nose with the man who’d spoken. “Surely, this is a jest.”
The color had drained completely from Charles’ face, and his hand trembled where he held his cane. They’d both known capture was possible, and understood that the punishment would be severe if they were found, but they’d come so far, even spotting a bright light of hope in their futures.
Sybil had agreed to marry him.
But before anything could be done, he was to be ripped away…again…with little chance of returning to her.
“I am Charles Symthe,” his friend stepped forward. “I will go with you willingly.”
“What is going on?” Lichfield demanded. “No one is going anywhere. Not until I find out what this is about.”
The earl looked between Gideon, Sybil, and Charles, waiting for someone to speak.
“Lord Galway disappeared last year because of me,” Charles offered. “I was taken and impressed into service during the war. My ship ported in England, and when Gideon got word, he came for me. If anyone is to blame, it is I, Lord Lichfield, not Gideon.”
“I not be care’n who’s ta blame.” The sailor glanced at his mate and nodded toward Charles. “We’ll take ‘im and come back for the other. Cap’n will be happy nuff with that.”
“You cannot take him.” Sybil lifted her chin as if daring the men to go against her wishes. “I will not allow it.”
“Move out o’ the way, ye Friday-faced light skirt,” the sailor spit out. “We haven’t the time for ye meddle’n.”
Gideon had known Sybil to be headstrong, but her bravery bordered on insanity. The men before her were hardened sailors, likely killers where the need arose. Yet, she did not back down when the oily-haired seaman took a menacing step toward her.
Gideon’s heart froze in his chest as if a sudden ice storm assaulted his entire body, keeping him from moving even the barest of inches. Only feet separated him from Sybil, but it might as well have been the English Chanel.
The sailors both angled their bodies toward Sybil, their narrowed stares enough to bring most grown men to their knees in fear, except Sybil made no move to back down. There was no chance Gideon could reach her before one of the men made to strike her.
Chapter 9
10 April 1816
All’s well that ends well…as the saying goes. I have it on good authority that London will shortly see another wedding shrouded in scandal and mystery with no small amount of intrigue! This author would swoon, but my latest headpiece would not survive the fall, I assure you. I reported over a year ago that the fair Lady Sybil Anson was to wed Lord Galway and, dear readers, I am never wrong.
~ Lady X
Sybil ignored the shiver of apprehension that coursed through her as one of the men attempted to grab her arm with his filthy, calloused, ungloved hands. Deftly, she sidestepped the sailor but did not allow them a clear path to Charles.
In an instant, Gideon was by her side, prepared to protect both Sybil and his friend.
How had she ever thought Gideon a scoundrel? He would gladly sacrifice himself for his friend, and Sybil knew that if she were to fall into evil hands, he’d be there to rescue her, too.
“Do not lay a hand on the lady,” Gideon thundered.
“Step aside. We be collect’n what we came for.”
“You will not be leaving here with anyone.” It was Silas’s deep, stern voice that voiced the words, his tone brooking no argument. He’d stepped forward to stand on the other side of Sybil, making it three people the sailors would need break through in order to get to Charles. “I require your papers, gentlemen.”
The pair glanced at one another when Silas held out his hand and waited, wiggling his fingers to emphasize his demand.
“We not be need’n ta prove anythin’ ta the likes o’ ye.�
� The sailor stood his ground, folding his arms across his chest and spitting at Silas’s feet. “This be a court matter.”
All eyes moved to the spittle that clung to the toe of her brother’s polished Hessian.
“Gentlemen—and I use that term rather loosely…” Silas smiled. It was the same grin Sybil was known to have when she was up to something. “Allow me to introduce the Honorable Mr. Augustus St. Paulson. He is a magistrate in good standing with the courts of England.”
“This be maritime law, ye bloody nob.” Both sailors chuckled, thinking they’d outwitted Silas, but Sybil suspected differently. Her brother rarely embarked on a task unless he was certain he held the upper hand. “Now, move aside already before we be put’n a fist ta ye chin.”
“Without any paperwork on the matter, you are trespassing on my property,” Gideon replied, sending a conspiratorial glance in Silas’s direction.
At some point, things had altered between her brother and Gideon. They’d gone from foes to allies in the blink of an eye. They now had a common objective.
Justice, fairness, loyalty.
Honor.
“Mr. St. Paulson, what say you?” Gideon nodded at the magistrate.
The tall, lanky man swallowed, adjusted his cravat, and cleared his throat—an obviously redundant gesture that filled Sybil with no assurance that the man was up to the task of his position as magistrate.
“We not be care’n what this jackanape be think’n, do we, Donovan?” the man who’d attempted to grab Sybil asked his partner, his lips pulling wide in a grin that showed his rotting teeth. “Been chase’n this swab all ‘cross the country, we have.”
“While I am well versed in the law of the land, I find my jurisdiction to impose rules does not extend to maritime law and that of the British Navy. However, if you have not brought with you any written notice to apprehend and return Mr. Charles Smythe, gentlemen, then I cannot, in good faith of the law of this great land, allow you to leave with him in tow.” The words left St. Paulson on a long exhale, and the man’s shoulders caved in after he’d stated his piece.
The Lady Loves A Scandal_Regency Novella Page 8