Six Weeks With a Lord

by Eve Pendle

  Grace followed and fell into step with Caroline. It was time to move on. She couldn’t dwell on the end of Everett and her forever. There was essential work to do for her brother. She thought about the piles of court proceedings on the little table. “Could we go back now?”

  Caroline narrowed her eyes. “Only if you actually eat something at dinner. And come for a walk tomorrow.”

  “Very well.” One day at a time. She would live through the end of her life one painful day at a time. And when Henry was finally safe, well, that really would be the end.

  …

  George looked like a man beaten when Everett arrived at his house the next day. His coat was rumpled and his shirt surprisingly dirty for eleven in the morning. As though he’d slept in it.

  “It’s good of you to come, but you’re too late,” George muttered. “It’s gone to shit.”

  Everett froze. He’d dwelt in his own misery while his brother was in mortal danger. “She’s pressing ahead with the divorce, then,” he said in an undertone.

  “No.” George shook his head wearily.

  Relief crashed over him like a wave onto a shore.

  “She wants a separation and to take her own lovers.” The unhappiness on George’s face made the tide of his relief recede.

  “I thought you would offer not to see—”

  “I can’t.” George’s voice cracked. “I love…”

  Everett restrained his sigh. “And Sarah?” He’d assumed it would be a simple matter of persuading George to see sense, but it was never that simple.

  “I love her, too.” George slumped forward, elbows on the scuffed knees of his trousers.

  “But she isn’t trying to get a divorce. That’s good, surely?” He tried for encouraging, but suspected his tone was insufferable.

  His brother shook his head awkwardly. “She’s been seen with a man. A rake. A brawny idiot with a revolutionaries’ mustache.” He sat up slowly and indicated his slight frame. “How can I compare?”

  “Clothes and children?” The brotherly dig was unfair, but Everett still made it.

  George shot him a look of derision. “That didn’t work for you, either, it seems.”

  “No.” Everett managed to say, despite the blood pounding in his ears. He didn’t think he could bear it if Grace had been seen with a rake. The need to shoot the man, irrational though that might be, was sure to overwhelm him. “It didn’t work out well for either of us.

  “The family curse.” George shook his head, his eyes bleak.

  “More than you’d know.” Everett recounted his conversation with the dowager.

  “She told you to come to London?” George asked incredulously when Everett had finished.

  “Yes.” Maybe George could see that he needed to mend his tie to his wife.

  “I—”

  A light rap sounded at the door and Charles Baysleigh sauntered in, not waiting for an invitation.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Fire rose up Everett’s throat. He’d lost his wife, and Charles casually entered the house George was incredibly lucky to still share with his wife. “Are you trying to get yourselves killed?” How could George be so blind and selfish? He had a wife who had stayed with him, albeit under terms he couldn’t imagine for his own marriage, and he threw it away on this other man. And he endangered them all by being so brazen.

  Charles lowered himself into the armchair next to George’s and leaned back as if he did this every day. “Sitting here. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “You.” Everett rounded on Charles. Maybe a better man than him would ignore Charles, but it was more than Everett was capable of right now. “How can you be here after you wrecked his marriage?” He gestured at George.

  Charles’s eyes narrowed. His tone was hard, with none of its insouciance of a moment ago. “I was around before his marriage.”

  Didn’t they all know it. “You thought you’d just come along and ruin his chance at happiness and get you both hanged.” He didn’t know whom he was more furious with: George for being unfaithful to Sarah, or Charles for luring him.

  George scraped the stubble of his cheek with his hand and shook his head. His eyes were tortured with indecision.

  Everett needled George with a look. “You’re taking an insane risk here. If this gets out…” He gestured at the window. He didn’t have to say anything else, they all knew what he meant. “And moreover, you’re damaging my chances of happiness, too.”

  “What do you mean?” Charles asked cautiously.

  He gritted his teeth. “The custody of my wife’s brother is with another lord.” As he gave them the abridged story, Charles watched intently and George’s forehead crinkled.

  “Well, you ought to have a fair chance,” George said when Everett had finished. “This Rayner sounds immoral. Your reputation is good. Chancery will grant you guardianship eventually.”

  “Not if my brother is being tried for sodomy,” he bit back.

  “It won’t come to that.” George sighed, eyes downcast. “Sarah threatened, but she’s being quite… Reasonable now.” His face said exactly how difficult he found it that “reasonable” included her taking other lovers.

  Charles was silent, his face so expressionless, it had to be entirely false.

  “It’s probably a vain effort.” Everett couldn’t allow George to think it was better than it was, or that it was entirely George’s fault if he couldn’t get custody of Henry. His brother was clearly in his own purgatory. “We haven’t the money. I came to ask you if you know anyone close to the queen.” His laugh was cynical. It had seemed so likely yesterday that his socialite brother would know someone close to the queen, who could pass on the letter held in his breast pocket. But he’d forgotten Charles Baysleigh. The circles George was frequenting now weren’t likely to be salubrious. “There’s no money to pay for Chancery.”

  “Maybe it won’t be as expensive as you think.” George’s expression showed the same unconvinced hope Everett felt himself.

  “I could speak to my godmother.” Charles folded his arms. “If you like.”

  Everett looked over at Charles and shook his head in disbelief. Hadn’t he been listening at all? “What good would that do? Does she have a spare twenty thousand she wants to give me?”

  “No.” Charles looked at him as though he was a dim student. “Mother was a lady in waiting to the queen. The queen is my godmother.”

  For a moment, he just stared at Charles. It was like spending years searching for Excalibur, then having it insouciantly handed to you by a man you thought was your enemy. Grace had said privilege was a cloak, but it wasn’t just that. It was access to weapons, and part of his armory was that his brother’s lover knew the queen.

  Everett stood. “George, get pen and paper. Charles, write to her.”

  A hint of a mocking smile appeared at the corners of Charles’s mouth. “I take it you’ve withdrawn your objection to me.”

  Through the fog of his own troubles, the insecurities of George’s lover were suddenly before him. “I’ve never objected to you. Is that really what you think?”

  Charles lowered his eyelids sardonically.

  “I just don’t want anyone hurt, in body or mind.” He held out his hand to Charles. “Be careful. That’s all I ask.”

  Slowly, Charles looked at his hand, then reached up and took it in a firm grip.

  “Thank you.” Everett pulled him up from the chair and clapped him on the back. He pulled the letter, carefully written on a writing box during the hours on the train, from his pocket. “I’d like you to enclose this and request her to read it.”

  If the queen read his letter, she would help, he knew it. Then, there was just be the small issues of his brother’s debt to the Lawsons and persuading Grace to agree to be his wife.

  …

  Earl Rayner’s residence, when Everett pulled up to the front of it, was an imposing house built in the French style, large but simple in its construction. Upon giving hi
s name, he was shown into a reception room almost big enough to be a ballroom, with floor-to-ceiling tapestries of hunting scenes. It was a room designed to intimidate, and Everett made himself comfortable in a chair next to the fireplace.

  Lord Rayner kept him waiting for nearly an hour. Easily long enough for any other man to work himself into a frenzy of worry and nerves.

  Rayner eventually sauntered in, cigarette in hand. He was younger than Everett had remembered, good-looking and relaxed in a lounge suit. When he’d visited before, Everett’s mind had been so full of concern for Grace, he hadn’t noted the appearance of the man causing the problem.

  “You’ve come around, then.” Rayner wandered over to where Everett was seated. “I can’t blame you for wanting to get rid of her. She is a baggage.” He took a deep draw and then exhaled the smoke just above Everett’s scalp. The smell of tobacco was familiar and yet Everett’s stomach wanted to revolt.

  Everett let the smoke disperse a little to compose himself before he said, “I have a copy of a letter here that concerns you.”

  Rayner took a deep draw on his cigarette and appeared jaded.

  Everett took the letter from his pocket and held it out. “Don’t bother destroying it. The solicitor, Mr. Salcombe, has the original for safekeeping.”

  Rayner leaned forward and snatched the letter from his hand. As he read, his expression went from self-assured to distaste. “This is ridiculous. It’s all lies.” He tossed the letter onto the floor.

  So was this man’s whole façade of goodness. Everett didn’t feel any sympathy for anyone who abused their power thus. “That’s no way to treat a decree from Her Majesty the Queen.” He reached down and picked up the letter from beside his feet, folded it, and put it back in his pocket.

  Rayner walked away from him, muttering under his breath. “What the hell?” After a moment, he sat down opposite Everett in a deep leather-covered chair with a high back. “Mr. Alnott wanted me to have his daughter, his business, and his fortune, and I have the right to all those things. You took Grace from me and her dowry. Now, I’m not making a problem out of that. You can have the little tart.” Rayner tapped the ash from his cigarette. “But this is preposterous.”

  There was uncertainty in Rayner’s voice. He was young, and his father had died young. Rayner evidently got his power fix by abusing those weaker than himself. He wasn’t sure how to deal with a man of his own rank.

  “I think it’s quite clear.” Everett stretched his mouth into a smile. “The queen appoints me as the guardian of Master Alnott.”

  “The widow of Windsor seems to have the idea I’m some sort of immoral rake.” Rayner rolled his eyes. “And I’m not bringing Henry up as an atheist. Presumably, you made that up.” He took a long drag on the last of his cigarette, then stubbed it out viciously on the crystal ash bowl.

  “What could be more natural than Henry being cared for by his family?” Actually, the fact that Rayner never went to church had been amongst Grace’s lists of possible arguments for his unsuitability. Everett couldn’t suppress a proud smile that it had been her who had found something that would needle Rayner.

  “You’re robbing me of rightful inheritance. Mr. Alnott left the guardianship to me, meant to leave his daughter to me, and respected my advice. I have a duty to accept his trust, and a true aristocrat wouldn’t try and cheat a man’s last wishes.” Resentment was in every line of his posture.

  Interesting that Rayner cared about such things. “I find it suspect that you were so close to Mr. Alnott.” He let that hang in the air for a moment, allowing Rayner to understand all the different things he could mean.

  Rayner’s expression curdled.

  “Grace and Henry are not an inheritance Mr. Alnott ought to have given, even to his very close friend.” He allowed the emphasis to have all the sordid implication Rayner could imagine. “But since you are so keen on responsibility, I will even pay off one of your debts by putting an appropriate amount in trust for your daughter’s upbringing.”

  Rayner didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “That girl’s offspring is hardly mine. She was probably fucking every man in the region.” He was going red at the neck.

  Everett tapped his fingers on the chair arm. “Fine. Then you won’t have any problem staying away from Anna and her child.”

  “I’ll do what I want.” Rayner sneered. “Are you seriously suggesting that some little whore masquerading as a lady’s maid is above my rights as an earl and as a man?”

  Very well. He had hoped it would not come to this. “When people hear that I was in the army for nigh on ten years, they assume I favor violence as a means to settle disputes. But when you see the horror of bloodshed, you never wish for it again. You realize that violence is a last resort.”

  “Is your last resort to bore me to death?” Rayner drawled, but couldn’t sound relaxed enough to be quite convincing.

  “No doubt you’re saying to yourself that I wouldn’t really do it. I am an upstanding member of society, and I have liberal principles about women and children. All that is true.” All that was the reason he would gain no little satisfaction from ending Rayner. “But I advise that you think about this: I have killed soldiers who were innocent men at heart, just farmers. I did that for the glory of the empire and the protection of the queen. Do you doubt that I would kill one guilty man?”

  Rayner didn’t meet his eyes or retort, resentfully looking over at the paneled wall.

  Everett smiled inwardly in triumph. “I will see Henry now.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Grace was dining with the Fishers, her concession to sociability with her hosts, when Lord Westbury and Master Alnott were announced. Without conscious thought, Grace was out of her chair, across the room, and through the door. There was Henry, standing in the hallway. She snatched him up with an unintelligible cry. He was bigger, so much bigger than she remembered. But his hair still smelled the same and he was still her little brother, squirming as she cuddled him.

  “Grace,” came Henry’s muffled voice.

  She released him immediately, kneeling down and holding him at arm’s length to examine him, greedily looking at him as if not taking her eyes from him would keep him here. “What’s the matter?” She scanned his face for any sign of illness or distress.

  “You were squashing me. I couldn’t breathe.” Henry took some wheezy breaths to prove it.

  Grace hiccup-laughed as the emotion was too big for her chest to contain.

  She raised her head and over Henry’s blond curls she met Everett’s gaze. He gave a nod of greeting, his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes intense. A spark lit deep inside her, catching fire and burning white-hot.

  “How did you…?” Grace began, but couldn’t quite form the correct words. The light of his presence had burst the colors out of a dormant kaleidoscope in her heart, filling her from the inside out. Everett was here, miraculously, with her brother and the joy and wonder of it was uncontainable. How did he get Henry away? Did he kidnap him? What would be the repercussions from Lord Rayner? “What—”

  “You can’t talk to him,” Henry interrupted. “You haven’t been introduced.”

  Grace stared at him in astonishment. “My, you have grown up to be very proper.” At almost five years old. Six months without her and her father had trained him hard.

  “You can’t talk to someone you haven’t been introduced to,” Henry insisted.

  It was true in the strictest sense, of course. She hadn’t ever been introduced to Everett. He’d barged into her life, and her heart, without any social niceties. No one had told Henry anything about their marriage. Including Everett. There was a twist of feeling inside her. Everett hadn’t said anything to Henry, so she was still free to walk away if she wanted.

  “Rules are useful,” Everett said. “But sometimes we need to know when we can go beyond the usual lines.”

  Grace glanced up at Everett and read an apology for not obeying the terms of their bargain in his gray
eyes. Then, she met Henry’s gaze again.

  “You have to know when to make your own judgments, not just follow the rules,” Everett added.

  She had made him promise he wouldn’t claim any of the rights of a husband, and after everything, Everett had included this. Now was a reckoning. Was this enough? “Henry.”

  He regarded her with all the fierce solemnity of a four-year-old who knows he is right.

  “I don’t have to be introduced to Lord Westbury. I am married to him.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “He is your brother.”

  Henry quivered with ecstatic disbelief. “Does that mean we’re going to live at Larksview? Can Lord Westbury take me out on the lake in a boat? He told me all about how you can use the wind to move over the water, and he said that there were puppies at one of the farms.”

  Clearly Everett was not above recruiting Henry to persuade her to stay at Larksview, even if he wasn’t willing to compromise their bargain by telling him she was his wife. She glanced over to Everett, who was motionless, watching her. The moment stretched out, her mind ticking off the issues that had stood between them like an overwound clock, manically trying to keep up with her heartbeat.

  A smile crept onto her face. “Maybe. We will have to ask Lord Westbury.”

  “Please? I never went outdoors with Lord Rayner.”

  “We could leave tonight, if you’d like.” Everett’s face was utterly straight. “But first, Henry, why don’t you see if there’s some dinner?”

  “Henry, why don’t you come and sit with us in the dining room?” Caroline offered her hand. “You must be hungry after your journey and we’re about to have dessert.”

  The boy reluctantly confessed that he would quite like something to eat and took Caroline’s proffered hand.

  “You can go to the drawing room.” Caroline nodded at the door opposite.

  Grace watched Henry go into the dining room and sit at the table. He accepted all this with the resilience of a small child. She could feel Everett’s gaze on her.

  “Grace.”

  She turned to him and he gestured toward the drawing room. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and a rough line of stubble where he was usually clean shaven, as though he hadn’t been sleeping. He was still extraordinarily handsome.