by Em Taylor
It seemed to Kathleen that there was much to love about Christina. She was smart and funny and beautiful.
They were at afternoon tea at Lady Beaumont’s and Cedric had led Kathleen into the conservatory to see the flowers.
While they were out of earshot of anyone else, they were still in view of everyone else. They could not sneak away for time alone at such a gathering. In fact, they had not been alone since the night of their betrothal ball and Kathleen felt as if Cedric’s kiss had just been a dream.
“I heard some of the older ladies gossiping,” Kathleen started. This was true. She had been privy to disturbing information and wanted to ask Cedric about it. She wanted to know about his relationship with a member of his family.
“You should not listen to gossip, Kathleen. Little of it is true.”
“Mayhap. It was about Lord Byron.”
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her. “Lord Byron.”
“Yes. The poet.”
“I know who he is and about his reputation.”
“He has a half-sister.”
“I am aware.”
Heat rose in Kathleen’s cheeks. “The gossiping ladies said he had… well…” She looked out over the flowerbeds. Anywhere but at Cedric. “They said he had intimate relations with his half-sister.”
“That is one rumour about Byron, though not the most salacious and not the reason he lives in Switzerland.”
“Oh?” She looked at him and his mouth quirked at the corner.
“I am not explaining why he is exiled, my love. That is for a time when you are much less innocent.”
Kathleen bit her lip unsure how to ask what she wanted to know. “You and your half-sister are close.”
Cedric coughed. “Good God, Kathleen. What are you implying? I love my sister. We’re close but we are definitely not as close as Byron and his sister.”
“So, you have never…” Her voice trailed off. Cedric looked her straight in the eye.
“Never. I have never had the desire. The thought makes me feel ill. I am sure she is beautiful and lovely but not to me. Not in that way.”
Kathleen smiled. “I am glad. After I heard those women talking, I wondered why Christina had not married.”
“Christina is a little too forthright for her own good. Christina needs a man who shall not be intimidated by a woman who knows her own mind.”
“A gentleman like Lord Stalwood.”
“It seems that way.”
“Perhaps we should encourage them. Christina likes him.”
“They do not need encouraged, my love. Myles is making Christina fall head over ears in love with him without our help.”
“And what will your father say?”
“I doubt my father cares who Christina marries, as long as he has a title and does not come back to my father looking for more money to keep her.”
“Oh.”
Cedric chuckled. “Do not look so distressed, Miss Roberts. It is the way of the ton. Twas ever thus.”
“And you? Why are you not marrying a young lady with a title?”
Cedric stopped and looked at her, assessing her. “I have no title to offer in return. But, having met you, and come to know you, if I had one, I would be honoured to give mine to you.”
Heat rose in Kathleen’s cheeks as Cedric suddenly started to inspect the flowers. He was embarrassed by his tender words. Somehow that just made her like him more.
“My father has a box at the theatre. If you have no plans tonight, perhaps I could get a party together and go.”
“I would enjoy that.”
“Fine. I shall come around and pick you up in our carriage. I shall have Christina and Myles with me, so you shan’t need a chaperone.”
“Very well.
∞∞∞
“Why the devil are we going to Brooks’. My Father is not happy that I am gadding about as he puts it.” Gabriel was less than happy.
“Keep a rein on that horse of yours, old chap, and all shall be revealed.”
“Cedric would never be caught dead in Brooks’. Can you imagine that arse thinking paupers and women should get the vote? Come on, Myles. Should we not be keeping this farce at least in the realms of believability?”
“Gabe, my man, I swear I shall tell the whole of London who you are if you do not shut up. Either that or I shall tell them that Cedric is a molly and fancies someone in Brooks’.”
“I would plant you a facer if you did.”
“Remember what happened last time.”
“But I am dressed as a gentleman tonight.”
“We are here. Gabriel, try to pretend you are not in leading strings and trust me for once.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes.
“Once my father pops off the mortal coil and I become a duke, I shall kill you Stalwood.”
“Even dukes do not get away with murder, Cindermaine.”
“Would you like to test that theory?”
“I would never know if it was true. I would be dead.”
Damn Stalwood and his logic. He had always been able to out-argue him.
They walked into the club and the butler bowed to them.
“Viscount Stalwood and Mr Cedric Onslow to see Viscount Beattie.”
Viscount Beattie? Gideon Beattie?
“Very good, my lord.”
The butler took their cloaks, hats, and canes and then took them into the dining room. Several heads turned to face them, a couple of eyebrows raised, mainly in Gabriel’s direction. He put on his best supercilious sneer and followed Stalwood. What the devil was his friend up to?
They were led to a dark corner of the dining room and Gabriel recognised his old school chum. He had not changed much. Stronger and bigger perhaps, but essentially the same.
“Thank you for meeting us, Beattie. I am sure you would rather be dining with your viscountess this evening.”
“She is content with her aunt, as long as I do not make a habit of leaving her. Rumour has it, Stalwood that you shall have your own viscountess soon enough, and with Cindermaine’s twin sister.”
Beattie had looked right at him when he had said Cindermaine and Gabriel suddenly felt his neck-cloth terribly restrictive. He tugged at it. Beattie held out his hand. Gabriel grasped it but rather than shake it, Beattie pulled him closer and spoke in a whisper. “Nice to see you again, Gabriel. Have a seat.”
Gabriel sat, unable to think of anything to say. The footman brought wine and the gentlemen ordered and then they were alone. All the time they were ordering, Gabriel could only think of one thing—the one and only time he’d had to stand up to his father. The time he had planted him a facer and left him bleeding on the floor of his library. But he had never hit Christina again.
Did everyone know? If they did, it was a problem. His sire could lose his only reason to not hurt Christina. The combination of the secret being kept, Gabriel’s obedience and the threat he would kill his father had kept his father from being violent to Christina for years. But if that man saw that his perfect world was beginning to fall down like a barn with woodworm, he may just turn nasty again.
“Who knows?” he said eventually.
“Who knows what?”
Gabriel glanced behind him and around the room to check no one would overhear. He spoke through his teeth in undertones. “Who knows I am Cindermaine, damn it.”
Stalwood flinched. “Only your household staff, Christina, and Beattie.”
“My wife knows too.”
“Oh God, well if Lady Clumsy knows, the whole of the ton knows.”
Beattie rose to his feet.
“Gideon, he does not mean it. Please,” Stalwood said, laying a hand on Beattie’s arm.
Gabriel ran his hand through his hair. “I apologise unreservedly. That was uncalled for. Please, Beattie, accept my humblest of apologies. Your dear wife does not deserve to be the butt of my bad temper.”
Beattie stood for a moment then looked at Stalwood. “What the hell happened to him.”
“You had better not have bedded her.” Gabriel knew he was being unreasonable. He knew he was being an arse. But he could not help himself. What if others had worked it out?
“Are you sure you brought Cindermaine and not Onslow?”
“Yes, I can tell them apart. Though for most of the ton they just look at the nose and the hair. You see, the eyes and the mouth differentiate who is who. Granted, it is difficult with this one permanently scowling.”
“Are we done?”
“No.” Both his old school friends said together.
“Why am I here?”
“Well, Gideon does not know why you, or indeed he, is here. But Christina and I hatched a plan. And we decided to be your fairy godmothers.”
“You mean like in a children’s tale?”
“Indeed.”
“What the devil?”
“Well, Cindermaine, Christina and I think you should go to the ball, or in the case, the wedding.”
“I do not understand.” He looked from Stalwood, who looked excited and pleased with his cunning plan, to Beattie, who looked as perplexed as he felt.
“You are developing tender feelings for Miss Roberts. Yes?”
Gabriel scowled. If truth be known, he could not get the adorable chit out of his mind. Today she had been wearing a light blue gown which was low cut and high-waisted. She had worn a dainty string of pearls around her delicate neck—a neck he was desperate to kiss. When her cheeks had turned pink when she had asked if he’d had inappropriate relations with Christina, he’d had quite scandalous thoughts about her. His breeches were getting tight at the thought of her.
Beattie lifted an eyebrow at Stalwood. “I believe we have our answer to that question if the starry expression on his face is anything to go by.”
“Oh, shut up. I have no starry expression on my face, Beattie.”
“If you say so.”
“So, the idea of Cedric’s hands all over her naked body and coupling with her…”
Gabriel let out a low growl at Stalwood who raised two hands in surrender. “You must marry the chit, old boy, or that will become the reality.” It was Beattie’s voice cutting through the red haze of rage.
Marry her.
Then Cedric won’t have her.
Make her yours.
You care for her.
It makes sense.
They were all just words. Gabriel shook his head as their dinner was served. It gave him time to gather his wits a little.
“So, I just march into Hartsmere House and announce I am marrying my brother’s betrothed, I suppose,” he said, with an added edge of sarcasm.
“Hardly. I suppose the first thing you must do is tell Miss Roberts and swear her to secrecy.”
“You realise that this sort of scandal ruins young ladies,” Gabriel pointed out.
“True,” said Beattie, “But unless your father outlives you, she shall be a duchess and duchesses rise above scandal. And even if you meet an untimely demise, she will be a dowager countess, which will stand her in good stead.”
“And let us be honest, chaps. Cedric will bring scandal on her, no matter what. He is not the soul of discretion, is he?”
“All fair points, gentlemen. But I have no money and my father will disown me. What are we to live on?”
“Her dowry?”
“That is her money.”
“I shall give you money until you come into your inheritance, Gabe.” It was Stalwood. It was a very tempting offer but not one that Gabriel could contemplate.
“No.”
“Christina has offered you her dowry once we wed. She said she owes it to you. I have not asked more. We have no need for it and I will care for my wife and make sure she is provided for in the event of my death.”
“I cannot take money from my own sister.”
“She is insistent.”
“Why are you discussing this with Christina?” The anger was bubbling up inside him. He had not been angry for years. For so long he had just accepted what had come his way. And now it felt as if Stalwood was poking him with a stick and he was a sleeping wild animal who did not want to be disturbed.
“It was her idea. Whether you like it or not, Cindermaine, your sister loves you and wants you to be happy and I love her, and I want her to be happy. And she will not marry me until she knows you are out of that house and away from that man.”
“I do not need my sister’s protection.”
“She is not offering you protection, my lord. She is offering you money to marry the woman for whom you have tender feelings. Then you can become the man you are supposed to be rather than a god-damned servant.”
“Wait, a servant?” Beattie looked thunderstruck.
“You did not tell him?” Gabriel asked looking at his friend who was glaring at Stalwood and himself.
“No, Gabriel. I did not tell him. When I saw him at your ball, I asked if we could meet here. I thought here was better than White’s or Tattersall’s. But I did not get the opportunity to meet up before and explain what I knew. Gideon recognised you at the ball. We were friends at Eton. He, like me, could tell the difference. He spoke to me rather than you because you were busy that night. I believe you were entertaining Miss Roberts in the hothouse at that point.”
Gabriel had a growing sense of unease. He had not thought through his impulsive visit to the conservatory with Miss Roberts. Had everyone noticed? But then nearly everyone thought he was Cedric.
“Tell me what? What is this about you being a servant? Were you not ill and at the Hartsmere estate? What the devil is going on Gabe?”
Gabriel glowered at Stalwood for a moment, but the time had come to be honest. Or at least partly honest.
“I was never ill. Well, apart from the odd fever. Nothing serious. When I was five, something happened and, as a result of my actions, my mother…” He took a deep breath. “My mother took her own life.”
“Christ.” It was Myles. Gabriel felt cold and sick. He pushed his chair out slightly and looked at his evening shoes as he laid down his knife and fork. But when he chanced a glance at Beattie, he looked unperturbed.
“My father killed himself. We lied to the vicar. Told him the doctor said it was his heart. I could not have Sophia go through any more pain and the scandal of him being buried at a crossroads. Well… I know it’s a sin, but I do not care. Anyway, what terrible deed can a five-year-old do that can cause a woman to take her own life. Did you not wash behind your ears properly?”
Gabriel gave a humourless chuckle. That was so like Gideon to ask such a ridiculous question. Could he tell the whole truth to his friends?
“My father was in the dower house. I was playing near there. Cedric and Godfrey had already come to live with us. Mother had accepted them to a degree, but she believed my father had stopped his affair with their mother. Lady Benwick had not yet married Baron Benwick at that point. She married him not long after though, as I recall. Anyway, I passed by a french window that led into one of the sitting rooms in the dower house and my father had a lady bent over a loveseat. He was smacking her bottom and pulling her hair. He was also pumping his cock in and out of her, hard and fast.”
“Good God. In broad daylight, while you were playing close by?” asked Stalwood
“He likely did not know I was outside. I should have been in the care of a nurse, but I had a bad habit of escaping her watchful eye. She was elderly and occasionally dozed off. Anyway, I had no idea about sex. I was only five. I appeared to my five-year-old self that my father was hurting her. He had given me a few thumps in my time. I knew my mama had been given the odd bruise at his hand. Even Christina.”
“Christina!” Myles spoke with a growl through his teeth. “You did not mention that the day we rode in Hy
de Park.”
“No, well, he does not hit her now. I saw to that when I was old enough to fight back. On that day, I was worried for the lady my sire was tumbling. I did not know her. I did not realise she was Cedric and Godfrey’s mother. So, I went to my mother and recounted what I had seen. Of course, my mama put two and two together. Godfrey is younger than Christina and me, so she knew when he was born the affair was not over. But the Duke had promised her after Godfrey it was ended. She did not believe she had a love match but mayhap she hoped she had a foundation on which to build. To be honest, as an adult, I do not understand how she could be so naïve about that man.”
“What happened then?” asked Beattie, pulling him away from his introspection.
“Marchby is an old castle. It has a few turrets six storeys high. She climbed to the top of one of them the next night after a confrontation with my sire and threw herself off one of the battlements. She was found the next morning by a maid going out to get milk. My father beat me black and blue.”
“But when you were old enough he sent you to Eton.”
“I will be the Duke of Hartsmere one day. I had to get my education. But you may have noticed that I always returned to the Hartsmere estate in the holidays and no one ever visited Hartsmere with me.”
“That is true,” Stalwood said.
“I worked with the men on the estate and once I left university, I was given a uniform and I became a footman. I often help my friend with jobs that pertain to being Cedric’s valet because he is such a fussy bugger. Cochrane could not do it all himself. It takes him half an hour to do the man’s neck-cloth in that intricate knot. So, I polish his boots and mend his clothes and de-flea them after he has been in the most disreputable of brothels.”
“And this is why Cedric is suddenly wearing silk evening breeches instead of inexpressibles?”
“Would you wear anything that had been near Cedric’s ballocks?”
Both his companions made faces that showed their distaste. “I think you just put me off my port, my dear man,” said Stalwood.
“Imagine having to mend his inexpressibles. Cochrane and I have wagers to see who must do it. Cochrane usually loses.”
“Well it seems even more clear now that this cannot go on,” said Stalwood.