by Lauren Smith
“But he has been rescued,” she ventured. “He is home…and free.”
“That is the thing, he is not free.” Gideon glanced at her hands, still holding the scotch he’d given her. “He is still in danger, as am I for forcibly removing him from a Navy vessel in Dover. We are hunted men, and if we are found before the Admiralty Courts have had time to decide on the matter, he will be returned to the ship, and I could be punished.”
Sybil indignation flared. “But I would not allow that to happen. My brother would champion your cause. We would fight until you both were freed.”
Gideon snorted. “Lord Lichfield will not so much as entertain an audience with me. What leads you to believe he would put his own reputation on the line to save me?”
“Because he is a good man, an honorable one, a lord who prides himself on his loyalty.”
“He owes me no loyalty, Sybil,” Gideon sighed. “I made a promise to you, and to your family, and I abandoned that promise.”
“With good reason,” she retorted.
“But Silas doesn’t know that.”
“For the sole reason that you haven’t explained it to him.” Sybil took a small sip from the tumbler clutched between her bone-white knuckles, thankful for the burning respite as it made its way down her throat to her stomach. “And, he may owe you no amount of loyalty; however, as I said, Silas is an honorable and good man, and he has been known to dote on his sister. If I asked it of him, he would go to the ends of the Earth to see me happy, especially if it meant saving the man I love.”
His inquisitive gaze captured hers across the space that separated them.
Her words shocked her as much as they did Gideon.
Embarrassment flamed, and her face heated. “It was not my intent to speak out of turn, Gideon. I know now is not the time, but—“
“I love you, too, Sybil,” he said, his stare never wavering. “That is the one thing that has never changed, even with all the secrets I had to keep from you, and the time away with no explanation. I hoped every day you’d forgive me…and love me still.”
“While losing you hurt me, it did not stop my heart from longing for you.”
“As I have pined for you.” Gideon stood, pacing before the hearth. “I dreamt of you every night, Sybil. I told myself that if you ever forgave me, I would never cause you another day of grief. Yet, here we are.”
He said everything Sybil had longed to hear him say: that he’d missed her, he’d thought of her, and he loved her.
A heavy, persistent knock thundered through the townhouse, so close, Sybil thought it was someone at the study door. The thump rattled the windowpanes at the same time the tall clock began to chime the top of the hour. Her hand shook where it clutched her tumbler, sending the liquid over the rim and onto her gloved hand, marring the delicate satin.
“Bloody damnation!” Gideon hissed. “This night has had no end of visitors. Not that I was unhappy to see you, Sybil.”
“I did not take offense.” Sybil cleared her throat and set the glass aside before standing. “I suppose it is time I return home before it is noticed that I am gone.”
Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose as the hammering on the door continued. “I will have my carriage readied. If you’ll wait here, I will take care of it and see why no one has answered the damned door.”
As he left the room, a dark cloud descended around him, and tension tightened his shoulders, evident even through his evening jacket. A large part of her wanted to follow him, to ease whatever caused him worry; however, he’d bid her to remain, and for once, she was resigned to listen.
Was it that she didn’t want to leave? They’d only just begun discussing the many things that had kept them apart, caused them both immeasurable pain, and found common ground—the one thing that kept them together.
Love.
Gideon left the study door wide open after departing, his footsteps muffled by the incessant knocking at the front door as it drifted and echoed into the room Sybil waited in. Who could it be at this time of night?
Finally, the butler must have opened the door because the knocking suddenly stopped and the halls of Gideon’s townhouse returned to their quiet ways.
“Where in the hell is my sister, you chutless, fobbin codpiece?” Silas’s enraged voice boomed through the house, causing tendrils of dread to course down her back.
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
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!
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~ LADY X, 3 April 1816
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“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 yo
u 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 planned 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 fo
r 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.”