by Sophia James
A gun killed one man at a time, but words smote many. Anarchy and rebellion had shades of truth and honour, too, but as he passed on the names of those whom his paramours had mentioned, Gabriel could not dwell on that.
Sometimes he wondered though. Sometimes he heard the tales of men who were good and true killed by unnamed others, their blood running into the gutters of martyrdom and innocence. The hidden cost of his subterfuge. Yet still he had not wavered.
Until Henrietta Clements. She was just another mark at first, a way to listen in to the nefarious truths of her husband, but she had been lonely and he had been, too, pneumonia laying him low for many months of winter. With his guard down he had let her in, past the point of simply business. They had met on numerous occasions and by then she was dangerous: to the British Service and to him.
At the time of the fire he had even thought Wolfe had had a hand in it, a way of dealing efficiently with every problem, but he had found out later that Randolph Clements had been camped out in the woods near Ravenshill with a group of his men.
Revenge. Retribution.
The strong emotions left little space for caution and Gabriel had been flung from that life into this one.
No one knew the true cost of his injuries. No one. And he damned well meant to keep it that way.
* * *
Lucy Carrigan’s small afternoon tea party was finally coming to an end and Adelaide was pleased to see her uncle and her chaperon nearby getting ready to take their leave. The débâcle at the Whitely ball seemed now to be a thing of the past, the rumours of Adelaide’s personal fortune cancelling out other perceived flaws. Indeed, despite her uncle and Imelda’s misgivings, the gossip and disapproval had quickly dissipated.
She had caught sight of Mr Friar earlier in the day and had managed to keep out of his way since then, but suddenly there he was before them as they were making their way to the door.
‘Lord Penbury.’ He tipped his head and then straightened. ‘I did not realise you were here this afternoon, Miss Ashfield, or I should certainly have come over to give you my regards.’
Resisting the urge to answer, Adelaide stayed quiet, hoping that they might leave their meeting at that. But Mr Friar carried on regardless.
‘Well, there was also something that I needed to relate to you in particular, Miss Ashfield. A friend of mine, Mr Kenneth Davis, has made it known to me that he was a neighbour of yours in Sherborne many years ago and he wished for me to give you his regards if by chance I did see you in my travels.’
Adelaide’s world narrowed and then reformed, the spots of fear in her vision threatening to overcome her completely. Was this a warning? The beginnings of blackmail? She pushed her hair back with a shaking hand and tried to smile even as her uncle spoke.
‘The world is a small place, is it not, Adelaide? Kenneth Davis and my niece were once great friends until he hared off to parts unknown in search of a fortune.’
‘A fortune?’ Friar turned the words on his tongue. ‘He lives in Baltimore now, Lord Penbury, and is doing more then well.’
‘Such a coincidence, is it not, Adelaide?’
As her uncle offered this opinion George Friar laughed. ‘Much of his conversation is about the wonderful time he had as a youth here in England. I think he fancied himself in love with your niece, my lord, and after meeting her I can well see why.’
‘He was a wild boy, Mr Friar, and rather wayward. The colonies are probably most suited to men such as him.’
‘That they are, my lord, but his stories are most amusing. Perhaps you might allow me your company in order to relate them to you, Miss Ashfield.’
George Friar knew what had happened all those years ago and he knew Adelaide knew that he did. All the horror and fear she felt became entwined in another even more dreadful realisation.
If she refused his suit, for that was obviously what this conversation was about, what might happen next? She could not allow him to see her alone until she could formulate a plan.
The mention of a fortune had caught her uncle’s interest, however, and instead of leaving as they were about to he turned with a question in his eyes.
‘What is it you do there in Baltimore, Mr Friar?’
‘Shipping, my lord. I bring wood from the Americas to England. I also have a large holding on the Jones Falls River in Coles Harbour that I farm, for there are rich pickings to be had if one is willing to work for it and I most certainly am.’
‘Indeed. Your family must be proud of your endeavour, then. I always thought my own son should have tried his luck there. Perhaps you might take a turn about the room with Mr Friar, Adelaide. You would probably like to hear about Mr Davis and his new life in the Americas.’
And just like that she was dispatched into the care of Mr George Friar, his hand beneath her arm as he led her around the room.
‘I am sorry I did not tell you of my acquaintance with Kenneth Davis at the Harvey ball, Miss Ashfield. I thought it would be nice to get to know you first, to find out for myself if what he said of you could possibly be true. My tripping on that blasted plant put an end to that.’
So he would not mention his own lack of manners? She decided to play along. ‘And what was it he has said of me, sir?’
The affable but bumbling tone suddenly changed. ‘He said you held one of the richest fortunes in England in your palm, Miss Ashfield, and that if his father had not had him manhandled on to the next boat out of England you would have had to marry him.’
She was pleased that he now showed her his true malice.
‘He was wrong in that assumption, Mr Friar. No woman has to do anything she does not wish to simply because of the poor manners of a suitor.’
Her heart was thumping, but she kept her smile in place and was glad to feel her strength returning. Cover a bluff with a bluff; a cardroom strategy that she’d heard from Bertie.
‘Society here needs just to hear a rumour of impropriety to believe it to be true, Miss Ashfield. Especially in a woman.’ The cold threat in his voice was evident. ‘It is dangerous ground that you are treading.’
‘You seem to be ignoring the opposing argument that those who tell tales often come under their own scrutiny, Mr Friar. If it is truly a wealthy wife you want from this visit to England, it would pay you to stay out of such quagmires.’
He took a step back, the smile on his face now overwritten with anger. ‘My offer to marry you still stands, Miss Ashfield. I believe we could do well together. The beginnings of a dynasty. And if not...’ He left the threat unfinished.’
My God, he believed she would simply surrender to his bullying? Was he mad? ‘I will surely think about it, Mr Friar, but for now I need to leave. A headache, you understand.’ She brought her hand to her brow and tried to look suitably in pain.
When Friar tipped his head and let her go she knew she had won a short respite at least. Better to let him believe that he was in with a chance than to cut him off completely. Breathing out, she walked towards her uncle, praying all the way that the absolute fury she felt inside would not be showing on her face.
* * *
Gabriel fell into a wide leather wingchair at White’s and ordered a stiff brandy.
Daniel Wylde sat opposite him, the smoke of a cheroot winding up between them.
‘My wife is worried about you, Gabriel. She thinks you are lonely.’
‘Lonely for strong wine and shapely women,’ he drawled back. The persona he had fostered was so easy to regather in the face of anything personal.
‘Lonely in life, were her exact words. She thinks Miss Adelaide Ashfield would suit you nicely as a bride and has bidden me to raise the subject.’
Speechless for once, Gabriel listened.
‘She is wealthy and she is comely. But most of all she is clever and real. A woman like that is rare. Amethy
st thinks you are half in love with her already.’
‘Love is a strong word, Daniel, and one I have had no practice in at all.’
‘Love is the only word that takes away loneliness. Perhaps you should think about that.’
Gabriel laughed, but the sound was mirthless. ‘Your matchmaking ability leaves much to be desired. Perhaps if you just stop there we’d both be relieved.’
‘It’s good to be back in your company, Gabe.’
The quiet honesty of the statement floored Gabriel and he remained silent, fighting back the desire to lay down every one of his problems before the scrutiny of an old friend.
Daniel lowered his voice. ‘It is also whispered you work for the Service. Undercover?’ He allowed this to settle a moment before continuing. ‘Battle was wearying in the Peninsular campaign, but it was usually quickly over. You have the looks of a man who has been under fire for a very long time.’
‘God. I do not need this.’
‘Don’t you? I think you need to hear a new perspective. A perspective that includes a life of your own and a liberty unconstrained by the requirements of a country that will be wanting for ever. The army was like that for me in the end. I came out with a bullet in my leg and nightmares and if I didn’t know who I was on decommission, then no one else was ever going to have the chance to, either.’
‘A brutal ending?’
‘True. But my wife saved me.’
The words dropped across hope, flattening it. No woman would ever be able to save him. He was the most renowned lover in all of London town with a string of conquests to his name and yet he could no longer feel anything.
‘You have been dallying with the wrong sorts of women. Cressida Murray was always going to be trouble and so was Henrietta Clements.’
Gesturing to a passing waiter, Gabriel ordered a bottle of fine Scotch.
‘Get drunk with me, Daniel, as a friend, and tell me about your horses.’
Chapter Ten
‘Are we not besieged by men who are most...unsuitable, Imelda?’ Lord Penbury sighed. ‘Run over by them like a pack of rats on a sinking ship? Mr George Friar, whom one cannot quite manage the gist of despite his self-proclaimed fortune, and the Honourable Richard Williams, who is afflicted with a dire lack of gumption. This is not taking into account all of the others whom my niece dances with once and then never allows them to enjoy a second turn around the floor.’ He stopped, trying to find the words. ‘It is so much more exhausting than I had ever imagined it to be, I can tell you that. My daughters were easy to marry off, no fuss, no problems. They came, they found, they married.’
Imelda joined in the one-sided conversation now. ‘Your niece inspires strong reactions from men and yet she seems to return none.’
‘Well, Lord Berrick at least has offered for Adelaide’s hand in marriage.’
‘When?’
‘Yesterday. He came to see me in the afternoon and on speaking with him I can see Adelaide would have much to gain by looking favourably upon his suit.’
‘Have you spoken with her about this?’
‘No. I do not wish to have another argument and yet...he is a good man and more than wealthy. He loves her and made much of telling me exactly how he does. He is, I admit, very verbose, but he is more than genuine with it and he has promised to allow Adelaide the space and time to pursue the interests that she holds dear. Her clinic. Her tinctures.’
‘Then he sounds most reasonable, though your niece might not recognise it as such. The young have no idea of what their future might hold, in my opinion, Penbury, or of how hard the path of life can be. Perhaps we should help her to make the right choice.’
‘How?’
‘Oh, there are many ways, my dear, ways that have been used for years and years by the wise chaperons of the young and the foolish. A small push here, a larger one there and, voilà, the goal is reached easily.’
‘You think Lovelace is a fine choice, then?’
‘I do. The best Adelaide could hope for at her age and with her attributes. She is outspoken and her independent nature is not one that most men of the ton would find appealing. Besides, I knew Frederick Lovelace’s grandmother well and she always spoke highly of him.’
Alec breathed out. Subterfuge was a game he shied away from normally, but his niece had brought him to his wits’ end. Bertram would return home to Northbridge one of these days with a wife of his own and then children to follow and he worried that Adelaide would feel replaced somehow. Lost in the mêlée of a new generation. No. She needed her own life and house and husband, he was damn certain of it. His brother would have said the same had he still been in the land of the living. John would have encouraged his daughter to spread her wings and find what he had had in his own life, a happy, comfortable marriage. He would be far from pleased to see her grown so alone, and whilst Eloise and Jean had been company for each other in their old age, Adelaide would have no one.
‘Do what you need to, Imelda, but do it carefully. I should not want my niece to know that she has in any way been pushed into this.’
* * *
Lord Berrick was waiting in the drawing room when Adelaide came down that evening having dressed for the McWilliamses’ ball. He looked different tonight, happier, and his clothes were stamped with the impression of much thought and coinage. A good-looking man despite his rather dull character.
‘Miss Ashfield.’ She looked around for her uncle and for Imelda Harcourt, but they were nowhere at all in sight. She could not believe that this would be considered proper to be left alone together according to the strict tenets of the ton. Still, his smile was real and he was so very unthreatening she felt herself relax.
‘I am honoured to be asked to escort you to the ball tonight, Miss Ashfield.’
This was the first Adelaide had heard of the arrangement, but she stayed quiet.
‘I brought your uncle a book I enjoyed and he has just gone to find one that he recommends for me to take home.’
‘You read?’
‘Anything and everything. I have no taste, only appetite.’
Despite the situation she laughed. ‘My oldest cousin, Cynthia, always called me the family bookworm. When I was younger I used to imagine that literally and worry.’
‘Well, my dog almost took a bite out of the First Folio of William Shakespeare the other day and it is worth a small fortune.’
‘You have dogs?’
‘Three of them. All large and unfortunately rather stupid. But I like them.’
Tonight without the whirl of society trapping them she thought the earl seemed nicer and far easier to speak with.
When her uncle returned with Lady Imelda a few moments later, she was sitting next to Lovelace on the sofa, talking of the house that he had grown up in. Lady Harcourt quickly fastened on the topic.
‘Oh, Thornbury Manor is a very beautiful place. Your grandmother and I used to walk around the lake there and talk and plan all sorts of wonderful gardens that would enhance it.’
‘Did they eventuate?’ Adelaide was interested.
‘Yes, many of them did,’ Imelda replied with a smile, ‘and I hope you might one day have the opportunity to see them, too, my dear. There is a white garden down by the lake and pinks and reds and yellows at the front of the house. Are they still there, Lord Berrick?’
‘Mother did not have quite the green finger that my grandmama did, Lady Harcourt, but if one looks I am certain the ancestors of those plants might still be rearing their heads come the Season.’
‘Family,’ Imelda purred. ‘How important it is and how vital the connections. Do you not think so, Penbury?’
‘Indeed, I do. Without the traditions and the solidarity of kith and kin one would be adrift and alone for ever.’
Adelaide felt the pull of something strange. There
were undercurrents she could not understand at play here and she struggled to interpret them.
Berrick smiled wistfully at her, but was all attentiveness. His conversation was not quite as dull as she might have once thought it either, and as the hour wore on she realised she was indeed enjoying herself. Oh, granted, the words were not wit-sharp as they had been at the Wyldes the other evening with Lord Wesley, and when Frederick Lovelace leaned over she was not bothered whether he inadvertently touched her or not. But it was easy and good humoured and for the first time in a while her uncle smiled as though he meant it and looked pleased with her, the genial uncle from Sherborne more apparent.
Family. For all it was and all it wasn’t, she enjoyed seeing Uncle Alec happy.
‘You have no other siblings, then, Lord Berrick, no cousins?’
He shook his head, the candelabra above catching the gold highlights there. ‘None, I am afraid, for my parents were only children in both families. You are lucky, Miss Ashfield, with all your cousins.’
‘Well, three of them are a lot older than me and Cynthia and Elizabeth live in the north now. Barbara married a man from Boston and we have not seen her in years. Bertram, at least, resides in London.’
‘I should want a large family myself. Sometimes when I was young it was lonely.’
The earl’s honesty made her smile. It was rare for a man to admit to such emotion and she lauded him for it, though catching the glance her uncle and chaperon gave each other across the table she stiffened. Knowing. Smug. The horrible thought came that this meeting had more to it than the enjoyment of a simple uncomplicated conversation.
The twelve weeks of the Season that she had promised her uncle were whittling away, yet he had become more and more desperate for her to find a suitor that she held some penchant for. Had he spoken to Lovelace about his hopes? Had he even encouraged the earl?