Barbara Pierce (34 page)

His friends shrewdly laughed at his slight amendment of the facts. While his wife might not be carrying his child at present, Fayne was intending to dedicate himself to insure that she soon would be.

“Then what are you doing here, Carlisle?” Cadd asked,
winking at him suggestively. “There will be no peace for you in this town. Your runaway marriage has the
ton
agog.”

Ramscar cleared his throat. “And before you blame us, you can thank your family for spreading the news. Brawley told the duchess your good news, and the lady has been telling everyone.”

“I believe she put an announcement in the
Times,
” Everod added helpfully.

The earl nodded when Fayne put his hand to his head and groaned. He had told Brawley to circulate the news of their elopement. Fayne had assumed that when the gossip finally reached Nipping’s ears, it would keep the man from proclaiming that his beloved sister had been carried off against her will. Leave it to his mother not to do things in half-measures.

“Your mother even hunted the three of us down, demanding details about your new bride,” Everod said.

He could just imagine the interrogation his mother had put his friends through. “What did you tell her?”

With regard to his family, he had always been discreet about his liaisons. He had carefully avoided revealing to his family his interest in Lady Kilby Fitchwolf. Even when Fayne had thought Kilby had been his father’s mistress, his primary motivation for keeping their affair a secret from them had not been shame. He had not wanted to cause his family any additional pain. Conversely, if they had learned of his intent, none of them could have dissuaded him from claiming her.

Cadd carelessly shrugged. “What could we tell her? You have been very cagey about your connection to the lady.”

“Not that she believed us,” Everod said, his face conveying his aggravation about their exchange with his tenacious mother.

“Well, I appreciate you all suffering on my behalf, gents,” Fayne said, commiserating with their ordeal.

Before he introduced his new bride to his mother, he and the dowager were going to have to hash everything out. He did not want their first meeting to go awry because of a misunderstanding.

“I have sought you out because I need your help.” Fayne glanced guardedly at the crowd. “But not here.”

His friends followed him out to the street. Everod broke the silence by suggesting, “We can get one of the private rooms at the club.”

Ramscar gestured at a carriage awaiting him across the street. “Cadd, why don’t you tie Solitea’s horse to your equipage, while he rides with me? We can all meet up at my house since it is the closest.”

Anticipating Everod’s argumentative response, the earl said, “If Solitea arrives at one of the clubs, half the
ton
will know he has returned within the hour.” He looked at his friend for confirmation and saw what he needed in Fayne’s steady gaze.

He and Ramscar crossed the street to his carriage. He slowed his stride as he turned his head back at Cadd when the man shouted out his name.

“I’ve had designs on your fine horse for some time,” the marquess said, grinning. “Are you certain you want to trust me with the beast?”

Fayne shook his head and waved the man off. Cadd had always envied Fayne’s keen eye for prime horseflesh, and his vast resources to outbid him on any beast he coveted. It was a harmless competition between them that had gone on for years.

A large black coach appeared suddenly, without warning. Fayne turned to see a team of four horses heading directly at him. He could hear the sounds of a whip cracking in the air as the unknown driver urged the team to go faster. The animals were so close he could see foam dripping from their mouths and smell their fear. Fayne threw his
body to the side, just as the horses and the coach thundered over the exact spot he had been standing. Despite the near-miss, the driver did not stop, continuing down the street until it vanished from sight entirely.

Ramscar reached him first. His other friends and concerned strangers circled him, checking to see if he was uninjured.

“I never saw anything like it,” Cadd said angrily. “The driver must have been foxed. It was like he was aiming the damned coach right at you!”

Fayne accepted Ramscar’s hand and he was pulled to his feet. “Did anyone get a look at the coachman?” All he had glimpsed was a dark indistinct figure. In truth, his focus had been on the horses. He listened vaguely to the negative replies. No one around seemed to recall anything about the mysterious coachman.

His entire body was shaking and there was an uncomfortable weakness in his limbs. If he had hesitated, Kilby would have been a widow. First, someone tried to drown his wife, and just now he almost died under the wheels of a runaway coach. Fayne did not believe in coincidences.

He waved his hand at the dust in the air and coughed. Leaning heavily on his friend, Fayne murmured, “I think someone is trying to breathe life into the Solitea curse.” He coughed again into his fist.

Ramscar nodded, signaling silently to Cadd and Everod that it was time to leave. “Let’s go. I’m beginning to see your point about us discussing your recent troubles in private. If there is trouble brewing, surprise may be your only advantage.”

Kilby sat on one of the sofas in the Brawleys’ drawing room feigning a calmness that she was incapable of while she plaited Gypsy’s long black hair. There had been nothing wrong with the previous braid. Fussing with her sister’s hair gave her an excuse to touch Gypsy. She needed the tactile reminder that the girl was safe. Fayne’s family had kept their promise, and Kilby was in their debt.

From the corner of her eye, she observed her new brother-in-law as he paced in front of the window. The tension he tried to conceal was palpable to everyone in the room. Like Fayne, Mr. Maccus Brawley was a man of action. Kilby sensed he longed to join her husband in the hunt for her brother and for clues to the man who had attacked her. Nonetheless, he had made a promise to protect Fayne’s new family and the man took his job seriously.

Lady Fayre, or Fayre, as she insisted on being addressed, was at the pianoforte playing a piece of lighthearted music that was meant to distract them all from dwelling on Fayne’s absence. Her sister-in-law played the instrument
with supreme confidence and she did credit to the sheet music. It was a pity Kilby was unable to properly appreciate the lady’s efforts.

Gypsy made a soft sound of complaint.

Kilby finished tying the bow. “Fidgety, are we?” She affectionately stroked the length of the braid with her fingers. “You never could sit still for more than a few minutes.”

Kilby tipped Gypsy’s chin up and kissed her cheek. The fact that her sister seemed happy made it easier for Kilby to let her go. “Off you go, then. Take care not to trouble the servants.”

Gypsy jumped up, her blue eyes gleaming with excitement at the prospect of exploring the house. After three steps, she abruptly turned and threw her arms around her older sister. Kilby held her close, relishing Gypsy’s show of affection.

“I love you, my wandering girl,” she whispered against Gypsy’s ear.

Her sister broke away and slipped out of the room.

“She hasn’t spoken a single word since your parents’ deaths?” Fayre asked, concern marring her lovely face. She had given up on her music.

Kilby shook her head and wearily sighed. “No. Sometimes she will make sounds, and for a few seconds I start to believe she is finally recovering from the loss of our parents.” She glanced down at her clasped hands, fighting back the despair that tightened her throat.

“Gypsy seems to comprehend the world around her somewhat,” Maccus said carefully, not wanting to offend his new sister-in-law. “Have you considered that her silence is merely stubbornness?”

“Several of the physicians who examined my sister came to the same conclusion.” Kilby’s mouth tightened as the past assailed her. “With Archer’s approval, these learned men subjected Gypsy to numerous cruelties in an attempt to provoke her into speaking.”

Fayre gasped in horror, clearly imagining the pain that was inflicted on the grieving child. Her hand lightly rose upward to caress the silver and diamond brooch pinned to the front of her bodice as if the delicate spray of flowers and leaves brought her comfort. Standing, she crossed the room and sat beside Kilby on the sofa.

“What did you do?” her sister-in-law asked, sliding a comforting arm around her. Fayre’s green eyes were so reminiscent of Fayne’s that Kilby had to look away.

“I turned them out of the house.” Her defiant actions had incurred Archer’s wrath, but she had not cared. “I could not bear my sister’s distress.” Kilby met Maccus’s sympathetic gaze. “If it is stubbornness that keeps Gypsy from speaking, then that will has been forged by pain and loss. Nothing will coerce her into breaking her silence, until she is prepared to do so.”

Maccus solemnly nodded. There was something in his expression that revealed he was intimately acquainted with tragedy. “You and Gypsy are part of our family now. If there is anything we can do to help you or your sister, you only need to ask.”

“You both have my gratitude. I do not know how I can return the favor,” Kilby said, futilely wishing Fayne was at her side.

Fayre pressed a lace handkerchief into her hand. “You have already repaid us a thousand times over.”

Confused, Kilby looked blankly at the young woman. “Pray, how? My connection to your family from the very beginning was an imbroglio.”

Maccus crossed his arms and chuckled. “When you know the Carlisles better, you will understand they thrive on adversity,” he said, earning a piercing glare from his wife. “Some of them even seek it out.”

“You are not being helpful,
Mac,
” Fayre warned, emphasizing his name as if the abbreviation held a private
significance between them. She turned back to Kilby. “There is no debt between family. Your arrival heralded a dark period for our family.”

Kilby felt shame burning hotly just beneath her skin. “I realize—”

“I do not think you do,” Fayre countered quietly. “My father’s death was difficult for all of us. Although he tried to hide it from the rest of us, Fayne took the duke’s death the hardest. Hot-blooded . . . hurting. My mother and I were concerned that we were going to lose him as suddenly as we did my beloved father. My brother was beginning to slip away from us, Kilby, until he met you. In his bleakest days, you pulled him away from the precipice of his reckless nature. For that alone, I am eternally grateful you came into our lives.”

Kilby stood up and used the handkerchief to stem the tears forming in her eyes. Fayre’s words felt like a warm, healing balm over her raw nerves. She laughed lightly as her thoughts switched to Fayne. “If something happens to your brother while he hunts down Archer, you may regret your kind words.”

Maccus moved away from the window and stood behind his wife. Fayre reached up and patted the hand he had tenderly placed in silent support on her shoulder. “Carlisle has too much to live for now to be careless,” he said.

If she did not leave the room immediately, she was going to have a very humiliating cry in front of the Brawleys. “I should check on Gypsy. There is no telling what mischief she has gotten herself into wandering about your fine house.”

“Dear me, you are in love with him.”

Kilby’s hand hovered over the door latch at Fayre’s statement.

Fayre cocked her head inquiringly, her cinnamon-colored curls, bouncing saucily against her shoulder. “My brother
thinks you agreed to marry him because you needed protection from that dastardly brother of yours. However, you had another reason, did you not?” Fayre slowly smiled as she closely observed Kilby’s face. “How delightful! Tell me, is Fayne aware that you fell in love with him?”

Kilby closed the door, listening for the inner mechanism of the latch to click. Inhaling deeply, she leaned against the door and waited for the deafening pounding in her ears to stop

Tell me, is Fayne aware that you fell in love with him?

She had met Fayre twice. How could the lady deduce a revelation Kilby herself was still reconciling in her heart? Did she wear the answer to Fayre’s question so plainly on her face? And what of Fayne? What did his entrancing green eyes see when he stared thoughtfully down at her?

The notion that her feelings were on the surface for everyone to see was disconcerting. It felt as if someone had stripped her down to her soul, leaving her vulnerable. After everything that had occurred, it was a prickly sensation even if it was one of the noblest of sentiments.

She had to get out of this house.

Kilby moved away from the door and strode down the passageway that led to the stairs. She had walked down as far as the first landing of the horseshoe-shaped staircase before she stopped and recalled her promise. Resting her hand on the decorative support posts, she glanced curiously downstairs, wondering if Gypsy was on one of the upper floors. At the moment, hiding from everyone seemed like a grand plan.

“Your Grace, there ye are,” Hobbs said, approaching from below. “Had enough of that pair, did ye? Can’t say I blame ye, with them always tickling and kissing one another in all parts of the house. No place is safe.”

“Oh.” Kilby glanced up in the direction of the drawing room. The butler’s opinion of the Brawleys was certainly
enlightening. Her gaze returned to Hobbs who was watching her expectantly. “Oh, no . . . they were not . . . I was not—”

“A bit tiring on the eyes, isn’t it? We’ll say no more of it,” the servant assured her. Before she could clear up the misunderstanding, Hobbs offered the folded note in his hand to her. “A boy just delivered this for ye. I’m supposed to put such things on the silver salver we have for such occasions. Regrettably, I seem to have misplaced it.”

She accepted the note. Opening the note, she frowned as she read the message. “Oh, dear.”

“There, there . . . not to worry, Your Grace. It’ll turn up one day,” he said, before launching into an amusing tale about a missing cuspidor.

Kilby did not hear a single word of it.