Elizabeth Thornton - [Special Branch 02] (25 page)

“A June wedding, Mama,” Judith said airily, winking at him. “I’ve always set my heart on being a June bride.”

“You won’t change your mind?” her mother asked.

“Oh, no. Not this time.”

“Good, because I’ve already spoken to the caterers.”

Sophie, the minx, cheerfully added coals to the fire. Eyes dancing, she chirped, “May I be one of your bridesmaids, Judith?”

“Of course. But I shall expect you, Gwyn, to stand up with me.” Then she’d turned those wide, guileless eyes upon him. “Do you suppose Jason will agree to give me away?”

He’d sat there like a block of marble, saying nothing, because in his book it wasn’t gentlemanly to contradict a lady in front of her mother. But he was biding his time, waiting for the moment when he could pounce on her and give her a piece of his mind.

He perched on the edge of a stuffed armchair as the milliner came forward to serve her customers. When she fetched the bonnet from the shop window, the ladies let out a collective sigh. Gwyn, however, took one look at the card with the price on it, swallowed hard, and turned away to examine other bonnets
that wouldn’t bankrupt her. There weren’t any, of course, and as first Sophie then Judith tried on the bonnet, she resolutely kept her back to them and stared out the shop window.

There were many people strolling along Ship Street, but there was one gentleman in particular who caught her eye. She’d seen him earlier as they’d come out of Judith’s house, but he’d hurried across the road as though he were late for an appointment, and she’d thought nothing more about it.

Evidently, he had retraced his steps. He was standing under the awning of a bootmaker’s shop, occasionally scanning the folded newspaper in his hand. From time to time, he glanced across the road at the milliner’s shop.

She drew back a little and studied him more closely—a man in his thirties, well dressed in a blue coat, though not as fashionable a coat as Brandon’s.

Just then, Sophie said, “Gwyn, why don’t you try on the bonnet? It doesn’t do a thing for Judith or me.”

“No, indeed,” said Judith, making a face. She removed the bonnet and held it out to Gwyn. “The color is all wrong. It makes us both look sickly.”

“What is it, Gwyn?” asked Brandon. “What are you staring at?”

She knew better than to mention the man in the blue coat to Brandon. He had agreed to this outing with the greatest reluctance. If she told him about the stranger, he would have them back at Haddo Hall before she could say her own name. And the stranger had evoked no real alarm in her.

“Bother,” she said, looking at Brandon, “I think it’s going to rain.”

As Gwyn took Judith’s place in front of the looking glass, Judith settled herself in the chair next to Brandon’s. This was the moment Brandon had been waiting for. Smiling into her eyes, he said, “I had no
idea you were planning a June wedding. Who is the lucky man?”

She gave him her profile and stared at Gwyn. “That color suits Gwyn, don’t you think?”

Brandon permitted himself a small smile. “Just as long as you and your mother understand that the lucky man won’t be me.”

“That’s ungrammatical.”

“Judith, did you hear me?”

She sighed and looked directly into his eyes. “You know you don’t mean that. You would never see me go to another man. You love me too much. One of these days, you’ll go too far and I’ll take you at your word.”

Brandon’s jaw dropped. “I wish you would.”

“Will you be serious?” she said angrily, flinging his own, oft-repeated words back at him.

She left him to exclaim over the bonnet and how well it suited Gwyn. Brandon was too stunned to be angry. He had always known that Judith was slightly fey, but now he was coming to seriously doubt her sanity.

Like a guilty schoolgirl, Gwyn used the servants’ staircase to get to her own room so that no one, least of all Grandmother Radley, would see the hatbox she carried. She still couldn’t fathom what insane impulse had provoked her to spend her hard-earned money on such a frivolous item of clothing. All the same, she was well aware that if anyone should offer her twice what she’d paid for her bonnet, she would tell them to go to Hades. There was the legacy, of course, but the interest from that could take months to accrue. And Jason was her trustee. He’d be shocked if he knew how much she’d spent on her
bonnet. She thought of Lady Daphne and snorted. No. Jason wouldn’t be shocked. He’d probably think it was a bargain.

Her evasive tactics were all for naught, because after dinner, when the ladies had retired to the drawing room, Sophie told everyone her guilty secret, and that set Grandmother off.

“Gwyn and her bonnets!” she exclaimed. “I remember …”

It seemed there wasn’t much that Grandmother didn’t remember, not only about Gwyn, but about Trish as well. Gwyn’s eyes frequently strayed to Trish, and they smiled. The scrapes that had once roused Grandmother’s worst ire were now amusing anecdotes; the pleasant reminiscences of an old woman.

No one laughed harder than Mark or Chris. They had been allowed to join the adults that evening because Chris and his parents were leaving in a few days to take him to Eton for the start of the new term. Then Trish and Gerry would return to their own home in Norfolk.

“Tell us about Cousin Jason,” Mark piped up when there was a lull in the laughter. “You haven’t mentioned Cousin Jason, Grandmama.”

Gwyn looked at her son and felt an odd pang. Mark fitted in with his Radley relations as though he’d known them all his life. Only that morning, he’d demanded to know why he couldn’t go off with Chris to Eton.
You’re too young
, she told him evasively.
Eton doesn’t accept boys until they’re eight years old
. She knew the interest from her legacy would cover Mark’s fees to Eton, if she ever decided to send him there, but the thought of losing him made her realize how alone she would be.

When Grandmother did not reply at once, Trish said in a bantering tone, “You’re asking the wrong
person, Mark. Grandmother doesn’t know the half of it. But your mother and I do, and since we are ladies, our lips are sealed forever.”

Sophie pounced on her sister’s remark. “Your lips are sealed? What does that mean? What do you know about Jason that I don’t know?”

Trish retreated a little. “He was a daredevil, that’s all I meant.”

“Jason?” Sophie looked from Trish to Gwyn. “Now this is truly interesting. I’m all ears.”

Grandmother rattled her cane, bringing all eyes to her. “Jason,” she said, in a tone that brooked no argument, “was no saint, but he never harmed anyone in his life. He has a heart of gold, and when he was put to the test, he showed his true colors. Look around you and see if I don’t speak the truth. We owe our happiness and prosperity to Jason. Maybe I didn’t always appreciate him as I should, but I assure you, I shall never make that mistake again.”

Her eyes touched briefly on each person present and she smiled. “I’m proud of all my offspring, proud of the way you’ve turned out. I should have trusted you more when you were younger, but then, wisdom comes with age, and I worried too much. If I was too hard on you, I apologize. On the other hand, why should I apologize when I’m proud of the way you turned out?”

She faltered a little, then went on, “I still miss George, and in spite of what happened, I’m convinced that if he had lived he would have turned himself around. He took a fall. It can happen to anyone. But we Radleys have always put duty first. I think George would have done his duty, if he had been spared.”

A look passed between Gwyn and Trish. They both knew what that meant. George would have had to marry for money to restore the family’s fortunes, supposing he could find a rich woman to marry him.

Sudden tears stung Gwyn’s eyes and she looked away. She didn’t know why she felt like crying.

The conversation had taken such a serious turn that everyone had lapsed into their own thoughts. Young Chris eventually broke the silence. “Mama,” he said, “was Papa a daredevil like Uncle Jason?”

His mother answered him absently. “There was no one quite like Jason.”

Grandmother Radley gave an indelicate snort. “I could tell you plenty about your papa, Chris, but because I’m a lady, my lips are sealed. Well, well,” she went on, when Chris beamed at her, “I’ve stayed up too long already.” She glanced at the clock. “Where is Jason? That’s what I want to know. He promised he would be back in time for dinner. I don’t like him traveling the roads at night.”

Sophie said, “Grandmama, he’s not in his dotage. He’s gone to London.” She looked pointedly at the boys. “Need I say more?”

Grandmother pinned her granddaughter with a steely eye. “One more word out of you, missy, and I shall box your ears. Now, give me your arm and help me to my room.”

As she got ready for bed, Gwyn was still dwelling on Sophie’s outrageous remarks, only maybe they weren’t as outrageous as she wanted to believe. She didn’t know why she was being so missish. As Sophie said, Jason wasn’t in his dotage, and now that Lady Daphne was out of the picture, he was free to find someone else to take her place.

He’d told her that he was going to London to confer with Richard Maitland, if he could be found, and Jason wouldn’t mislead her about a thing like that. No, Jason wouldn’t lie, but he was perfectly free to pursue his private life after he’d met with his friend. It was nothing to her.

She sat down at her dressing table, picked up her
hairbrush and attacked her tresses with enough violence to make her wince. When she saw Maddie staring at her in the mirror, she stopped and smiled weakly.

“I’m angry with myself,” she said, bending the truth a little, “for buying that cursed bonnet. I haven’t got a thing to go with it.”

Maddie smirked. “Then you’ll just have to
get
something to go with it, won’t you?” she said as she bounced from the room.

She was too keyed up to sleep, so she didn’t even try. After donning her woolen dressing gown, she prowled around the room. Jason, she assured herself, would be home before long. He knew how anxious she was to hear what Richard Maitland had to say.

When she heard a door close downstairs, Gwyn slipped into the corridor and listened. A peek over the banister showed her that one of the footmen was closing up the house for the night. She waited until he retreated to the servants’ quarters, then she descended the stairs and made for the library.

The fire in the library was reduced to embers, and the glow from them spilled onto the hearth. There was no shortage of coal in Haddo, so Gwyn banked up the fire without a twinge of guilt, then she curled up in Jason’s huge leather wing armchair to wait for him. From this vantage point, she could hear his steps much better than she could hear them from her own room.

She looked at the clock. If he had not come home by midnight, she decided, she would give up and go to bed.

I
t was after midnight when Jason entered the house. He made straight for his library, found the brandy decanter, and after pouring himself a short measure, quickly drank it back. Having poured himself another, he turned and took a step toward his favorite chair, then halted. Gwyn was there, curled up like a defenseless sleeping kitten.

There was no candle lit, but the red coals in the grate cast a warm glow. In that half light, she didn’t look like a grown woman, but like the girl he once knew. He stood there, staring down at her, his mind churning with a host of questions that only she could answer. He wanted to shake her awake; he wanted to hear from her own lips how much of what Barrie told him was the truth, and how much was a lie.

He took the chair on the other side of the fireplace, loosened his neckcloth, and sipped slowly from his glass, his gaze never wavering from Gwyn’s face. He didn’t want to believe Barrie, but things that had always bewildered him were now falling into place. He’d never understood how she could have loved George, and so soon after his death have eloped with another man. It made perfect sense now. She’d been carrying
George’s child. She’d had no one to turn to. He, God help him, was spending every waking moment with solicitors and creditors, trying to come up with a plan to stave off bankruptcy. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was in Derbyshire, finding a buyer for his own property, and that’s where he was when word of the elopement reached him.

At first, he’d been shocked, then he was angry, blazingly angry. He’d wanted to shake her, but his worst fury was reserved for Barrie. He’d wanted to kill Nigel Barrie a thousand times over. When his temper cooled, he knew he should go after her, if only to satisfy himself that she was in good hands. But pride held him back. She’d rejected him once too often, he remembered thinking. She had made her choice, and he had to accept it.

And she had paid the price for his pride.

The thought of her life with the Barries made him writhe inside. But there were other emotions tearing his control to shreds—jealousy, disappointment, and a slow-burning resentment.

As he stared at her sleeping form, his hand tightened around his glass till his knuckles showed white. He was thinking of George, the brother he had looked up to all his life. It was inconceivable to him that George would have taken advantage of an innocent young girl. But then, it was inconceivable that George would have gambled Haddo away, and that’s exactly what he’d done.