Kane, Samantha - Brothers in arms 7 (32 page)

Sarah snorted. “He is an ignorant fool and hardly signifies.”

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Gideon laughed as he moved toward her. “My dear, most men can be described thusly.”

He stopped right in front of her and she rested her hands on his chest as she looked at him anxiously. “You would disparage your sex?”

Gideon nodded in mock seriousness. “I am in a position to do so, being one myself.” He nuzzled her temple. “Don’t worry, Sarah. You shall conquer London as you have me.”

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Chapter Twenty-Three

“Are you sure you won’t come in?” Sarah asked anxiously, peering into the carriage.

Gideon turned to see Peters lean out the door with a weak smile. “No thank you. I am not up to any of Randall’s sanctimonious lectures today.”

Gideon’s step faltered, and not because of his new prosthesis. “Perhaps we should send a note to Charles instead,” he mused. He did not relish Lord Jason Randall cornering him with a heartfelt lecture today either.

Peters laughed and closed the carriage door with a snap. “Oh no, you don’t,” he told Gideon through the window. “You have to do a little bowing and scraping. Borden deserves as much, and in front of witnesses.”

“What about me?” Sarah whined plaintively with a little grin. “Do I have to bow and scrape?”

“Never, my dear Mrs. North,” Peters said gallantly. “You are here so that when Borden dismisses Gideon’s abject misery he’ll see that there is more to come home to than this ugly fellow.”

Gideon preened as he adjusted his hat. “I though the beaver quite fetching, actually, not to mention this new block of wood.” He looked down at the tip of the prosthesis poking out from under his pant leg. He still wasn’t used to seeing another full leg there.

It disoriented him a little each time he saw it. He looked back up at Peters and dropped his teasing tone. “I want you to know that I appreciate what you’ve done, Peters.”

Peters waved at him dismissively. “It’s my job to know the best prosthesis makers in London. But you were robbed. I didn’t have the heart to tell you how much he overcharged.”

“That’s not all I meant and you know it.”

Peters dismissed him again. “I have no idea what you are talking about. My time at Blakely Farm is a blur, I’m afraid. I was exhausted and quite, quite drunk.” He pointed accusingly at Gideon. “And for that, sir, I hold you accountable.” He tapped the roof of the carriage with his fist. “Driver, save me from Randall. Away!” The carriage lurched as Gideon watched Sarah wave.

Sarah turned and walked back to him, taking his arm in hers. Without a word they turned as one and faced the house. Beside him he saw Sarah straighten her shoulders and take a deep breath.

“Do I look all right?” she asked. He almost snorted at the womanly question.

“You look beautiful,” he answered honestly. And she did. She wore some sort of military style hat in blue and green that made her cheeks look pink and her eyes shine.

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Her gorgeous blonde hair peeked out around the edges. She’d done something different with it, but he wasn’t sure what. He liked it. “You look good in blue.”

Sarah smiled at him. “I’ve been told that before.” She took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

At his nod she tugged him forward and he made his slow way to the steps. He wasn’t used to the new leg yet. He was still relying heavily on a cane, but he felt freer than he had in years. He was actually walking. His hip and leg were protesting the weight. He supposed it would take some getting used to. But by God, he was going to walk in there and claim Charles. It was a heady feeling.

* * * * *

Charles’ eyes nearly crossed with boredom as he listened to Tony Richards brag for the tenth—or was it twentieth?—time about the fact his son took three steps without falling today and he was only ten months old. He felt vaguely guilty for not caring one fig so he listened politely.

Peters was supposed to have sent a note after seeing Gideon and Sarah. Perhaps he didn’t remember that promise? He’d been rather drunk when Charles had loaded him into the hired coach. Or it may be he was too busy trying to save Gideon’s life to write.

Gideon might even now be on his deathbed.

“Excuse me,” a voice drawled and someone picked up Charles’ arm by the wrist.

Richards stopped talking and Charles turned in surprise to Simon Gantry. “Oh good,”

Simon said with relief. “He still has a pulse.” He gestured behind him at Daniel Steinberg and Derek Knightly, who were laughing at his expense. “We were afraid you’d bored him to death, Richards.” He waved across the room and called, “He’s fine!

Everyone can stop worrying.”

Even Richards smiled reluctantly as the room burst into guffaws. “I suppose I may be talking about it a little too much?” he asked with good humor.

“Perhaps a tad,” Simon agreed, nodding sagely. “We’re all avoiding you until the boy leaves for Eton.”

“Harrow,” Richards said distinctly as he turned and walked toward his lovers, Lord and Lady Randall. “Eton,” he mumbled and shuddered.

“I went to Eton,” Simon said, affronted.

Charles bit his lip to keep from laughing. Simon regarded him with a jaundiced eye.

“Still holding out, eh?” he asked. “How long before you go running back to Ashton on the Green?”

Charles sighed dejectedly. “That obvious, is it?” He twisted his neck, trying to relieve the tension there. “I don’t like London. There’s too many people, and I don’t fit in here.” He smiled grimly. “I’m a country boy, you know, a farm lad.”

“You may have been once,” Simon said as he casually gestured a footman with a tray over to them. He put his empty glass on the tray. “Another, if you would, please,”

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he asked and then turned back to Charles. “But not anymore. You’re more than that now.”

“But not enough.” Charles failed to keep all the bitterness out of his voice.

“Don’t be a bore,” Simon told him, accepting a full glass of whiskey from the footman. “Thank God Kate serves more than tea at tea,” he said fervently and took a sip. “We don’t look down on you, do we? Is there someone else you’d rather be socializing with who does? If we are not good enough, feel free to leave.”

Charles sighed in frustration. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I had to deal with some very aggravating attitudes today when negotiating for a horse. It’s meant to be a surprise for North, but at this rate I’m not sure I can pull it off.”

Simon merely cocked a brow at him.

Charles closed his eyes briefly in mortification. “Can I say I’m sorry again? I’ve fallen into a pit of self-pity and I can’t seem to find my way out.”

“Ah yes, my old friend the pit of self-pity,” Simon drawled. “I like to crawl in there now and then. It’s so dark and cozy.”

“Shut up, Gantry,” Knightly said, shoving the other man out of the way. “The lot of you with your self-pitying ways. Makes a man want to vomit.” He turned to Charles.

“No one turns away good money, Borden. Shove it in their face and they’ll take it. To hell with their attitudes. I’m no gentleman either, and it’s never stopped me.”

Simon shook the spilled whiskey off his hand. “No, I daresay not, Knightly,” he agreed sarcastically. “But then being the size of an ox helps prevents anyone from stopping you.”

“Who is trying to stop Derek?” a feminine voice inquired, and the men parted to allow Knightly’s lover, Mrs. Witherspoon, into their midst. She was a beauty, small and curvaceous, with auburn curls and sweet freckles on her nose. Charles ached to see Sarah’s long blonde hair instead. Mrs. Witherspoon wrapped her arm around Knightly’s and blinked innocently at Simon. “You’ve spilled your drink, Mr. Gantry.”

Knightly was also the lover of Mrs. Witherspoon’s husband. Charles felt a pang of homesickness like a punch to the gut. He wanted Sarah to claim him like that in front of a roomful of people. She would too. He missed her and Gideon so much. Maybe they didn’t need the Arabian he was here to buy. He should be at home with Gideon. If he’d let that damn doctor pour poison down his throat Charles would kill him.

“Really, Gantry,” Knightly said with disgust, handing him a handkerchief. There was a gleam of humor in his eye. “Can’t you hold your liquor?” Simon stood there glaring, speechless at Knightly’s effrontery.

“Good heavens, Simon, you’re all wet.” Miss Very Thomas, the Randalls’ niece, came up and glanced in distaste at Simon’s wet coat. “And you smell like a distillery.

Not that I’ve ever been in one, but I assume they smell like you.” She smiled around the group and linked arms with Mrs. Witherspoon. “Hello! How are you all? Enjoying Jason’s whiskey, are you? Drink it all up. He deserves it.”

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“Keeping Tarrant away again, is he?” Knightly growled. “You should listen to him, Very. Tarrant is not a nice fellow.”

“I like them that way, Derek,” she said defensively. “You are a thoroughly abominable fellow, and I like you, don’t I?”

Mrs. Witherspoon laughed. “Thoroughly abominable. Say your apologies to Simon, Derek.”

“Hmm, saw that, did you?” he muttered. “Apologies, Gantry.”

“I should say so,” Simon said with a sniff.

Miss Thomas leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “There, all better.” Simon just looked at her and she shrugged. “Well, it works for little Anthony.”

Simon groaned. “Isn’t this where I entered the conversation?”

The drawing room door opened and the Randall’s man announced, “Mr. and Mrs.

Gideon North,” and Charles’ heart stopped beating for a moment as he stood there and gaped at them.

They were gorgeous. Sarah was nervous as hell. He could see it in her eyes and the set of her shoulders. But she needn’t be. She was so bloody gorgeous she drew every male eye in the room. She smoothed her skirts. He didn’t remember her owning a dress cut that low. He frowned. What was Gideon thinking letting her wear that in here with all these men ogling her? He grinned at the hat. It was perfect, just as Mrs. Duncan said it would be.

He frowned again. She looked shorter next to Gideon. He stumbled back a step as Gideon took a step toward him. A step. With a cane, not crutches. Charles quickly looked down. He had a prosthesis. He’d been gone three bloody days and the stubborn fool went and got a prosthesis. Charles vowed then and there to storm off in anger more often.

He glanced in disbelief at Sarah. She was watching him with pleading eyes, and a bright red blush stained her cheeks. It was then he noticed the room was unnaturally quiet. He glanced around to see everyone looking between him and Gideon and Sarah.

Suddenly Lady Randall broke the silence.

“Welcome,” she said as she walked toward them, her hand outstretched. Lord Randall and Richards followed her.

“Lady Randall,” Gideon said formally with a small bow as he took her hand. “May I introduce my wife, Mrs. Sarah North?”

“How do you do?” Sarah murmured shyly.

“And this is my husband Lord Randall and our dear friend Mr. Anthony Richards,”

Lady Randall said without an ounce of embarrassment.

He could see the moment Sarah caught the implication. Her eyes widened. “How do you do?” she murmured again as first Randall and then Richards bowed over her hand.

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Randall clapped Gideon on the back. “So you’ve finally come back to London? It’s good to see you.” Gideon hardly spared him a glance. He was too busy staring intently at Charles.

Richards held out his arm to Sarah. It took her a moment to realize what he’d done, and she blushed again as she took it. Richards looked over at Charles. Without a word he led Sarah over to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and then could have kicked himself as she looked uncertain. “I mean…London. London?” He couldn’t think straight.

Sarah looked at everyone standing around and then a resolute look came over her face. She let go of Richards and took a step that brought her quite close to Charles. Too close for public scrutiny. She reached up and toyed with a button on his coat. “We came to fetch you home.”

“You did?” Charles was aware he sounded like an idiot, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

Sarah nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Do you want to come?” She looked up at him with those melting brown eyes, pleading with him.

He cupped her elbows in his hands. “Yes,” he said quietly.

Sarah’s arms slid around his waist and he gathered her close. She sniffed into his neckcloth. “Good,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Good,” Gideon said from over her shoulder.

Charles looked up at him and had to close his eyes for a moment his relief was so great. “You didn’t do it.”

Gideon shook his head. “No.” He looked down. “I got this instead. What do you think?”

Sarah wasn’t letting go of him. She had a death grip on his middle, as if afraid he would disappear. Charles looked over her shoulder and down to see the tip of the prosthesis poking out of Gideon’s pant leg. Charles nearly broke down and cried but he didn’t want to embarrass himself. “Not very pretty,” he choked out, “but it will do.”

Gideon feigned mock disappointment. “But I want pretty.”

Charles was stunned into speechlessness again. Gideon joking about his leg?

“Honestly, North,” Gantry drawled, “don’t be selfish. You’ve got enough pretty for one man.”

Charles looked over to see the other man eyeing him and Sarah appreciatively and it was his turn to blush. He supposed they all knew now, then, didn’t they? And he didn’t care. He hugged Sarah with a huge grin. He could see the smile in Gideon’s eyes.

“That thing really is ugly, North,” Knightly said. He hunkered down next to Gideon and actually knocked on his leg. “How does it work?” He yanked up Gideon’s pant leg. “Does it have a hinge of some sort?”

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Gideon smacked him on the shoulder with his cane. “Leave off, Knightly,” he growled. “Take offense if you like, but you are not the one I want manhandling my leg right now.”

Knightly actually had the grace to blush. “Sorry,” he mumbled. But he rubbed his chin contemplatively. “Come see me tomorrow. I’ve a few ideas rattling around about that. I’d like to show you some sketches. I think I’ve got a better design. You need one for riding too, correct?”

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