Martha Schroeder (4 page)

Glaring at her cousin, she picked up a glass at random and drained it. Only when she felt the fiery liquid burn its way down her throat did she realize she’d gotten some gentleman’s brandy glass by mistake.

Her eyes watered, and she began to sputter. Before Eustace or Lady Maltby could take action, Gideon crossed the room in two strides and thumped her sharply on the back. He sniffed the air appreciatively. When she stopped coughing, he looked down into her rosy face and said, “When did you take up brandy, Amy?”

Eyes tearing, she grinned up at him and gasped, “It certainly has a greater effect than tea. I can see why you gentlemen prefer it. Unfortunately, I drank it too fast. Thank you for that mighty blow.” She turned to Eustace, still standing and staring. “I suppose I must grant that you are right, Eustace. I do sometimes need someone with a strong right arm to rescue me.” She gave him what she hoped was a friendly smile, but Eustace did not respond. He continued to stare at her and Gideon, his eyes dark and unblinking.

“Mama and I would like to move into Doncaster House next week,” he said, his voice harsh. “If that would be convenient, of course,” he added, clearly as an afterthought.

“It might be better to discuss this in private, Eustace. Perhaps you and Cousin Hortense will call on me to discuss it.”

She felt Gideon move to her side, his arm protectively at her back. The way he would stand with a comrade in arms, she thought, warmed by that status.

“Mannering,” Gideon said, his deep voice resonant with warning.

“Doncaster,” Eustace responded. His face was a mask, only the eyes betraying emotion. They were molten with fury. “I am the Duke of Doncaster, Falconer—or whatever your name may be.”

“I will expect you and Cousin Hortense,” Amelia said.

Though Eustace opened his mouth, Amelia’s air of quiet command stilled his protest. With Lady Maltby staring at him, obviously amazed that he would discuss such private family business in front of callers, and with Gideon glaring at him, he was left with nothing to do except to agree and bow himself out.

Gideon waited until the last of the visitors had been shown out. Then he came to Amelia and took her by the arm. He led her, unresisting, to a comfortable settee.

“Sit here and rest your mind for a few minutes,” he said, concern for her apparent in the deep quiet of his voice.

“It’s not my mind, it’s my feet that need rest,” she replied. With a sigh she toed off her kid slippers and wiggled her toes. “What made you come today, Gideon? I know how you hate calls.”

“I suspected that Eustace would be here. I am not about to let you face him alone, Amy.”

She smiled. “I am not afraid of him, you know.”

Gideon frowned. “Perhaps you should be. He is a very angry man, and angry men can do unexpected things.”

“I was happy to see you. It is always good to have you here. How long do you stay at Horse Guards, do you think?” Amelia wanted to be distracted from the unsettled state of her life. She knew she should be thinking of the future, of what she would do, where she would go, but somehow no answers occurred to her. She wanted only to live from day to day without troubling herself about the large, unanswered questions of her life.

But Gideon, who knew her better than anybody except her father, of course, was not to be distracted. “I can have a carter here tomorrow. He can put everything in storage until you decide where you are going to live.”

She frowned, forced by his words to concentrate on a future she couldn’t see clearly. “I don’t know, Gideon. Somehow it seems wrong to take everything. After all, Eustace is the duke, the head of the family—such as it is. I’m not sure—”

“We’ll go through the house, and you can decide what should be left for the duke and what you want.” He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. “Mrs. MacAdams and Somers can help you with the practicalities like linens and pots.” His hands slid down her arms to clasp her hands lightly in his large, warm ones. “Shall we begin?”

Amelia sighed. She wanted only to rest by the fire and let the slight melancholy that had afflicted her since her father’s death wash over her. But she knew Gideon. Once he had decided that you ought to do something for your own good, he would not rest until he had helped you do it. As a child, he had seen to it that Amelia’s sums were done correctly, and there was no deflecting him with ponies or picnics until they were. Now he was making sure that through fatigue and inattention she did not leave her father’s things for Eustace and his mother to use.

“Do not leave him anything that he might pawn,” Gideon said. “You don’t want your father’s belongings in some cent-per-center’s window.”

Amelia nodded, and Gideon led the way to the duke’s library. “I will make the list,” he said, “while you look about you and tell me what you want taken.”

* * * *

Amelia awaited her cousins two days later with carefully concealed anger. She had sent word to Eustace, naming the hour that she would welcome him and his mother. The note she had received in reply had been very ungracious.

Amelia had been angry. She prided herself on her even temper and quiet disposition, but Eustace and his mother managed to rouse the devil in her soul. She admitted to herself that there was something so repellent as to be almost frightening about Eustace and Hortense. They were always smiling, and yet she had the unmistakable feeling that they could smile and smile and still be villains. She could have used a staunch cavalry officer at her back as she tried to buy time to pack up her belongings and leave.
Nonsense!
She needed no help from Gideon—or any man.

When they finally arrived, she greeted the new duke and his mother, offered them coffee and, after they had drunk it, amid exclamations of its excellence and her goodness in serving it to them, she showed them around the house. As they made their way from room to room, Amelia felt a lump lodge itself in her throat. Everything, every piece of furniture, picture, and ornament reminded her of her father and of happier times. The mahogany desk that he had used every day. The brilliantly colored Sienese landscape painting he had told her made him smile every time he saw it. The silver sugar shaker with the dent where it had hit the floor when she had tried to use it all by herself at age four. Everything. She was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude toward Gideon, who had known she would feel this way and had insisted she keep what she most treasured. When they descended once more to the book room, Amelia forced herself to smile, though the vulpine expression on Cousin Hortense’s face repulsed her.

“My dear, I know it must pain you to leave this behind,” Hortense said, all but rubbing her hands in anticipation.

Amelia paused, wondering if Hortense had forgotten that the contents of the house had not been left to her son. Before she could think of what to say, Somers entered to announce Captain Falconer, and Gideon strode into the room on his heels.

“Amelia, Mrs. Mannering, Eustace,” he said, completely ignoring the titles to which the Mannerings were now entitled. “I thought I might find you here. I came to tell Amy that I have found a carter who can come to take what you want and keep it in storage until you can decide on another dwelling.”

Amelia noticed in passing that Cousin Hortense’s face had turned a shade of red that reminded her of her father’s best claret—crimson with just a hint of purple.

“What do you mean, thrusting your way in here? You have intruded on a family conference.” Hortense’s eyes narrowed. “I know you have been permitted to run tame in this house for years, but my son and I do not subscribe to the strange social ideas of the late duke. We do not entertain mongrels, nor do we allow them access to the young, unmarried girls of the family.” Hortense drew herself up and puffed her substantial bosom out like a pouter pigeon. “I would ask you to leave, sir.”

Gideon stood motionless and silent for a moment, then he gave Hortense a look that would have frozen the marrow of a far braver soul. She gave a start and took an involuntary step backward.

Amelia’s cool voice took command before Gideon could speak. “Captain Falconer is a guest in my home, Cousin Hortense. I will be leaving here just as soon as possible. After that, it will be your home, and you may bar the door to anyone you see fit. Until that time, Gideon will be welcome here whenever he chooses to come.”

Utter silence followed. Hortense’s mouth hung open at an unbecoming angle, and Gideon’s eyes danced. He and Amelia shared a tiny smile. Neither of them saw the fury that swept over Eustace’s face, only to be quickly wiped away.

“I must say, I find all this family brangling to be most fatiguing,” he said, his voice almost a parody of a die-away dandy. “Do let us go, Mama. I am sure Cousin Amelia has much to discuss with the gallant captain.” Eustace’s malicious smile warned Gideon that he had made an enemy.

Much he cared for that! If only he could find a way to keep Amelia safe and happy as she had been while her father lived, Gideon would consider any enmity well worthwhile.

“Mannering.” Gideon managed a bow. “Amelia will inform me when you and your mother may take up residence here. I will avoid the street entirely after that date.”

“Doncaster,” Eustace said through clenched teeth. “Really, that is an excess of caution. I do assure you, I have no desire to deny you the use of the public streets.” Eustace tittered, but his eyes remained cold as agates.

“Heavens, no,” Hortense interjected. She placed a restraining hand on her son’s arm.

“You misunderstand me.” Gideon’s voice was even. “It is the pervading stench of your scent I wish to avoid.” Another how, and he walked away toward the other end of the room before Eustace, his face growing paler by the moment, could respond.

Amelia looked at her cousin and his mother, apprehension tingeing her practiced smile. “Cousin Hortense, I hope you will feel free to come at any time to measure the rooms and consider whatever changes you may wish to make.”

“Thank you, my dear, but I must reiterate our invitation not just for the holidays but for the future as well.” Hortense’s hand tightened on her son’s sleeve. “My son wishes it as well, do you not, Eustace?” Her voice held a warning. “Captain Falconer does not enter into the matter at all.” Amelia could see a thin line of perspiration break out on Cousin Hortense’s upper lip. “All that matters is you, Amelia. Is that not so, Eustace?”

But Eustace was still staring after Gideon. He either had not heard his mother or chose to ignore her words. “You can take a gypsy lad out of the caravans and camps, but apparently even your sainted father could not remove the stink of them from the boy, no matter how dashing his uniform.” He turned his unwinking gaze on Amelia, and a shiver ran up her spine at the malevolence she saw burning there with a cold flame. “Your servant, cousin.” Eustace shook off his mother’s restraining grip, bowed, and left the room, his step jerky with what Amelia was sure was suppressed rage.

“Well! Oh, my.” Hortense cleared her throat and essayed a tentative smile. “I am afraid that Eustace sometimes allows his feelings to overcome his manners. It is the result of an excess of sensibility.” Her smile widened as she warmed to her subject. “You must know the tender feelings Eustace cherishes for you, my dear Amelia. It causes him to behave rather badly when he feels another man might have dreams above his station.”

Amelia had heard all she could bear from her Mannering cousins. There was not a syllable of truth in anything they had said. That Eustace cared for her was absurd! He wished only to find a way to ensure that the Bradshaw money would follow the Bradshaw title into his hands! As for Hortense, she wanted whatever Eustace wanted.

“I do not wish to discuss Captain Falconer,” Amelia said, her tone as cold as she could make it. “He was my father’s ward and is my friend.
He
has no interest in my fortune, but only in my welfare.”

If Hortense heard the slight emphasis Amelia placed on the pronoun, she gave no sign. “Of course, my dear. I am sure Eustace will apologize when next he sees you.” She extended her hand. “If you do not mind, I will take my leave of you now. Please do not on any account make any plans for the future before we have a chance to discuss them.” Another meaningless smile and a pat on the cheek. Amelia had difficulty not flinching away from the unwelcome touch. “I stand as your only female relative now, Amelia. As a young, unmarried girl, you must allow yourself to be guided by me in matters of ton.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia could see Gideon approaching, his frown still in place. She decided to let the idea of being guided by Hortense go unchallenged for the moment. To avoid another set-to, she smiled and bowed her cousin out of the room before Gideon arrived at her side.

“Interfering busybody,” she muttered as the door closed behind Hortense. “How dare Eustace talk about you that way!”

“As if I were some gypsy brat?” Gideon shrugged. “It’s most likely exactly what I am, Amy. They aren’t the only ones who look at me askance, and wonder what you and your father were thinking of to take me in as you did.”

“Father was prouder of you than anything else in his life, Gideon.” Amelia reached out to touch his arm. “And you are the best friend I have ever had. Nothing anyone else says will ever alter that!”

His hand came out to cover hers. “I hope you are right, Amy. But Society can be cruel, particularly now that the duke is no longer here to protect you. I will never tarnish your reputation by my presence. Promise me that if I ever become a detriment to your standing in the
ton
, or threaten to ruin your chances, you will tell me.”

“My chances for what, Gideon?” Amelia’s hand tingled under the warm clasp of his. “An advantageous marriage? How many times must I tell you that I have no desire for any such thing?”

“You may well change your mind now that your father is gone. There is nothing wrong with wanting a man by your side, to help you over the rough spots.”

“Now you sound just like Cousin Hortense,” Amelia said, more annoyed by Gideon’s masculine incomprehension than she cared to admit. How could he fail to see how much more his friendship meant to her than some hypothetical marriage?