Rules for Reforming a Rake (35 page)

There it was again, her sister and Graelem exchanging worried glances. Did they know something she didn’t?

At first, Daisy worried that there might be trouble with the baby, then realized Laurel would not be sitting contentedly in her husband’s arms if something were physically wrong with mother or child. She wasn’t about to upset them by suggesting there was.

“Very well, I’ll sit with you a little longer.” She returned to her seat, picked up her book and resumed reading where she’d left off.

Laurel eased back once more and rested her head against her husband’s chest.

A short while later, Daisy tried again to leave the lovebirds alone. Again, they refused to allow her out of their sight. She adored her sister and Graelem, they’d made her feel more than welcome, but being together for the entire day was quite enough. Didn’t they desire privacy? Or did they believe she was too unbalanced to be left alone? Goodness! They couldn’t!

Daisy snapped her book shut.

Her sister let out a snore.

“Take her to bed, Graelem. She obviously needs her sleep.”

Nodding, he nudged his wife upright and lifted her into his arms. “It’s late, my love,” he said when she stirred.

“Oh, I must have dozed off. Where’s Daisy? I must stay with Daisy.”

“I’m right here. What is going on? Will one of you please tell me?”

It happened again. The pair turned to each other, exchanged knowing glances, and then turned back to her.

“There, you’ve done it again. Why do you keep doing that? Do I have red spots on my face?”

Laurel laughed nervously. “Of course not. What a silly thing to say.”

“You keep giving me these pitying looks. I will admit I was quite overset this morning, but I’m better now. The crisis has passed. Father has refused Lord Malinor... and I don’t care about missing the Washburn’s ball tonight, or missing Lady Ashton’s musicale tomorrow, not that I’d be welcomed there anyway, even as Gabriel’s wife.
Lady Dayne.
Goodness, that sounds so odd. A wife and a lady. Nice, but odd.”

Laurel cast her an indulgent smile. “You’ll reconcile with the family as soon as they’ve had the chance to calm down. All will return to normal within a few days... that is, what passes for normal in the Farthingale household.”

Graelem chuckled as well, but his merriment quickly faded. “I know this next month will be rough on you. We’ll do our best to help you through it. I think you’ll be good for Gabriel. He thinks so too or he wouldn’t have married you. You’ll work it all out if he returns.”

“You mean,
when
he returns.” Daisy clenched her hands around the book she was still holding.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Graelem tried to sound casual, but Daisy saw that he’d paled a little upon realizing his mistake.

“Of course.” Daisy tried to dismiss the comment, but in her heart she knew that Graelem had said what he’d meant... what he’d feared... that Gabriel’s mission was dangerous, the odds heavily stacked against his survival.

If he returns.

Oh, mercy! That explained their looks of pity. Neither of them believed Gabriel would survive.

***

Gabriel and Ian spurred their horses to a gallop as they approached the White Stag Inn shortly after midnight, eager to be out of the unrelenting cold that was accompanied by a driving rain. The inn, located inland about a day’s ride north of London, was on the well-traveled road between Luton and Peterborough. Gabriel had taken the detour north as a precaution, on the chance they had been followed. At daybreak, they would continue north, then swing sharply eastward and ride hard toward the seaport of Harwich, where he was to board a ship waiting to sail him to France.

Two lanterns burned brightly above the inn’s entrance, a welcoming beacon in the night. The proprietor, familiar with Ian, heard their approach and rushed out to greet the riders. “Come in, Yer Grace! And yer friend be most welcome!” he said, smiling at Gabriel. “Leave yer horses in me son’s capable hands. He’ll take excellent care of them fine beasts. Ye must be hungry and thirsty. Will ye be wanting... er, the usual female attentions?”

“No,” Gabriel said, receiving a surprised look from Ian. “That is, not for me. His Grace will speak for himself.”

Ian shot him a questioning glance and nodded thoughtfully, seeming to understand this was not the time to tease him about Daisy. Their jovial banter would be saved for the next society ball, if he lived to attend another ball. To his surprise, Ian also refused the offer of a girl to warm his bed.

“What do you think?” Ian asked later, once they had finished their meal of smoked quail and roasted potatoes, and washed it down with some excellent dark ale. “Did you notice anyone behind us?”

“No. Seems our plan is on course.” He quickly scanned the common room, giving it a final look, but no one had come in after them and the travelers already present seemed harmless enough.

“Then it’s off to Harwich in the morning.” Ian glanced at one of the pretty serving maids and sighed. “Too bad I’ve decided to follow your example and become a monk. She would have given me a soft ride tonight to take the edge off the hard ride awaiting us in the morning.”

Realizing the duke would not ask for her, the girl went off with another traveler, giggling as the gentleman tossed her a shiny coin and led her upstairs.

Gabriel poured himself another ale and one for Ian. The two of them sat in companionable silence watching the fire flicker in the hearth and listening to the rain fall on the thatch roof in muffled splatters. Wind howled in the distance, but the inn was well built and protected against unwanted drafts.

“Well, are you going to say something or must I?” Ian asked, finally breaking the silence. “Go ahead. We’re alone now. Everyone, including the proprietor, has retired for the evening.”

Gabriel glanced around. In truth, he’d been too lost in thoughts of Daisy to notice.

“Get it out of your system before you sail, Gabriel. I don’t want that seething anger of yours to jeopardize the mission. Once you’re in France, your only goal, your only concern, must be to destroy the French supply lines. Shall I help you along?” He shifted in his chair and leaned forward. “Old Malinor’s a bastard.”

Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “We’ve known that all along. He’s always been a bastard.”

“So’s his son.”

“He’s even worse than the father.” Gabriel gripped his mug of ale so tightly the handle threatened to break. “The conniving whelp, what does he want with Daisy? He doesn’t love her.” He slammed his fist on the table. “He can’t love her.”

 “It doesn’t matter. She refused him, married you instead. Hell, I still can’t believe it. You, married. I suppose our sacred pact is shot to pieces.”

“No broken hearts, no grieving widows,” Gabriel said quietly. “That’s the worst part of this assignment, knowing I’ll soon make her a widow.” He didn’t bother to hide the pain in his eyes as he met Ian’s gaze. “I’ll need you and Graelem to look after Daisy for me. I don’t trust those Malinors. Auguste wants something from her, or wants to hurt me... or her... or both of us.
Hell.
She’ll be vulnerable. He’ll try to use it to his advantage.”

Ian shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about Daisy. The little baggage has such faith in you, such love for you. She’ll cut him to ribbons if he tries anything.”

It was quite something that she loved him, felt so good to have her stand by him even as false rumors of his character spread. He’d felt empty for so long, he’d forgotten that feelings such as pride, happiness, or respect still existed. “She is something special,” he said with a light grin, “even if she did almost destroy our mission.”

Ian shook his head and let out a genuine laugh. “Imagine, the course of the world completely undone by a pair of soft, blue eyes.”

Gabriel felt the ache in his heart. “Ah, yes. Helen of Troy and Daisy Farthingale. Daisy hasn’t quite changed the world yet, but she’s changed me. I returned home wanting to die and the little nuisance somehow gave me reason to live.”

“You might want to mention that to her upon your return,” Ian said, his voice suddenly sounding tight. Perhaps it hadn’t been quite the right thing to say to Ian, a man who’d gone through life without anyone to care whether he lived or died. Not even Ian seemed to care about his own survival.

Gabriel nodded. “Protect her until then.”

“I will. I promise.” Ian smacked his palms against his thighs and rose. “Since I don’t have that special someone to make my life complete, I’ll have to make up in quantity what I lack in quality. If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with a buxom redhead called... oh, damn, I turned down the offer, didn’t I?” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Guess I’ll retire
alone
to my quarters.”

Gabriel grinned. “You could find yourself a snoopy Farthingale of your own.”

Ian gave a mock shudder. “No. And don’t think to do me any favors. I’m perfectly content to remain a bachelor for the rest of my days.”

Gabriel stayed behind to watch the fire die in the hearth before walking upstairs and settling into his sparse but clean room. He collapsed onto the bed, too fatigued to do more than kick off his boots. Breathy female moans, masculine growls, and the sound of wooden bed slats creaking filtered in from next door, no doubt the maid Ian had passed up now with another traveler. He tried to shut out the noise, but his last thoughts before drifting off to sleep were of Daisy and how perfectly she would fit in this bed beside him.

“LAUREL, YOU LOOK ASHEN.”
Daisy set down her fork and pushed away from the breakfast table. She stared at her sister, then at Graelem. The pair were seated across from her, Graelem shoveling his breakfast into his mouth as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks. No doubt it was a ruse to avoid talking to her. More to the point, to avoid answering her questions about Gabriel and his mission.

She
had
meant to ask more about it, but Laurel’s condition was of greater concern at the moment. Laurel hadn’t touched her food, an alarming circumstance since until this morning, she had been inhaling portions large enough to feed a regiment.

“Sweetheart?” Graelem set down his fork as well and was about to raise his teacup to his lips, but stopped to study his wife. “Aren’t you hungry? Do you feel ill?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, scowling at both of them. “I wish you two would stop fussing over me. Daisy’s the one who ought to be fussed over.”

“No, I’m not.” Quite the opposite, Daisy wished to remain quietly on her own, but not before she had more answers from Graelem. As she was about to toss him more questions, Laurel suddenly bent over and let out a soft gasp.

Daisy forgot about her own woes and quickly reached over to clasp Laurel’s hand. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

Laurel managed a nod and suddenly gasped again. “I think my water just broke!”

Daisy and Graelem were up at once, Graelem sweeping his wife into his arms and shouting orders to his staff while Daisy hastily wrote a note and had a footman deliver it to her parents at the Farthingale townhouse. At the same time she summoned a second footman to fetch the midwife. Once both servants were on their way, she ran upstairs to help make Laurel comfortable.

It felt like an eternity, but could not have been more than half an hour, before her other sisters scrambled out of the Farthingale carriage and hurried up the steps to the front door. Daisy hurried downstairs and was waiting for them in the entry hall as Billings opened the door. She was thankful that Rose, the eldest, had come along with the twins.

“I happened to be dropping off a book for Lily when the footman arrived,” Rose explained, efficiently removing her gloves, bonnet, and pelisse before turning to hug her.

“The midwife hasn’t arrived yet,” Daisy began to prattle at once, “and I don’t know what I’m doing.” Laurel going into labor wasn’t her only problem. Daisy needed a capable hand to tend to Graelem, who was in a state, ranting as he paced up and down the hall outside of the bedchamber. Rose was just the one to handle him. After all, she now ran a successful pottery operation that rivaled the Wedgwood family establishment, so how hard would it be for her to manage an overset husband?

Rose also had experience with childbirth and could answer questions about it that neither she nor the twins could.

“Where’s Graelem now?” Rose asked as they climbed the stairs and reached the landing only to find no one in the hallway. “I thought you said he was pacing outside the door.”

“He was. Oh, dear. He must be inside with Laurel.” Daisy hurriedly led them into the bedchamber that Laurel and Graelem shared. It wasn’t the thing for husbands and wives to share quarters, but Farthingales were not known for their adherence to the rules of Polite Society. Laurel had insisted on sharing her husband’s bed. Rose had demanded the same of her husband, Julian. Neither man had voiced complaint. In truth, each seemed remarkably content with the arrangement.

Daisy wondered whether Gabriel would consent to similar terms when he returned.
When he returned
. She repeated the words in her mind, for she wasn’t about to let him die. She’d go to France herself to save him if she could.

Laurel moaned, regaining her attention. She was stretched out on the bed, Graelem seated on a stool beside the bed clutching her hand. Graelem glanced up to acknowledge their presence, utter panic and despair etched in his proud features. “Laurel’s having our baby.”

Dillie managed not to roll her eyes at the obvious statement. “I know,” she said gently. “That’s why we came as fast as we could.”

Daisy tried not to cringe, but she knew Graelem was a disaster in the making. Rose, as capable as she was, would not be able to handle him on her own. The twins would have to help keep him downstairs and out of the way once the midwife arrived. “Lily, did Amos come with you, by any chance?”

Lily adjusted the spectacles on her pert nose and nodded.

“Good. Take him with you to find Uncle George and bring him here.”