The Earl Claims His Wife (19 page)

Brian would be eternally thankful that his parents’ attitudes toward him had been one of benign neglect. It had allowed him to grow into a man.

“So, is this what you wanted to say to me?” Brian asked, wanting to bring the interview to a close.

“I hear you went to Huntleigh and brought back your wife.”

Brian wasn’t surprised he knew. It wasn’t a secret. “Of course I have her with me.”

His father’s tone turned conciliatory. “Gillian has a practical head on her shoulders. Her father has been invaluable to me on several occasions since your marriage. Keep her with you. The rift between you served no purpose.” He made his heavy sighs before concluding, “However, I would give up the baby.”

“Because?”

“He’s a loose end. A messy one. You can’t expect Gillian to raise another woman’s child. She’ll leave again and then where will you be?”

Brian sat back in stunned silence to hear his deepest fears spoken aloud.

“You like Gillian, don’t you?” his father said, accurately reading his silence. “You’ve discovered you didn’t make such a bad choice in a wife. She’s a much better choice than Jess. I warned you time would tell, and so it has.”

Brian found his voice. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” his father asked, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his coat sleeve.

“Know exactly your opponent’s darkest doubts. How do you go unerringly to point?”

“I know my opponent,” his father admitted, smiling freely.

Brian longed to wipe that smile from his face. “Well, you misjudged your mark this time,” he said.

“Gillian is very happy. I’m happy. The only person unhappy is you. You can’t control me and it annoys you, doesn’t it? You keep thinking there must be a way to bring me under your thumb, to make me vote your way, dance to your tune. There isn’t, Father. I might have done it out of respect at one time, but you killed that loyalty. You should have left Jess alone. She didn’t have the strength to fight a man like yourself or the knowledge of the cost. You played with her like a cat does a mouse.”

“No mouse, son. Women never lack resources, and most times they are the cat. That is what makes them so interesting. As for Gillian being happy, we shall see. What do you have? Thirty days and then she will be gone?”

How did he know that?

Brian smiled. “She is my wife. She’ll not be gone in thirty days.”

“Don’t be so certain of that,” his father advised him. “And you’d also best start to see to your attire.

Your neck cloth needs more starch. Hammond has been doing a wonderful job for me.”

“So he is in your employ,” Brian observed, trying to sound disinterested. He and the valet had been together for well over a decade.

“He’s always been in my employ,” his father informed him.

The news shocked Brian. Hammond had been the one person he’d trusted.

“I’ve always known what you were doing. I’ve almost known what you were thinking. No matter where you were or how far you were from me.”

Brian reached up and knocked on the roof of the coach. It was wiser than using his fist on his father’s smiling mouth. “We’d best part company here,” he said.

His father bowed his head. “As you wish, Wright.” However as Brian opened the door, he couldn’t resist one last salvo. “The ambassadorship to Holland will be offered to you, I suspect, within two weeks’ time. I expect you to take it.”

“I expect you will be disappointed.” Brian smiled. “You see, Father, I won’t be controlled. You may cut off funds, block invitations to soirees, toss babies aside, and I’ll still be my own lead. Because, after everything is said and done, I’m still your heir. Not even the marquess of Atherton has the power to overturn the rules of noble succession. In the end, no matter what games you play, I will win.”

The smile faded from his father’s face. His expression could have been set in stone. Reminding him of his mortality always had that impact. “You may leave now,” his father said. “But don’t forget, I always keep my aces close. There will come a day you will beg my forgiveness.”

“I doubt that.” Brian climbed out of the coach and shut the door. He watched the vehicle pull away before letting his temper consume him.

Mrs. Vickery was reporting to his father. There was no doubt in his mind. Why else would she be adamant about staying on as Cook when Gillian would have let her go?

Spying was a despicable act. Brian would not tolerate it. He couldn’t wait to turn Mrs. Vickery out of his house and let his father know he’d found him out. With that thought in mind, he started for home.

Sitting in the back room that overlooked the garden, Gillian set her sewing aside. The hour had to be close to half past four. Kate usually brought Anthony to her by now, fresh from his nap and awake.

This time of the day was becoming Gillian’s favorite because usually she had him all to herself.

It was becoming far too easy to think of Anthony as hers. He was a delightful baby. Now that he’d figured out how it was done he was full of smiles…and there were times she could almost dream she and Wright were a family. It was a forbidden dream. She’d always talk sense into herself almost immediately—and yet, she couldn’t stop the yearning.

She must also write Andres. She had yet to do so and she knew it wasn’t fair to him. It’s just that she wasn’t certain what she should write although she was becoming more certain that it would not be what he wanted to hear.

Gillian didn’t know if she would stay with Wright, but her confused feelings were signal enough that she could not give Andres what he wanted. It broke her heart to think she might hurt him, and yet, she had to be honest—

“My lady, my lady,” Kate’s shrill voice cried from the hall.

Gillian reached the doorway, just as Kate came running up, her face so pale her freckles seemed to float on her skin. “It’s Master Anthony,” the maid managed to gasp out.

Not waiting for further explanation, Gillian picked up her skirts and went running down the hall for the stairs. For once she was thankful this was a small house. It took her less than a minute to bound up the staircase and charge into the baby’s room—where she pulled up short.

She had anticipated that Anthony was ill or choking or a dozen other terrible things that could happen to babies.

Instead, he was being held by the most gorgeous, elegant woman Gillian had ever laid eyes on—and she knew immediately that this was Jess, her husband’s former mistress.

She was a brunette and shorter than Gillian by a head but her figure was absolute perfection. Every curve seemed to have been designed by God to show other women what they should look like. Her eyes were a deep, indigo blue and her lashes dark and full. Her skin was the color of cream and she smelled of June roses.

It was hard to believe this woman had ever been a milk maid. Gillian felt practically a drab cow patty in comparison. She wore her serviceable loden-green day dress, the one she threw on for seeing to household chores. And she hadn’t bothered to style her hair other than to twist it into a chignon at the nape of her neck.

Uncaring of any damage to her soft blue muslin gown trimmed in rows of expensive lace, Jess held Anthony for Gillian to see. “Isn’t he amazing?” she said. “So alive and alert.”

Anthony reached for the white feathers in Jess’s confection of a hat, trying to pull one out and stuff it into his mouth. She laughed, the sound light and airy and gratingly attractive. “No, no, no,” she whispered and Anthony laughed, as charmed by his mother as every other man would be who crossed Jess’s path.

No wonder Wright had been so enamored of her.

Jess’s smile revealed she wasn’t completely flawless. There was a gap between her two front teeth.

However, instead of marring her looks, it made her appear charmingly appealing.

“This is my son,” she said proudly to Gillian. “Isn’t he handsome?” Her voice was surprising. It was cultured and almost musical. She had worked very hard to create a voice like that.

“What are you doing here?” Gillian demanded. “How did you enter this house?”

Finely arched eyebrows rose in offense at her tone. “I had to see him,” Jess explained. “Brian won’t mind. Brian doesn’t deny me anything.”

If the woman had found a lance and stabbed it straight into Gillian’s heart, the pain could not be greater. Gillian placed a hand on the doorframe, willing herself to be strong. She was Wright’s wife…although she was alarmingly aware of her own imperfections. For that alone she could summon up enough anger for the woman to toss her into the street.

“I’m not Brian,” Gillian said, proud that her voice was strong. “And I don’t entertain women who toss their children aside. I consider them unfit to be referred to as mothers.”

A bright spot of color appeared on each of Jess’s cheeks. “I was warned you would be mean.”

“Who warned you?” Gillian demanded, annoyed at being referred to as mean.

Jess smiled, pressing her lips closed and refusing to answer.

Forget the expensive clothes, the beauty, and the elegance. What Gillian could have hated the woman for, what raised jealousy’s ugly head inside her, was that smile. Gillian didn’t want to believe Wright had let her in…but she wasn’t certain.

“Brian sleeps here, doesn’t he?” Jess said, nodding her head to Wright’s clothes hanging neatly on a peg. “He’s not in your bed.” She smiled again, pleased. “Of course he wouldn’t be. He didn’t want to marry you. He was displeased his father forced him.”

Any sympathy Gillian might have felt for the other woman’s circumstances in life evaporated. Jess was a she-devil. Her words were poisoned-tipped barbs and knew exactly where to go for best effect.

“And now he’s lost Hammond, too,” Jess said. “Such a pity. Did you come between them?”

“I did not,” Gillian denied, a bit too quickly.

Jess tilted her head in thought as if they were two good friends having a cozy chat. “Let me warn you, a man such as Brian can’t go long without a woman. It’s not in his nature. I’d be cautious if I were you.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Gillian answered. “Now leave.” She stepped aside to give Jess complete access to the door.

Her movement brought her to Anthony’s attention. He smiled and held out his hands to her.

Gillian walked right over and took him out of Jess’s arms. “And he isn’t your son,” she said. “He’s mine and Wright’s. He would have died without us.”

“But I am his rightful mother,” Jess answered. “He came from my womb and no matter how you try, you will never replace me. Good day, Lady Wright. I hope you enjoy the rest of the afternoon and the evening.”

She left, moving with a grace that would have been the envy of any duchess.

Gillian listened until she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. She was gone.

For a second, a terrible rage consumed Gillian. How dare the woman walk into her home and lay claim to Anthony? How dare she accuse Gillian of not seeing to Wright’s needs? Especially since she was the problem?

And then that rage broke into great, heaving sobs.

Anthony started crying with her.

Gillian sank on the edge of the cot Wright slept in every night. She hugged the baby back and forth, rocking him until they both calmed down.

“My lady?” an uncertain voice said from the doorway. It was Kate. Gillian wondered how long she’d been standing there.

Embarrassed to have been caught displaying such raw emotion, Gillian managed, “What is it?” as she pressed the back of her hand to her heated cheeks.

“I wanted to be certain all was as it should be,” Kate said, her hands fidgeting nervously with her apron.

“It is. Thank you,” Gillian said.

“Do you want me to take the baby?”

Gillian tightened her hold on Anthony, suddenly very possessive. He responded by laying his head on her shoulder—and her heart brimmed with love.

She’d cared for many babies, mostly her stepmother’s, but Anthony was hers. He might not come from her womb, but she was the one who had saved his life. She and Wright had done it together.

She didn’t want another woman to watch Anthony grow up.

She didn’t want another woman in Wright’s bed.

And she and Wright were going to secure a position for him on Liverpool’s staff. She had no doubt they wouldn’t do it. They were a formidable team when they chose to work together.

“My lady?” Kate repeated, a note of alarm in her voice. “Are you all right?”

Gillian forced herself to speak. “I am.” She frowned. Her mind seemed scattered in a million different directions. She had to have a moment to think, to decide what to do.

“It’s time for Anthony’s dinner, isn’t it?” she said to Kate, who watched her with concerned eyes.

“Here, take him downstairs and feed him, please.” She passed Anthony to the maid. She needed a moment alone so that she could think. “I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Anthony readily went with Kate. As they left the room with him on the maid’s shoulder, he gave Gillian another one of his happy smiles.

Gillian raised the back of her hand to her forehead. Tension and doubts were giving her a headache…and she knew what she had to do. A decision had to be made and there was only one direction she could honorably choose.

Downstairs, she sat at the writing desk in the sitting room and pulled ink and paper out. This was going to be the hardest letter she’d ever written.

She dipped pen in ink and started with:

Dear Andres,

I know I have been neglectful in writing you and I fear what I have to say will not be welcome news.

Gillian then confessed all. She told him that as deeply as she has cared for him, she is wed to Wright and cannot leave him. She chose not to admit her folly of loving her husband. Such a statement would only hurt the gallant Spaniard who had been so willing to champion her. Her tears dropped on the paper as she wrote.

You are such a wonderful, noble man and deserve a woman who is free to love you without the taint of scandal. Unfortunately, it cannot be me. You are far too good a man to be involved in all this. But please know, my dearest Andres, I will always hold you in my heart.

There. She’d done it. For better or worse, she’d made her commitment to her husband, and she prayed she wasn’t sorry. However, this was the best decision for Andres. He needed to find someone free to love him.