A Cantata of Love (The Code Breakers 4) (3 page)

Lord Kendal reached across and took her hand. “My sister, Henrietta, is going to love you. And until we can contact your brother, you’ll stay with us.”

“You often called your sister’s name when you were delirious with the fever.”

His hand tightened around her fingers. “Did I say anything else?”

She was surprised he didn’t ask her about the code book. He never spoke about why he’d been fleeing Fouché or how he’d been wounded. Living in revolutionary France these past years, she had learned not to ask questions when the answers could come back to harm you.

She stared into his shining eyes. His cherubic face, filled with youthful openness, was not one of a deceptive agent on a secret mission.

“You called me your ma’am,” she teased.

“I thought you were my mother when you sang the French lullabies. She had a wonderful voice, but nothing in comparison to your sweet soprano.”

“I didn’t know your mother was French.”

“My father would say he fell under her Gallic charm and never recovered. Theirs was a love match—unheard of. And my grandfather, the earl, was not pleased.”

“How wonderful to be able to marry for love.”

“You don’t think your brother will allow you to marry whomever you want?”

She didn’t’ know. The Terror had changed her brother. The violence had changed all of France. The idea of marrying for love and a future wasn’t anything she had given herself time to ponder. She had spent her time surviving and waiting to escape France. But she wouldn’t feel safe until she was with her brother.

“I don’t know. Not anything I need to think about now.” She nodded her head toward the maid who snored loudly, her head against the side of the carriage. “Tell me more about your French mother.”

Apparently displeased by her diversion away from the topic of marriage, Lord Kendal’s dimples disappeared with his glaring frown. “My mother made everyone laugh. My father would always say that I was too much like my mother when I played tricks, but I knew it was an admirable trait to be like my mother. What was your mother like?” he asked.

“My mother was married very young to my father, the marquis. He wasn’t a very affectionate or approachable man, and I’ve always wondered what my mother’s life was like. I always believed Lucien and I brought joy to her loveless marriage. She protected Lucien and me from the misery of her marriage. We never were exposed to my father’s temper.”

Lord Kendal’s bright eyes faded as he searched her face. She didn’t want his pity, but she wanted him to understand that she wasn’t naïve after witnessing her mother’s suffering. She knew what her life would be if she were forced to marry Jerome Bonaparte.

“Do you have any other family?”

“Yes, I have a younger brother, Edward, who is a cricket fiend. Do you play?”

“Cricket?” She couldn’t imagine a French woman playing cricket. “No, only piano.”

“He’ll be very disappointed. And he won’t be impressed by your skills as a pianist. Why do I have a feeling you’re very accomplished?”

She shrugged her shoulders. How to explain that music kept her sane during the long, lonely years? “Music helped me during the dark times in my country. Do you play?”

“I play a little, but my interest has always been more on the mathematical side of music.”

“Mathematical?” Gabby’s voice edged close to shrill.

“I didn’t mean to offend your artist’s soul. But you must understand, I’m a linguist. I study patterns.” He leaned across the aisle, his lips curving upward into a knowing smirk. “But I always appreciate passion.”

Gabby didn’t return his grin. “How old is your brother?”

He sat back against the squabs. “He’s eleven.” She heard the rueful amusement in his voice. “Then there’s my Uncle Charles. He is a bit unusual.” He paused, as if calculating how much to divulge. “He is a brilliant scholar, quotes ancient Greek, but doesn’t remember what day it is.”

“And he also lives with you?”

“Yes, he never married. We’re a jolly household. You’ll find it’s a perfect refuge to recover from our long journey.”

Gabby leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine a jolly household—what a foreign concept. After the Revolution, the idea of happiness was fleeting. She’d like to make her household with her brother jolly, as her mother would’ve wished.

Lord Kendal sat up and peeked out the window once again. “We are getting close. It will be great to be home and eat Mrs. Brompton’s biscuits.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. His rascally grin softened the lines of fatigue framing his eyes.

He was a most remarkable man. He seemed to enjoy every moment of life—something she had lost.

* * *

They arrived at a classic symmetrical house with massive white columns flanking the entry. The sun shone on the house, dappling the red brick and the long windows. Lord Kendal’s face was also illuminated, beaming with simple pleasure. And Gabby couldn’t help smiling back, despite her fluttering nervousness.

By the way he easily jumped out of the carriage, Lord Kendal certainly didn’t look like a man who had been hovering at death’s door. She took satisfaction that he was better and that she had helped him. There was now no debt between them.

He linked his fingers with hers in his excitement. His gesture was surprising and his warmth reassuring as she prepared to face the English strangers.

The door opened before they reached the top step. A youthful, muscular butler smiled. “Welcome home, my lord.”

Lord Kendal stopped suddenly. “Who in blazes are you? Where’s Brompton? And how do you know to welcome me home?”

“Sir, Brompton now resides at Rathbourne House. The likeness between you and Master Edward is remarkable.”

Lord Kendal pulled Gabby along and rushed into the house. “Hen, I’m home.”

His voice echoed in the large marble foyer with high ceilings. “Hen, I’m home.”

“Sir, Lady Rathbourne doesn’t reside at Kendal house.” The butler spoke hesitantly.

Lord Kendal dropped Gabby’s hand to open the door of the first room off the entryway. “I don’t even know a Lady Rathbourne so why would I care where she resides. Hen?”

“My deepest apologies, sir. I thought you were aware of your sister’s marriage. Your sister is now Lady Rathbourne.”

Lord Kendal jerked around. “My sister is married? When? And why wasn’t I informed?”

The butler appeared flummoxed by the question. “Sir, I—”

Lord Kendal ran his hand through his thick locks. “Did you say Rathbourne? My sister married Lord Cordelier Rathbourne?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“How can that be? I haven’t been gone long enough.”

The butler stood frozen. “Yes, my lord.”

Gabby interrupted. “I assume you are the new butler?”

“Yes, my lady. I was an under-butler for Lord Rathbourne until Lady Rathbourne moved her household. Brompton chose me as your butler, sir. He felt I would be appropriate for a single man’s residence.”

“Her household? I don’t understand. It’s my household. And what of my uncle? He needs the Bromptons. And I need the Bromptons.”

The servant grew more uncomfortable imparting information about Lord Kendal’s family. “Your uncle and Master Edward now reside at Rathbourne House, as do the Bromptons.”

Lord Kendal’s hurt was etched on his guileless face. The poor man was in shock.

Gabby understood his pain and disappointment. She knew what it was like to have your safe world disappear in a moment without warning.

The discomfort on the young servant’s face was almost as painful as that reflected in Lord Kendal’s aggrieved expression.

“What is your name?” Gabby asked.

“Averill, my lady.”

“Averill, Lord Kendal and I need luncheon, and Lord Kendal is in need of a strong libation. Can you lead us to the drawing room?”

She took Lord Kendal’s arm and led him down the hall.

Averill walked ahead to show her the way. He opened the door. “Sir, which room would you like my lady to occupy?”

“What?”

“Sir, which room for my lady?”

Gabby felt Lord Kendal’s arm tighten. “You cannot stay here in the residence of a single man. It isn’t done. I must take you right now to my sister.”

Gabby stopped in the middle of the hallway. “I refuse to get into that carriage until I’ve had sustenance and time to refresh myself. You’ll have to hold on to your principles a little longer.”

Chapter Five

The long hours on the bumpy roads had done nothing to improve the pain in his arse or his disposition. Michael shifted his position on the carriage seat on their ride to Rathbourne House. How could Hen marry during his brief months away? He felt lost that his sister had married someone he knew only as the Head of Intelligence.

He and Hen shared more than the bond of brother and sister. They both were linguists who had evolved by wartime needs into code breakers. They had developed an unusually close relationship by working together deciphering codes. He had great respect for his sister, watching her expand and grow confident in her abilities.

When they finally arrived at Rathbourne House, Michael rose to assist Gabby out of the carriage.

The young country woman he had hired to be Gabby’s maid stood behind them with her mouth gaping at the size and grandeur of the towering, turreted Jacobean grey mansion.

Gabby squeezed his arm while they climbed the steps. “Remember, you must wait and talk to your sister before you say or do anything against your new brother-in-law. He is now part of the family, and you wouldn’t want your sister to be torn between her love for you and her new husband.”

Gentle Gabby was a bossy little package. A lot like Hen, she was soothing his hurt feelings, trying to get him to behave in a gentlemanly manner. She’d be outraged to know he was enjoying her next to him, her soft curves pressed against him.

“You really need to wait until you talk to your sister.”

Michael quickened his pace up the last few steps. “But why would Hen marry in haste? He must have taken undue advantage. I may have to challenge him to a duel to defend our family honor.” Nothing else made sense of whatever had prompted Hen to marry in such a rush. The old geezer must have seduced or compromised Henrietta.

Exasperated, Gabby pulled on his arm, stopping him from knocking on the door. “Tell me how killing your brother-in-law would help your sister?”

“To relieve her of a man…” He stopped, thinking better of what he might say to this innocent. Men with no morals could seduce a young woman and force her into marriage. It made no sense that sensible Henrietta would fall for such a ruse. “Rathbourne must have been in need of Henrietta’s money. It is the only reasonable explanation.”

Gabby shook her head, her delightful curls restrained under her bonnet, bouncing with the rapid movement while she said something under her breath in French.

They both startled when the door opened, revealing Brompton. “Master Michael, home at last! Lady Henrietta will be relieved, as will Master Edward, Uncle Charles, and my wife. They have all been worried about you.”

Deep happiness swept through Michael with the family retainer’s handshake. “Brompton, you’re a sight for sore eyes. I’m pleased to see you in good health. And how is Mrs. Brompton?”

“My wife is as nimble and interfering as ever.” Brompton spoke in a loud voice, enabling Bromie, moving briskly down the hallway, to hear his teasing comment.

The sight of the cheerful woman, in her familiar brown dress, her hair severely pulled back at her neck, who had acted as a mother to all of the Harcourts was a reassuring note in the disconcerting homecoming.

“Master Michael?” Bromie’s voice was incredulous and welcoming.

All was going to be right.

“My boy, how wonderful it is to see you.” The stout woman swept him into her arms, not standing on formality like her husband. She smelled of cinnamon and lemon and everything constant from his childhood.

Bromie released him and nodded at Gabby.

“Bromie and Brompton, this is Mademoiselle Gabrielle De Valmont, who will be staying with my sister until she can move to her brother’s home.”

Brompton bowed his head. “My lady, welcome to Rathbourne House.”

Bromie raised her eyebrows at Michael before she smiled at Gabby. “Welcome, mademoiselle. I’d better rouse Lady Henrietta from her nap. She’ll be upset that she wasn’t here to greet you.”

“Hen is sleeping in the middle of the day?”

Bromie patted him on the cheek, her calloused hand rough against his skin. “Your sister is right as rain. You’ll see soon enough. But you look like you’ve lost weight. You’ve missed Cook’s good old English cooking?”

Michael squeezed Bromie’s hand. “I have missed everyone and everything.”

Bromie grabbed at her heart. “Lady Hen is going to be pleased to see you, and Edward is going to be over the top by your arrival. I’ve got to tell Cook to get started on your homecoming dinner. This is a very special day.”

“I will announce your arrival to Lord Rathbourne, Master Michael,” Brompton said. “Mademoiselle, may I show you to the drawing room where you can wait to meet Lady Henrietta?”