His to Keep (Regency Scoundrels Book 2) (20 page)

“If we must blame anyone—you can blame me,” Louis-Daniel said. “Still, I want to see St. Martin pay. I need to put my hate somewhere, or I just might destroy myself.”

“You must let it go, Louis-Daniel. Do it for me,” Margaret urged.

Louis-Daniel gave their mother a rare smile. “I shall try. I…I am famished. I am going to go and seek out some food. Before I had to fetch Isla and the drunk doc, I was having a rather diverting bit of fun, and I worked up quite the appetite.”

“Exerting, was it?” His mother raised her eyebrow and pinned her eyes on him. “Pray, do one other thing for me, Louis-Daniel.”

“Anything, Mama.” Louis-Daniel swept into a low bow. 

“Try to stop your rakish ways. You act like a scoundrel, and I do want to see…to see…”

“To see any of my by-blows show up at the castle?”

Archie sighed heavily, and his mother looked pained. “You must find a wife and settle down the way that Archie has done.”

“I do not want a wife like Lady Northam. I want a wife with passion—I want a wife who is willing to share my bed whenever I want her to—and moreover, I want her to want to share my bed. I don’t know if I shall find anyone with that sort of passionate nature in England…or Scotland for that matter.”

“Well, we…you…” Margaret’s face went a bright red. “Run along and go down to the kitchens, and Louis-Daniel…”

“Yes, Mama?”

“Keep your hands to yourself while you are down there,” she said reprovingly. “The maids here…they all like you a little too much. You have their confidence. They tell you everything and don’t think I don’t know they do, you mustn’t mess about with them, is that clear?”

“Yes, Mama,” he said.

Archie snickered, and looked away from his brother’s glare. With a rattling sigh, his mother stood up. “I shall walk with you as far as the Library, Louis-Daniel. I want to look in on your father and Charles. I think…I think after that I should like to retire to my bed. Isla, will you stay with Archie and Gemma?”

“Aye,” Isla said, taking up her knitting, as she started her bedside vigil.

“Thank you,” Margaret said. “Do not exhaust yourself, Archie. We do not need you falling ill as well.” With those parting words, his mother left with Louis-Daniel, and Archie fixed his gaze on Gemma’s pale face, and willed her to live.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Mallory?” Elizabeth asked softly. 

“I’m setting off for France in the morning now that Susan is on the mend.”

“I think you should stay here with us, my love,” Elizabeth said softly.

“I cannot. I must find Gemma.”

“Mallory, she is with her husband. You can’t consider what Archie did as stealing Gemma away. You stole me away, and look where that got us.”

“Archie Campbell isn’t me.” He started pacing back and forth with his arms crossed behind him. 

“I know that, dearest. But, he seems like a perfectly nice man, and he wasn’t the one that hurt any of us.”

“His men shot Ainsworth, and one of the blackguards stabbed me. Lord Northam is not an innocent party in this debacle!”

“Ainsworth is alive and well on the mend. You must let her find her own way, Mallory.”

“Gemma is having her own adventure. Let her have it. You have had many adventures, and your sisters, well, they’ve been cloistered away. Gemma deserves to have a bit of fun.”

“Bit of fun? You think being married to Archie is that diverting?”

“He’s a handsome lord with heavy coffers, and he adores Gemma. I do not think she is in any peril. Pray, let her be.”

“And you forgive him for printing those stories about how I am Captain Rafe Morgan in the papers?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “It made for some pretty salacious gossip but nothing else will come from it. Gemma went with him willingly.”

“She went with him to save you and our daughter.”

“We would have found a way. She could have stayed and fought, she didn’t. She wanted to embark on an adventure with her husband, and I shall not have you ruin it all for her.”

“You have gone mad, my sweet demented darling,” he said.

She laughed. “As long as you still love me, that’s all that matters.”

His mother walked into the morning room. Sighing, she sat down and poured herself some tea. “I have had time to think about what is to be done concerning Gemma. We know who they are, she married into the Campbell family, and though I know they are vast in number, I think I know which branch she married into, and I should like to open communications with them. For that reason, I will be sending Lord Northam’s mother a missive later on today, and hopefully, wherever they are, in England, Scotland or on that isle they escape to, the mail shall find them.”

“They have an island?” Mallory sat up straighter.

“Yes, I thought you knew. Their family is quite well known throughout the ton, Mallory. We are the ones that have shied away from social events in the last decade. They have done no such thing. The Duchess helped to marry off two of her nieces, and she presented them at Court. She also has two daughters that will make their Come Out soon. I hear they are quite shy, but they shall have to gather their nerve to navigate the world of the marriage mart. They also say that her two daughters shall be lovely little debutantes, as they share her beauty.”

“You know that much about them?” Mallory asked, aghast.

“Oh, yes, indeed.”

“And…you never thought to impart that information to me?”

“You never asked, Son. Besides, you had your heart set on revenge, and it clouded your mind. Gemma is now a married woman, and she has married into a family that shall be quite the asset to us. I didn’t want you to bungle things up.”

“There you, see?” Elizabeth said, smiling widely. “Your own mother views the match favorably. You will not go off and try to make Gemma a widow.”

“Indeed, you shall not. Ainsworth has been well compensated for his injury, and he well on the mend. You must set aside your anger, Mallory, dear, and embrace the fact that we are now one big happy family.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call us happy,” Mallory grumbled. He still wanted to break Archie’s nose, and if he couldn’t settle for breaking Archie’s nose, he’d bludgeon that bloody Frog instead.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Gemma woke with a scream.

Bathed in sweat, she looked wildly about her.

“What…what’s going on?” Archie asked sleepily, sitting up in bed next to her.

She leveled her gaze on him.

“What are you doing in my bed?” she asked angrily.

“I’m not in your bed…I’m in
our
bed,” he said.

She didn’t feel like arguing with him. “What…what happened to me?”

His eyes feasted on her, and she felt a bit embarrassed. “You fell ill with a fever and I thought I feared that I would lose you.” His voice filled with emotion, and the sound of it made her toes curl.

“I’m hungry,” she said slowly. “I think, I think I would like some tea, and some toast and some plumb cake, and some hot rolls, and pound cake and maybe some bacon and an egg or two…”

“Why don’t I just have Cook load a tray with some food?” he asked, laughing.

“That sounds heavenly, oh, maybe I want some hot chocolate instead of tea. I am so conflicted.”

“I’ll have her prepare both,” he said softly. “I might see if she has made any kedgeree. I could do with some of that.”

“You can keep it,” she said tartly, making him laugh again. 

Reaching for his dressing gown, he gave her a smile that warmed her body, and then, he left the room. Sighing, she looked around her. The room was ornately decorated in soothing shade of blue. Yawning, she laid back down to wait for him to return and before she knew it, she had nodded off again.

*****

Archie walked carefully into the bedchamber carrying the tray heaped with food. He stopped short, and took a moment to admire Gemma. She was such a beauty. He placed the tray down on a nearby table, and crept toward the bed, hoping he wouldn’t make any noise to disturb her. When the floor creaked, he winced. Her eyes snapped open. “Oh, it’s only you,” she muttered. Her eyes were a bit listless, and then, as if she had remembered that he was bringing food, she sat up in bed and looked wildly about. “Where is the food?”

Yes. That was the woman he loved, the woman who ate like a pig, but never seemed to look like one. He wondered what his two sisters would think of her, seeing as they both ate like birds to maintain their figures. If they weren’t both in London right now with their cousins, he would be able to ask them.

“Were you…were you by my side the whole time?” she asked softly as he brought the tray over to the bed.

“Aye,” he said, suddenly feeling shy about the whole thing.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I…I felt as if I wasn’t alone, I felt as if someone was keeping me tied to this world.”

He smiled, at her, earning a smile in return. “Why don’t we tuck into this food, and if you feel like it later I can show you around the castle? Charles has also wanted to see you. My father has been spending a lot of time with him. Charles has bewitched him.”

“Charles is an imp, and he’s such a sweet little character and that endears him to so many people. I…I would like exploring the castle with you. It sounds like a day filled with fun.”

He grinned back at her. There life was almost perfect. If only St. Martin would disappear from their lives.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Gemma and Archie were walking through the house, making their way to the main stairwell.

They’d stayed far too long in the Library, talking and well, flirting was the only word she could give it. She wanted him to kiss her, she’d kept praying for it, but he had remained aloof, even though his eyes told her that he wanted her—desperately. The sound of something shattering in the Entrance Hall caught both of their attention. 

“Stay here,” Archie instructed.

Leaving her side, she heard him dashing through the house. 

Fear coiled around her heart, when she only heard silence.

“Deuce it all. No one is going to leave me behind.” She moved forward, tracking Archie’s path.

Urgent whispers met her ears.

“I have to have some more money, Archie. That twenty thousand pounds you promised me is a pittance compared to what I need. Come on. You know that compared to you, I’m a pauper. I might inherit my own grand English estate someday, but until that old uncle of my natural mother’s passes away, I have no money to speak of, and Papa has cut off my allowance. Have a heart, mate.” Laughter erupted from the man talking. The voice sounded suspiciously like Louis-Daniel, and yet the man speaking, he sounded British!

It…was most disconcerting to hear, and yet it intrigued her enough to keep her walking toward the men instead of running away from them as she probably should.  

“You should have thought about that before you started rutting that whore again! God damn it, Louis-Daniel, you really need to learn to keep that prick of yours buttoned up!”

She heard Louis-Daniel let out a large grunt. “Well, at least I have a little strumpet warming my bed. I can safely boast that I am a beard splitter. You aren’t even getting close to bedding your wife. She’s frigid to the core, isn’t she?”

“Shut your bloody bone box, Louis-Daniel. She’s just had a fever. She’s still recuperating. So, just keep those loose lips of yours shut.” Archie growled. 

“Can’t, I’m foxed. I feel as if I’m flying in the wind much like a kite, so…will you give me some money, or not?”

“You were given a bloody peerage, shame it didn’t come with any land so you could make a bit of blunt off it.”

“Aye,” Louis-Daniel said. “Given a peerage by the Crown, I’m a proper English lord, and yet everyone still calls me monsieur or that bloody marquis. I want to forget the fact that I’m French. It’s brought me too much heartache.”

“You should have thought about that before you put on that bloody performance for Gemma and the rest of her family. They think you’re all frog.”

“Pah, I was once proud of that life, but my experiences during the war soured me on that. I want to be British, I want, I want to marry a British lass, and have British babies, even if the British lass is a bit cold. I want people to call me the Earl of Lustleigh instead of calling me that Marquis bastard.”

“That’s a very good title for you,” she could hear Archie laughing.

“It is,” Louis-Daniel said. “And…And I think that I should like to drop the Louis in my name and go with just Daniel.”

“Well, you’d better start acting like a British prick instead of a French prick,” Archie muttered.

“I shall,” she heard Louis-Daniel burp loudly and then, Archie groan. Had he fallen over and Archie had to catch him?

“What’s come over you, Louis-Daniel? You’re not just drunk…you’ve…you’ve been into the opium!”

“Bloody right I have, and I’m high on life.”

“We cannot let Mama or Papa see you like this, they will be livid with you, and you can kiss ever seeing another pound from Papa.”

“If only my natural mama’s uncle would kick the bucket. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. His estate isn’t entailed, and I’m his only living heir…so it can come to me...and his lands are vast stretching over several counties. I could live like a king.”

“Just remember how your king went out,” Archie said dryly.

“He was never my king…that’s why the British Crown gave me my earldom, of course. They knew where my true loyalties lied.”

“Come on, old chap, let’s get you to your bedchamber. Stop being such a dead weight, Louis-Daniel. You are like a bloody anchor pulling me down.”

“You’re big enough to take my weight, don’t be such a little twiddle poop,” he scoffed, his words slightly slurred. 

“If I’m a twiddle poop, then, you’re a coxcomb, and you piss more than you drink.”

“I do not boast without reason, and I doubt I piss more than I drink, although, now that I think on it, I do need to take a piss, I also feel a little…a little out of sorts.”

“Don’t you dare cast up your accounts. I shan’t have that all over me, and when you flash the hash, you get sick everywhere.”

“I won’t,” Louis-Daniel muttered. “I need to fly a kite, mate. I need to fly a kite—I’m sick of being a penniless earl.”

“Why don’t you go and woo yourself an heiress?”

“I could do that to raise some gingerbread. I’m rather sick of being a cucumberish fellow. I don’t know about your wife though, I sort of feel sorry for you that you have to Dance the Goat’s Jig with that. I can tell you I wouldn’t want to tup that…no, sir, I wouldn’t want to whap that. And if you Ride the Dragon, she won’t have much jiggling in your face, will she? Or…wait, when the woman’s on top they also call it the Dragon Upon St. George…so you can both be the dragon, can’t you? She’s rather lacking in the apple dumpling shop, ain’t she? Her pillows are barely there. Where shall you lay your head when it’s all over?”

Indignation stirred within Gemma, as her face burned. She wanted to thrash Louis-Daniel soundly. “Oh, yes, brother, dear, I left a lady who isn’t really a lady waiting for her payment outside…so if you’d be a good chap and go and take care of that…”

“I will, once I see you safely to your bedroom.”

“And I think I might have insulted a trollop’s husband…or was he her lover? Can’t recall, anyway, I think I might have thrown down the gauntlet with him.”

“You’re in no state to be fighting duels, and how do you find such trouble in such a place? Who, who did you enrage this time?”

“I don’t remember,” he said. “You’re such a good little brother.”

“I’m bigger than you, Louis-Daniel.”

“Aye, but you’re younger than me. I wish I had been born as the heir, without my bit of French blood to muddy the waters.”

“Now that’s just utter rot,” Archie scoffed.

“I’m rattling on about nothing, I guess,” Louis-Daniel sighed. Shuffling footsteps moved toward Archie and Louis-Daniel’s location. She hoped she was hidden away so no one would see the glow of her candles, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Your Lordships, can I be of assistance?” The sleepy butler’s voice echoed through the entryway.

“Nothing is amiss, Pettigrew. You can go back to bed.”

Pettigrew yawned. “Thank you, sir. Are you certain you don’t require a few of the footmen to help you out? I could get Lord Lustleigh’s valet up…”

“No, no. That isn’t necessary. I can manage on my own, thank you, Pettigrew. Now off to bed with you,” Archie said.

“Yes, my lord,” she could imagine the butler bowing and soon, she heard him shuffling away. He sounded older than Ainsworth.

Lord Lustleigh. Where had she heard that name before? Someone used to use that name saying that he was their nephew…

Finally, the title jiggled her memory. She knew his uncle! Lawks, her family knew Louis-Daniel’s uncle. There wasn’t a kinder more generous soul in the world. He had given them gifts during the lean years that had dogged them after Geoffrey Woodward had taken their family fortune. She remembered him boasting about his nephew, the newly created Earl of Lustleigh…the celebrated war hero…the man had served with such distinction that he had earned himself a peerage. Now, she felt sick to her stomach. She might just flash her hash, Archie wouldn’t have to worry about Louis-Daniel doing it.

“Archie, could you move a little faster in hoisting my arse up the stairs? I’m getting quite dizzy, and I’m awfully tired.”

She was so angry her one eye was twitching. She wanted to go out and confront them, but something told her to remain hidden, and yet, how would Archie get his brother up that immense staircase alone? If they should fall…no, she wouldn’t allow her husband to break her neck for that devilish scoundrel.

Dashing forward, she emerged where Archie could see her. His eyes settled on her briefly, he looked as if he was going to fight her, and then caught himself, and stopped, his expression changed, and gave her a wink. 

Archie had Louis-Daniel supported, and he was dragging his limp form toward the stairs. Fixing her gaze on Louis-Daniel, she noticed that he’d already passed out.

“It won’t take long to get him settled for the remainder of the night.”

“How often do you do this sort of thing?” she asked softly, careful not to raise her voice too high lest she awaken Louis-Daniel.

“Usually, whenever Louis-Daniel is in residence here on the island. He’s notorious for this. Mama and Papa will be terribly upset if they see him like this, so I try to hide it from them. Fortunately, my parents either do not hear us, or they pretend they haven’t heard us.” 

“You lied to me,” she muttered, eyeing him warily out of the corner of her eyes.

“What did I lie to you about this time?” he asked good-naturedly.

“You led me to believe that your brother was all French.”

“Oh, he’s more French than me,” Archie laughed. “His father, the man who claimed him as his son was French, of course, he didn’t get any blood from him, but Louis-Daniel’s mother had a French mother and an English father. I’m not certain how she came to marry a Frenchman, as she grew up in England, and I’ve never asked Louis-Daniel. I don’t even know if he knows, although I suppose it wasn’t unheard of.” 

“So, he played the part of Frenchie for us,” she said, her lip curling.

“He did that because he believes he sounds more menacing as a Frenchman. He doesn’t think that his voice sounds threatening enough with his English accent. He says, he says that people tell him he sounds like a different person when he is speaking French or English with a French accent.”

“He did, he did sound menacing back at the Abbey,” she shuddered. “His voice, his voice becomes so much kinder when he’s using the English accent.”

“He’s a child of both worlds,” Archie murmured. “But he’s been with our family since the National Razor took his parents. Fortunately, he was visiting his uncle in England when the Reign of Terror took hold, and his parents perished. After that his uncle wanted to keep him and raise him, but my father and mother claimed him instead. I think…I often wonder if maybe…if maybe he would have been happier with his uncle. His uncle was childless, and I know he would have lavished him with love, and…”

“Other things?” she asked, smiling. “Yes, I think he might have. Lord Hawick is a wonderful man.”

“You know him?”

“Indeed. Your brother was quite lucky not to have found his uncle at Welford Abbey when the two of you attacked us. Wouldn’t that have surprised Louis-Daniel, eh?”

“So…he’s a family friend,” Archie muttered. “Blast and damn. We really cocked this whole thing up, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit,” she said, sighing. “If Louis-Daniel inherits his uncle’s properties, he will see quite a lot of the St. Martins.”

“That might not be to his liking,” he chuckled.

She bit her lower lip, and glanced at Archie quickly. He seemed so different now. A burden had been lifted off his shoulders, and she liked the new Archie. She prayed he wouldn’t go back to the darkly brooding man that he had once been.

They were sharing a moment, and that moment was shattered with Louis-Daniel’s first loud snore and then, he let out a loud fart.

“Oh, he’s a real charmer,” she said.

“He is, isn’t he?”

“How can he fall into such a deep sleep so quickly?”

“It’s a talent of his. He can nod off wherever or whenever, no matter what sort of conditions he’s under.” 

“Oh, my, the portraits here are exquisite. I must come and explore these halls better tomorrow.”

“I shall join you. Right now, let’s just get this heavy sod into his bed. He feels like he’s got rocks in his arse.”

She walked quickly in front of him so she could open Louis-Daniel’s door for him.

“It’s locked,” she gasped.

“I’ve got to get him in and then I have to go and pay that little tart he’s left waiting in her carriage. Just give me a minute.” Placing Louis-Daniel so that he was slumped against the wall, Archie started searching the man’s pockets. He pulled out an ornately decorated snuffbox, that played a tune when he opened it, a purse, a watch, a small box of licorice, and then finally, keys. “I swear he carries everything he can possibly stuff into his pockets. Stand aside, Gemma.” Quickly, he unlatched the door and pushed it open.

“Come on you little bastard, let’s get you all snug and warm in your bed.”

He grunted, heaving Louis-Daniel up again. “I always say this, but I’m done with carting your arse around, brother mine.” He walked over to the four-poster bed and dumped him on the bed. Louis-Daniel’s head knocked against the one poster. “Sorry about that, Louis-Daniel. If you’re head hurts in the morning, it’s all your fault.”