Margo Maguire (16 page)

Not now.

Chapter 16

C
hristina had not had occasion to feel motherly before. She’d had a sense of sisterly duty toward her brothers, especially with Lang, who’d so often found himself in disfavor.

But this was different. Theo had no one at all to care for him and Christina wanted to be sure he never again felt the stinging end of a whip or a man’s brutal fists. She wanted him to have a proper bed and a roof over his head when he went to sleep at night. And she wanted to see him with a little bit of meat on his bones.

The outrage she’d felt on witnessing his beating at the forge returned to her in force, and her heart swelled with more than a vague fondness for Gavin. He had not hesitated, not even for a second, flying to Theo’s rescue as though he were some sort of avenging angel.

She supposed that was how she’d thought of Gavin from the moment she’d met him—why she’d coerced him into helping her deal with the blackmailer. She’d taken a chance in trusting him, but it was quite clear she’d been right. Even if it turned out to be James Norris who removed the packet of money from the lectern—which it would not—she believed Gavin would handle the situation with skill and discretion.

“You can go and play for a little while before we leave, Theo,” she said.

His expression went blank at Christina’s suggestion, and she realized his uncle was unlikely to have given the boy any respite from his chores. Or his punishments. “Come on, then!” she said rising to her feet. “Let’s find something fun to do!”

They spent half an hour making themselves breathless playing a chasing game before resuming their southward trek. Even Jenny joined in while the men relaxed. And after their lunchtime romp, they returned to the carriage and taught some nursery songs to Theo.

It was near dusk when they came to a side road just past Ledger’s Mill. Hancock had been told to watch for it, and he turned into the lane as he’d been instructed. Christina believed they must have traveled fifty miles at least, for she and Jenny were both stiff from sitting in their cramped quarters, and dizzy from the jostling of the past few hours. Theo had been asleep with his head on Christina’s lap for the past hour.

“I dearly hope we’re almost there,” Jenny said.

“I’m sure we are,” Christina replied. “As I recall, my cousin’s house is not far from the northern road.”

A few minutes later, they heard Hancock shout to the horses and felt the carriage turn. Christina leaned toward the window and saw a familiar church and a mill as they passed by. She knew they were in the right place, on the road to St. Ledger’s Abbey.

The carriage pulled up to stop in the front drive of the ancient castle, which had generated the most romantic daydreams of Christina’s life, as had her dashing cousin, Avery. She was very glad for the opportunity to visit again.

Hancock quickly jumped down from the carriage as Trevor came around to lower the steps and open the door. Christina stepped out as several of her cousin’s footmen exited the castle and descended the wide granite stairs to approach her. She reached into her reticule and pulled out a card for one of the footmen to take to Avery, while Jenny collected a sleepy-eyed Theo and brought him out of the carriage.

“Take care of him, Jenny, and see that he’s fed and given a place to sleep. I’ll check on him later.”

Gavin dismounted beside the carriage and handed his reins to a young groom, while Hancock led the horses and carriage away. He came to stand beside Christina as her cousin came out, quickly descending the stairs with his hands extended, quite obviously pleased to see her.

“Christina!”

“Avery,” she said warmly, allowing herself to be taken into his embrace.

“This is a surprise! What brings you our way?”

“I have business in London, and . . .” She turned to Gavin. “Here is my escort, Captain Gavin Briggs. Captain Briggs, my cousin Avery, Earl of Matherley.”

Christina saw Gavin hesitate a moment before taking Avery’s outstretched hand. She cast him a sidelong glance, and when she saw that his complexion had turned chalky, could not help but wonder what was wrong.

T
he weight of regret and a fair measure of dread settled in Gavin’s stomach. He’d never intended to meet Amelia Winter again, and yet he knew the Earl of Matherley had become her husband. This was the man for whom Amelia had deserted him. He wished he’d realized Matherley was Christina’s cousin.

“My wife will be pleased to make your acquaintance,” the earl said.

“I’m very sorry I was unable to attend your wedding, Avery,” Christina said before Gavin had a chance to state that he already knew Amelia. He knew her very well.

“I understand, Christina. May I offer my sympathies on your loss? It is so very hard to believe Lang is gone.”

Gavin saw Christina bite her lip, a sign that could easily be interpreted as grief, though he knew it was worry that darkened her features. And with good reason.

His own emotions were far more difficult to interpret. Anger and dismay warred inside him, along with a strange sense of alarm. He had not felt this unsettled since facing his first battle in Spain, years ago.

He did not want to see the woman he’d once loved, in the presence of her husband. He did not want to see her at all.

“Let us not dwell upon unhappy thoughts,” Matherley said. “Come, you must meet my wife.”

“I believe your wife and I are acquainted,” Gavin interjected before they went any further.

“Oh?”

“Viscount Hargrove is my father,” he said. “His property and that of Lady Matherley’s family adjoined.”

“What a coincidence,” Matherley said, quirking his brow. “Then I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you again.”

Gavin doubted that, but as they continued through the entrance hall of the castle, he wondered if Amelia had told her husband about her first love. Matherley seemed to have recognized something about him at the mention of his acquaintance with Amelia.

Or perhaps it was his imagination.

Gavin took stock of her new home as they entered the large, richly furnished drawing room. Matherley sent a maid to fetch Amelia, and Gavin braced himself for their meeting. He had never expected this moment to occur, and he forced himself to ignore the jumble of emotions that roiled through him at the thought of seeing her again.

Christina and her cousin sat while Gavin remained standing near the window. He felt anxious and restless, feelings that were so utterly foreign to him, he did not know what to make of them.

“Ah, my dear. Here you are.”

Gavin turned and saw Amelia enter the room. Christina rose from her seat as Matherley went to his wife, taking her hand in his.

Gavin stood stock-still.

Amelia looked the same—her hair was as golden as ever, her eyes a soft brown with thick, dark lashes framing them. She was trim and graceful in a light blue gown with long sleeves. The neck scooped low, displaying her collarbones and a generous span of flawless skin. Skin whose touch he’d once coveted as much as life itself.

She was as gracious as he remembered, greeting Christina cordially and offering sympathies to her husband’s cousin over her recent losses. Her smile faltered only slightly when she turned to look at him.

“Captain Briggs,” she said as she slipped her hand through the crook of her husband’s elbow, a gesture of retreat—or fortification. “It has been a very long time since we last saw each other.”

Gavin gave a short bow. “Aye, Lady Matherley.”

“At least three years, is it not?”

With a slight tip of his head, he acknowledged that she was correct. Save for one quick visit before he’d taken Windermere’s commission, he had not been back to Seaholm Hall in at least three years, perhaps longer. Still, Amelia might have written to inform him of her change of heart. She might have told him she no longer wanted to marry him when he returned home, rather than letting him learn it from his brother, who’d enjoyed the joke rather too much.

Clifford was just as arrogant, but only half as intelligent as their father. He’d always mocked Gavin’s friendship with Amelia, saying that she would marry nothing less than an earl’s son. And that Gavin, as a younger son, could not hope to compete.

It chafed to admit Clifford had been right.

Amelia sat down beside her husband with Christina directly across. Gavin remained standing.

“I cannot tell you how shocked we were to hear of Lang’s . . .” Matherley cleared his throat and made a genteel change of subject. “How is your mother? Your father? They must be devastated.”

“Yes,” Christina responded as they all sat down. “It’s been very difficult.”

“I understand they’ve gone abroad with Felton and Colin.”

Christina nodded, her short, dark hair a sharp contrast to Amelia’s conventional coif. Even Christina’s beautiful eyes flouted custom, sparkling with interest and emotion, and holding nothing back.

There in Matherley’s drawing room, she was lively and expressive, nearly as spirited as when she made love. Gavin had learned that there was nothing less with Christina.

The conversation continued, though Gavin did not contribute. He was surprised to realize that whatever he once felt for Amelia had changed into something far more . . . benign. She was pleasant enough, but he felt no fiery need when he looked at her. No overwhelming desire to touch her, to taste her lips. The gentle swells of her breasts held no allure.

It was a disturbing revelation. The woman he’d spent so many hours dreaming of—Gavin realized it had been nothing more than a boyish infatuation with a girl who’d adored him. She was a mature woman now, not the young girl he’d left behind when he’d gone away to school, and then to war.

She was still comely enough, but she did not inspire any great urge to sweep her into his arms and carry her away.

Not the way Christina did.

That was a jarring thought, one he dismissed immediately. Amelia had taught him a valuable lesson about ladies of quality, one he would do well to heed. Gavin would never be more than a country farmer, while Christina was the widow of a viscount, the granddaughter of a duke. Society was hers for the taking, and take it she would, as soon as her period of mourning ended.

He needed to keep her at arm’s length.

The only women in Gavin’s future were his sister and her daughter, Rachel. When he collected his reward from Christina’s grandfather and bought his manor house in Hampshire, they would no longer be a burden to their cousin in London. And now that he was responsible for Theo, Gavin would take the boy with them to Weybrook Manor where they all would be able to live respectably, and with ease.

Amelia and her husband engaged Christina in light conversation, carefully avoiding speaking of Lang or Viscount Fairhaven, topics that surely would be distressing to her. They spoke of the engagement of the eldest Jameson brother, and asked about his fiancée before turning to Gavin.

“How is your family, Captain Briggs?” Amelia asked.

“My father and brother are the same as always,” he replied. “My sister, Eleanor, now lives in London with a cousin.”

Amelia’s brows dipped. “In London? I had not heard.”

Gavin nodded. “She has been there more than a year.”

“Well, perhaps I’ll see her when we go down to Town.”

“Perhaps,” he said noncommittally. Of course they would not meet. Eleanor and Amelia traveled in vastly different circles these days.

Gavin was surprised to discover he did not dislike the man Amelia had wed. Matherley was genuinely affable and considerate—a far cry from the behavior Gavin had witnessed in his own father’s drawing room. Viscount Hargrove was an arrogant bastard who never cared a whit about anyone but himself and his heir, the favored son, who’d been spoiled and coddled for as long as Gavin could remember.

Matherley seemed entirely different. He was attentive to his wife and Christina, and more than civil to Gavin, in spite of any inkling he might entertain of Amelia’s past relationship with him.

“Well, you must plan on staying with us as long as you like, Christina . . . Captain Briggs,” Matherley said. “Are you in a hurry to get to London?”

“Er . . . Yes, I have business there in a few days,” Christina replied. “But thank you, Avery. Your hospitality tonight is most appreciated.”

Amelia picked up a small bell and summoned a footman to the room. “Peter, please go and light the fires in the guest rooms for Captain Briggs and Lady Fairhaven. We’ll follow.”

C
hristina walked ahead with her cousin, while Gavin followed alongside Lady Matherley. “I hope you know you can ask anything of us, Christina,” Avery said. “If there is anything you need . . .”

Christina shook her head slightly, far more interested in the hushed, highly personal conversation taking place behind her. Luckily, Avery kept up his friendly chatter while Christina managed to listen in on what Amelia and Gavin had to say to each other.

“You look thinner than I remember, Gavin,” Amelia said.

“I’m sure it’s just a trick of your memory, Lady Matherley.”

Christina thought that must be so, for he looked perfect to her, and she’d seen the striking fullness of his body without a shirt, without trews . . . something she doubted Lady Matherley had.

She thought again. Perhaps she was mistaken, and Captain Briggs had had more than just a passing association with her cousin’s wife. It was foolishly distressing to realize it must be so, else Lady Matherley would not speak of something so personal.

Gavin was a skilled lover, and he could not have come by his talents in the bedchamber without a good bit of experience. Why not with Amelia—with the young woman who’d known him in years past. Perhaps he’d been Amelia’s first—

“Are you glad to be out of the army?” Amelia asked.

There was a pause. “Life in England is not what I’d thought it would be, but then . . . one never knows what changes will come.”

Lady Matherley did not reply to Gavin’s statement, and Christina tried to pay attention to Avery’s remarks about the last time he’d seen Christina’s parents, several months before, at a ball in London. But she only half listened, and answered vaguely, far more preoccupied with the undertones behind her, and the riot of emotions Gavin’s familiarity with Amelia raised in her.