Margo Maguire (18 page)

There was time enough to figure that out. The boy would need to spend a few weeks with Eleanor in their cousin Hettie Mills’s house—at least until he transported Christina to her grandfather at Windermere Park. Once that was done, he could move on.

Move on without her.

He took a swallow of wine and pretended to listen to Amelia, who was talking about a trip she and Matherley had taken some months before. Clearly, she had grown tired of waiting for him. And when Matherley had come along, she had not been able to resist him and all he had to offer.

Gavin was glad she’d married the earl, even though it proved Clifford right. Being a countess suited Amelia well. She was gracious, if slightly insipid, and he knew now that he was not the best prospect as a husband.

He didn’t really know if he could be a farmer, either. He was unused to settling in one place for very long, though he’d dreamed of doing just that during his long missions abroad. He’d wanted to fall asleep and awaken in the same bed every night and morning. To shave over the same washbasin every day. To eat his meals at the same table.

“My housekeeper tells me you brought a young boy with you, Captain Briggs.”

He nodded. “A child who lived with his drunken uncle.”

“And you rescued him, I presume?”

“Yes,” Christina interjected. “He did. The uncle was beating the poor boy with a whip.”

Amelia laid her hand on Gavin’s arm and he resisted the urge to pull away. “You are still rescuing the helpless and oppressed, Captain Briggs?”

Gavin heard a tinge of patronization in her voice, something he’d never recognized before. Something he found quite disagreeable.

“I believe anyone with an ounce of sense would have intervened in Theo’s situation, Lady Matherley,” Christina said. “It was merely human kindness.”

Gavin remembered Amelia’s youthful laugh, and the way it never failed to sparkle through him. Now he heard something entirely different. There was an aspect to her demeanor he did not quite understand. Or like.

He didn’t know if he was the one who had changed, or if it was she, but whatever had once sparked between them was gone. It was thoroughly dead.

“What will you do with the boy, Captain Briggs?” Lord Matherley asked.

He found he was uninterested in sharing any personal information with Amelia or her husband, not about Theo, or Eleanor and her circumstances, or of his plans to buy Weybrook Manor. “I’ll think of something once we reach London.”

Christina caught his eye and Gavin saw that she grasped his reticence, though she could not possibly understand it. He didn’t quite understand it himself.

Amelia had grown into someone he did not know. She was older and more mature than when he’d last seen her during a short visit home three years ago. Whether it had been due to her marriage or the years she’d spent waiting for him to return from France, she had lost the softness of youth.

When Christina turned to Lord Matherley and started a discussion about his mother and sisters, Gavin was grateful. It was barely necessary for him to participate.

A
fter supper, they went into a small parlor where Avery poured glasses of sherry for the ladies, and something stronger for Gavin and himself.

Amelia clung to her husband’s arm, as if making an exhibit of their closeness to Gavin. The subtle smugness in her expression gave Christina the most devilish urge to demonstrate what a vital mistake she had made in jilting her former betrothed.

Not that there was anything wrong with Avery, but he could not compare to Gavin, in any way.

The direction of her thoughts took her aback and she took a moment to recover her grounding. Whatever was between Amelia and Gavin had naught to do with her.

“Perhaps I ought to let you retire for the night,” Avery said, though it was with some reluctance. He seemed to be enjoying their visit far too much to say good night.

“Not at all,” Christina replied. “Besides, how often do I get to visit my favorite cousin?”

Avery turned to Gavin, which gave Christina a moment to compose herself. She was very glad Amelia had not married Gavin, and her reasons were far more complicated than she ever would have thought.

“My wife tells me you were lately in France, Captain Briggs. Under whose command did you serve?”

Christina noted yet another hesitation before Gavin answered Avery’s question, and she wondered if it was because of unpleasant memories, or something entirely different. She wanted to know more about him, more than the way his calloused hands felt on her skin or the pleasing texture of his hair and the taste of his kisses. She found herself leaning forward to listen when he answered Avery’s question.

“I served under General Colville in Spain and Wellington in France.”

“You were in good company, then.”

Gavin took a sip of his drink. “Aye.”

His statement did not invite any discussion. He was the first soldier Christina had met who did not take the opportunity to elaborate on his experiences.

When Gavin said nothing more, Christina turned to Lady Matherley. “We were beset by thieves a few nights ago.”

“Good heavens, where?” Avery asked.

“A long way north, near North Riding,” Gavin said. He crossed his arms over his chest and his legs at the ankle. He appeared indifferent, but Christina could not help but notice the pointed look he shot her way. As though he did not approve of her mentioning the incident and speaking of his cool bravery in the face of such dire circumstances.

But there wasn’t any reason not to recount what happened. It’s what visitors did—made conversation exchanging stories with their hosts.

“The thieves were taken into custody and will soon stand trial,” Gavin said. “It was a minor disturbance.”

“What happened?” Amelia pressed a hand to her breast. “I cannot imagine such an occurrence.”

“Captain Briggs saved the day, but I will admit I was more frightened than I’ve ever been.” Christina ignored Gavin’s unspoken demand that she desist. She realized he would never boast, but it was the perfect opportunity to speak of his prowess.

“Who were these men, Captain?” Avery asked.

“The magistrate said they’d been harassing travelers in the vicinity for weeks. They were nothing special.”

“There were three of them, all large, dangerous men, and Captain Briggs apprehended them.” Christina was pleased to note the expression of wonder on Amelia’s face.

“That is commendable, Captain Briggs,” Avery said. “Three men? How did you do it?”

“They were hardly more than bumpkins. It was not such a great challenge,” Gavin said.

“I disagree,” Christina said. “The men came into the inn and Captain Briggs saved everyone from losing their valuables. Or worse.”

“Good heavens!” Amelia said again, looking at Gavin.

“How?” Avery asked.

“The dining room was full of travelers,” Christina said, relishing the tale. “Just ripe for plunder.”

“Oh!” Amelia whispered.

“They were huge men, all three, and so very rough with the innkeeper. They pushed into the room demanding that we turn over our money and our jewelry to them.”

“It was somewhat less dramatic than Lady Fairhaven indicates,” Gavin interjected.

“I beg to differ, Captain Briggs.” She turned back to Avery and Amelia. “The captain waited until the ruffians approached us, and then he upturned our table right onto them.”

Amelia’s eyes grew wide and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my!”

“There was a terrible confusion, with shouting and screaming all around,” Christina continued with a dramatic flourish, ignoring Gavin. “The villains struggled to get up, but Captain Briggs and another fellow traveler managed to confine them to a strong room in the inn.”

“Astonishing,” said Avery.

“You have no idea,” Christina remarked, quite pleased with the reactions of her cousin and his wife.

Gavin leaned forward. “How do you know what happened, Lady Fairhaven? I believe I sent you away before the men were fully subdued.”

She smiled. “As you know, Captain Briggs, I am not one to follow orders.”

Chapter 18

T
he conversation did not become any more comfortable, even after Christina finished her recounting of the incident at the inn near North Riding. She turned to fishing for information. About him.

“I understand you grew up in the north, near Captain Briggs’s home,” she said to Amelia.

Amelia did not answer at once, but then she nodded. “Our fathers’ estates are not far from Durham.”

It had already been mentioned that the two properties bordered one another and that they’d grown up together. But she didn’t add that she’d had her first dance with him, and her first kiss. Or that she had promised to wait for him when he went to war.

“It’s lovely country. I visited Durham once or twice with my parents,” Christina said. “You must have known the Briggs family all through your youth.” Definitely prying.

Amelia shifted slightly in her chair, and Gavin suspected she had not told Avery of her engagement to him. Why would she? Obviously, it had been of little import to her.

Christina’s attempt to gather information would have been amusing if he hadn’t been so bloody annoyed by Amelia’s aloof responses to Christina’s questions. She’d been a sweet girl, all innocence and smiles. Gavin knew she would not have dealt well with the truth of his wartime activities if he’d ever seen fit to tell her.

Still, it rankled. All these years he’d planned on coming home to her. He’d thought she would be waiting faithfully for his return.

The jest was on him, exactly as Clifford had said.

“Of course I knew the family,” Amelia said without looking at him. “When Lady Hargrove passed away, Captain Briggs’s father occasionally asked my mother for advice on housekeeping matters and . . . whatnot.”

Gavin caught Christina stealing a glance at him at the mention of his deceased mother. But he did not react, nor did he contribute to the conversation. He no longer had any connection to Seaholm Hall. His mother was long dead, and the only ones left at the family seat were his father and Clifford. The two deserved each other.

“That was quite considerate of your mother,” Christina said, and Gavin saw that she had played out her hand. There was little else she could ask without obviously prying.

Amelia stood just then, and her husband followed suit. “I fear we have kept you from your rest far too long, Lady Fairhaven.”

“Not at all. Thank you for the excellent company.”

She bid her cousin good night with a kiss on his cheek, and went upstairs with Amelia while Gavin and Lord Matherley followed.

“Have you known Captain Briggs very long, Lady Fairhaven?” Amelia spoke in a low voice, but Gavin managed to hear her question.

“No, not very,” Christina replied equivocally. “He must have been a formidable boy years ago.”

“Oh yes,” Amelia said. “The most handsome and daring lad I’d ever seen. He rather swept me off my feet.”

Gavin was unmoved by her flattery. He knew how empty such talk could be. He was a good deal more interested in the sway of Christina’s hips as she mounted the stairs before him. Her body was a perfect match to his, giving and taking equally.

“I can well imagine,” Christina said, still meddling. “But then he went off to war.”

“Yes.” Gavin heard a sigh. “And I met my husband . . . All ended well.”

Surprisingly well, in Gavin’s opinion. Especially as Amelia’s glimmer now paled compared to Lady Fairhaven, who’d secured his interest for the moment.

He could not even regret delaying his trip to Windermere. Not when he’d been welcomed into the bed of this stunning, amazingly fiery woman. Even now his fingertips itched to slide into her soft, curly hair. He could almost taste her.

“We will take our leave early tomorrow, I believe,” Christina said, looking back at Gavin for confirmation. The curls at her nape bounced a little, shimmering in the soft light of the sconces on the walls.

He gave a quick nod and tamped down the arousal that pulsed through him. “Soon after dawn.”

“I will see that breakfast is ready for you before you depart,” Amelia said.

They arrived at the guest rooms and Lord Matherley shook Gavin’s hand, bidding him good night. He and his wife retreated, but Gavin did not enter his bedroom.

Neither did Christina.

He leaned against the wall near her door. “Did Amelia satisfy your curiosity?”

She had the good grace to appear abashed. “Not at all.”

“What else would you like to know?”

She came to stand directly in front of him, her eyes a piercing green query. “More about your sister. What happened between you and your father. Why you don’t ever talk about yourself.”

He straightened and satisfied the urge to touch her hair. “There is only one relevant fact, Christina.”

“And that is?”

“How very much I’d like to carry you into that bedchamber and make love to you until it’s time to go.”

C
hristina should not have felt quite so rested when morning came. They’d gotten far too little sleep for that, and even now, Gavin lay beside her, his eyes closed peacefully in slumber. It was unlike him to sleep past dawn, and she was loath to wake him.

She wanted to enjoy their few moments in bed when she could look at him unguardedly. His jaw was strong and square, with a dark coating of whiskers he would shave before they went on their way. His lashes were thick and dark, and the scar at the corner of his eye was barely noticeable in the dim light. His nose was not quite straight, but the defect only added to the potency of his visage.

She resisted the urge to push back his hair and trace the line of his ear with her tongue, initiating another bout of lovemaking. They had only a few more minutes before Jenny would arrive.

He hadn’t answered any of her questions the night before. And why would he? They might be physically intimate, but he kept himself separate in every other way. He knew everything about her . . . But he’d told her so little about himself, it was remarkable.

Even so, Christina knew he would protect those who could not protect themselves. He took command when necessary, and elicited confidence in Hancock and Trevor. He was an amazingly tender, considerate lover, spending more time seeing to her pleasure than she would have believed possible.

She also knew she was causing him a delay in purchasing his property. She was a little bit ashamed of blackmailing him into doing her bidding just as surely as her own blackmailer was controlling her.

She wasn’t proud of it. There was little, in fact, that she could be proud of these days. From her husband’s scandalous death to her manipulation of Gavin Briggs—not to mention her affair with him—she was leading anything but the proper, demure life her parents had intended for her.

Haring down to London with him was hardly appropriate, especially since he spent every night in her bed.

And yet she could not regret any of it.

T
he closer they came to London, the easier Gavin could breathe. They’d had no trouble on the road, not since the incident at North Riding. After their stop tonight, he estimated they would have only one more day’s travel.

And then there would be no more reason for him to spend every moment of his day with Christina. Or every night.

He felt an odd twinge at the thought of leaving her at her doorstep in London. She would be alone and unprotected, but for Hancock and Trevor. She wouldn’t even have the lad, Theo, to whom she’d formed quite an attachment. She had one day to sell the jewels, and they would have reason to meet only once after that, when she had the money for the packet he would place in the lectern.

Though he would have preferred that she fill the packet with newsprint rather than actual banknotes, there was a possibility that the blackmailer would elude him. In which case their trip to London would have been in vain. The blackmailer might well disclose whatever he knew about Lang—if anything—which Gavin doubted was true.

In any case, scandals came and went in London, and whatever Lang’s predicament was would only entertain society for a limited time—just until the next scandal came along.

Like Lord Fairhaven’s death in the arms of his mistress. After that indignity, Gavin could see why Christina did not want any more scandals to taint her family name.

They rode unerringly south, and Gavin kept watch over the road behind and in front of Christina’s carriage. Now that they were closer to London, they encountered more travelers than before, but none was threatening.

After a long day in the saddle, Gavin rode ahead into Newport Pagnell. The Black Sheep Inn was a large establishment right near the road, and Gavin stopped to acquire lodgings for their party. He still planned to go about the farce of letting separate rooms for himself and Christina, but he fully intended to share her bed that night.

It was not in her best interests to make their liaison known. He had no intention of damaging her reputation. She’d had enough to deal with in recent months.

Gavin supposed that was why he had not pressed the matter of Lang’s death. Her brother was surely dead, but Christina’s hopes had been raised, and Gavin didn’t want to force his more realistic appraisal of the situation down her throat.

He went into the inn and took a look around. There was no one about but a couple of serving maids, though he heard voices in a taproom behind a staircase adjacent to the travelers’ dining room. The maids went about their tasks as Gavin walked across to the taproom, in search of the innkeeper.

Instead, what he found was a man who looked quite like the one who’d reminded him of Baron Chetwood. He was leaning back in his chair, and holding court with a group of avid followers.

This time, it actually was Chetwood.