Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace (25 page)

His aunt’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “I had such great plans for you. How did we run afoul?”

“I have thought of little else since Mr. Rankin clarified my father’s wishes,” Gabriel confessed. “At first, thinking in my conceit, I would have done things differently, I cursed my ignorance. But after the initial shock, I realized I would likely have postponed the decision to marry only when father’s will forced me to do so. I have grown accustomed to my own way. Perhaps, I would have chosen someone a bit earlier. I cannot say for certain. I thought I knew what I expected in a wife, but some self-censure has proved all those preconceived notions null. Miss Haverty has received a proper education in the arts, which a man requires in a wife. She will serve me well.”

Bel countered, “But does the lady have the mettle to challenge your passion.”

Gabriel automatically thought of Grace. He suspected few women of his acquaintance possessed the lady’s ingenuity and determination. He could not imagine Miss Haverty would ever agree to share her room with a stranger and to perform the type of surgery to which many men would turn up their noses. “I will keep my passion in check,” he said resolutely. “There is no place for emotions in marriage of those of our station.” With that, Gabriel kissed his aunt’s cheek and headed for his waiting carriage.

*

“When may we expect the ship?” Murhad Jamot asked the man he had never trusted.

“It is winter and the crossing is not easy,” the man said smugly. “The icy waters may delay the delivery. It could be a fortnight or a month or even two.”

Jamot eyed the man with whom he had struck his most recent negotiations. If this English pig thought he could cheat Jamot out of the fortune the Baloch knew awaited the owner of the ship’s hidden cargo, his newest partner would find himself at the bottom of the icy waters the man had claimed had precipitated the delay. In the two years he had been in “this God-forsaken land,” Jamot had dispensed with more than one Englishman, and he would have no qualms in repeating himself. “I have other business,” he said mysteriously.

“As do I,” the Englishman declared confidently. “I have a marquis to kill.”

Jamot realized his temporary partner expected a reaction, but Shaheed Mir would have Jamot’s head on a stake if the Baloch betrayed his thoughts to an Englishman. The only marquis of whom Jamot was aware was Lord Godown. In England, they referred to a man in an equal position as a marquess. Only the French and the Scottish used the term marquis. “The death of an aristocrat will bring undue attention to our enterprise,” Jamot said evenly. He despised having to speak in the English tongue. Of late, he had more intensely missed his homeland. “What has the man done to drive you to take such a risk?”

“Never you mind. I will dispose of the marquis without incident.”

Jamot thought the man an absolute “fool” if he planned to make Lord Godown his enemy. He knew each of the Realm members better than he did his own tribesmen. Although they were each gentlemen in English Society, they were also dangerous agents for the British government. Pretending interest in the shipping charts spread before them on the table, he said evenly, “Then I will leave you to it.” But silently, Jamot vowed to observe his current collaborator. He could not permit the narrow-sighted Englishman to kill the Marquis of Godown until he was certain the former Realm held no knowledge of Mir’s missing emerald. After that, he would permit the English pigs to feast on each other’s weaknesses.

*

“Are you warm enough?” Gabriel asked as he handed Miss Haverty a lap rug.

The girl nodded her gratitude. “The sun is warmer than it appears,” she said softly. Her habit of hiding her voice from her audience had already begun to wear on Gabriel’s nerves. He imagined spending the next twenty to thirty years bent to the side to hear the lady clearly. Perhaps, he should consider an ear trumpet now. He found the image of his walking about Town with the device to his ear quite amusing. “Have I said something to bring on your bemusement, my Lord?” Her chastisement would have served her better if she had raised her voice or added an element of brusqueness. Instead, Miss Haverty delivered her question with a look of incredulity, but laced with controlled indifference. God! When he married her, he would break her of the maddening habit before it drove him insane.

He lied, “I was just considering how pleasant it was to spend time with a lovely woman.”

The girl blushed, and Gabriel breathed easier. He could do this, he told himself as he maneuvered his pair of grays into the line entering the park. In the spring and early summer, the line of vehicles crowding the paths toward the Serpentine crept along. As the winter had remained cool but dry, a goodly number of the ton had chosen to spend their day outdoors; yet, even with the others late to leave Society for their country estates, he found the drive a pleasant experience.

Dutifully, he stopped several times so Miss Haverty could converse with her acquaintances. Only once did he pause to speak to someone he knew. Kerrington brought his carriage along side of Gabriel’s. “Godown,” his former commander acknowledged Gabriel with a raised eyebrow that said he did not approve of Gabriel’s chosen solution to his current dilemma.

“Worthing. Lady Worthing.” He inclined his head to the pair. “I hope the day finds you well, my Lady.”

Lady Eleanor snuggled minutely closer to her husband, and Gabriel’s heart lurched. He would never know such intimacy. “I am, Lord Godown,” Lady Worthing said aristocratically. Thornhill’s sister glowed with happiness.

“Lord and Lady Worthing, may I make you acquainted with with Miss Haverty? Miss Haverty, the Viscount and Viscountess Worthing,” he led the introductions.

Miss Haverty automatically dropped her eyes. “Lady Worthing. Lord Worthing. I am please to have Lord Godown’s acknowledgement.”

Gabriel wished Miss Haverty would meet his friends’ gazes. He wished she would speak with confidence. However, she remained in a subservient pose. After an awkward pause in which both he and the Worthings remained silent, Kerrington said, “Please join us on Friday, Godown. We are planning an informal gathering before Her Ladyship and I return to Linton Park.”

“So soon? Have you finished your business in Town, Worthing?” Gabriel asked.

Lady Worthing leaned forward and said in a teasing tone, “Lord Worthing maintains a wife in Derbyshire, Lord Godown. He requires no reason to wile away his hours at White’s and Brook’s.”

Gabriel winked at Eleanor Kerrington. He had thought her quite remarkable from the moment of their first acquaintance. When one considered what she had once endured under William Fowler’s roof, a person could have nothing but respect for the lady’s resiliency. “Take him home, my Lady. A man of Lord Worthing’s age and nature should have known the last of his days at Almack’s.”

Kerrington chuckled, “Despite my elderly persuasion, I am satisfied with my lot.” He kissed the back of his wife’s gloved hand. “I will send a note regarding details for the gathering to Fugol Hall, Godown.” With a flick of his reins, Lord Worthing pulled away.

Gabriel immediately felt bereft of his friend’s presence. He glanced at the young girl seated beside him. She was between eighteen and nineteen and so young. So naïve. She was not of his world. How could they ever know happiness? You will not, a voice in his head screamed. Happiness is for fools. Lady Worthing was but one and twenty. The Duchess of Thornhill not yet twenty, and Lady Yardley but nineteen. What made those women different from the lady sharing his carriage seat? They had known personal trials. Surely, Miss Haverty has her own demons, he thought. Perhaps, there was still hope for the girl. Time would prove the defining element.

“I was appalled,” she said into the silence between them, “at how familiarly Lady Worthing spoke of her husband. My mother would take me to task if I ventured such a disrespectful tone with my any man.”

Gabriel’s mind traced the conversation between the Worthings. He had found nothing objectionable in the exchange. In fact, he had admired how Kerrington had found what they had all wanted. “I assure you, Miss Haverty, Lord Worthing found nothing at fault. Did you not observe his loving gesture?”

“I did, but I did not approve. There is a time for such intimacies,” she said.

So out of character with the girl who barely raised her voice earlier, Gabriel could not help but stare at her. “You should know, Miss Haverty, I would expect my wife to feel comfortable with such a gesture from me.”

Again, the girl dropped her eyes. A gesture of which he knew immediately he would quickly tire. “I would deem it an honor to know my husband’s affections,” Miss Haverty said dutifully. Which woman was the real Miss Haverty? The quiet, dutiful girl or the woman who had risked an opinion based on misinformation? And could he survive being married to either? His hands tightened on the reins, and Dacula pulled to the left. Gabriel quickly made the adjustment to bring the horse under control. Now, if he could just rein in his own panic.

*

Four days later, he stood dutifully beside Mr. Haverty and watched the man’s daughter dance with Lord Abbott. A quick glance told him his friends, minus Lord and Lady Worthing had gathered directly across the ballroom from him. Unlike the somber attitude he maintained as part of the Havertys’ party, his friends shared a good laugh. Besides Lady Yardley and the Duchess of Thornhill, Lord Hellsman, Miss Tilney and her sister, Miss Abigail, had joined the group. They appeared relaxed and enjoying themselves.

His expression must have conveyed his desire to be elsewhere because Haverty said, “Your former acquaintances make a spectacle of themselves,” the man said under his breath.

For the thousandth time in the last fortnight, Gabriel swallowed his retort. Instead, he said, “Why would you think you look upon my former colleagues?”

Haverty’s countenance reddened. “You should know, my Lord, I would not look kindly upon someone exposing my daughter to a society based on title rather than morals.”

Gabriel felt his ire increase, but his years with the Realm had taught him to mask his feelings well. “I am afraid I do not understand your objections, Haverty. As you say, my associates are among England’s highest ranking families.”

Haverty motioned Gabriel away from eavesdropping matrons. When the man spoke again, it was as if he instructed a misbehaving schoolboy. “Mrs. Haverty and I have sheltered Alice from bad Society,” he explained. And then Haverty lowered his voice further. “Thornhill’s father left a mark of destruction on his title. That particular smudge is compounded with the actions of both the Duchess and Yardley’s lady. Despite their brilliant marriages, the sisters’ reputations remain in ruin. And I will not remind you of the spectacle Lowery and his lady created at the Dryburghs’ Come Out Ball.”

“Surely, you cannot blame Thornhill for his father’s shortcomings,” Gabriel said incredulously. “As for the Aldridge sisters, instead of scorn, I would think they deserve respect. Both survived horrendous circumstances, not of their own making. And although quite nontraditional, I found the depth of Lord Hellsman’s affection for Miss Tilney refreshing. I am proud to have served with each of those men.” He nodded toward the group. “This country is fortunate for their loyalties.”

Haverty appeared taken aback. “Although I do see a need for those who serve beyond the battlefield, I have heard tales of the type of missions you and your friends conducted.” The man, literally, thumbed his nose in disgust.

Gabriel ached to present the man a facer, but this was Miss Haverty’s father. The parent of the woman he intended to marry. “I promise you, Haverty, I would never force my wife to associate with someone who made her uncomfortable.” Gabriel bit the inside of his jaw to resist screaming out against the injustice of the situation. If he continued his pursuit of Miss Haverty, Gabriel would likely lose the only friends he had ever known.

*

“Are we to terminate our plans?” Lyn asked as the Roses gathered in Lía’s sitting room prior to their night at the opera with Godown and the Havertys.

“I cannot believe we can find no word of Miss Nelson,” Bel said dejectedly. “In my conceit, I thought it would be so easy to locate the woman.”

Lía confessed, “I am more concerned daily with Godown’s determination to align himself with Alice Haverty. We erred greatly in thinking the girl’s bloodlines would prove Godown’s salvation.”

Lyn shared, “I have questioned everyone of whom I can assume a connection to the Nelsons. I spent some time with Lady Yardley earlier in the week. Evidently, Miss Nelson was employed in Lord Averette’s household as his daughter Gwendolyn’s governess, but the Countess has had no contact with Miss Nelson since Cashémere Wellston departed Scotland in the earl’s company.”

Bel fastened the necklace Lía had chosen to wear. “We know Miss Nelson returned to Lancashire after rescuing Godown in Scotland, but no one seems to know what happened to her after the lady departed for London. Evidently, from what our investigator has discovered Miss Nelson left her home in the night’s middle, taking the mail coach to London. We are aware of her calling at Fugol Hall with the mysterious sketch she left in our nephew’s care, but what happened to the lady from that point forward? No registration at an inn within five miles of London nor a registration at an employment agency.” Bel shook her head in disbelief. “It is if the woman simply disappeared into London’s under belt.”

“Could Miss Nelson be part of the problem?” Lyn asked softly. “We thought Miss Haverty would be the solution; I am no longer certain we know what is best for our nephew. Mayhap we should permit Godown to make his own choices.”

Bel grumbled, “You mean his own mistakes.”

Lía stood slowly, using her cane to balance her weight. “Our search may be a moot point. I suspect Gabriel will soon propose to Miss Haverty. We may locate Miss Nelson, but it will likely be too late.”

*

Gabriel seated Miss Haverty beside him in his private box. His skin crawled where her hand rested on his arm. The girl was pretty enough. More attractive than the majority of the women in the ton, but something about the girl bothered him. For one thing, she had no opinions of her own. Mrs. Haverty had instructed her daughter to be a milquetoast. To mimic everyone around her. To avoid offending anyone. Yet, such inane sensibilities had offended him.