The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl (What Happens In Scotland Book 3) (20 page)

When Matthias learned Katherine was with child, his immediate reaction was astonishment, followed swiftly by suspicion. Though he and Katherine had been intimate on several occasions, he hadn’t touched her in several months. Prior to the Scotland debacle, he’d been on the Continent, satisfying his thirst for lithe, beautiful ballet dancers.

Matthias narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean
if
she is with child?”

“Her laundering maid has been interviewed and claims her mistress has had her courses every month since you left.”

“Then there is no question—Mrs. Grant is lying about the pregnancy.”

“Not necessarily. The maid’s character is dubious, to be certain. She drinks excessively and has been known, in some circles, to engage in immoral activity.”

Matthias shook his head. “Mrs. Grant would never countenance such a woman in her household.”

“I gather Mrs. Grant doesn’t know.”

Matthias released a frustrated breath. He didn’t know what to make of the maid’s account. “Is there nothing else?”

He shrugged. “I have men following her and they have said Mrs. Grant has a fondness for riding in the mornings.”

Matthias stared at the man blankly. It was fashionable to ride in the mornings—especially among ladies who wished to emulate the
ton
. Such a habit did not seem unusual. “And?”

“Riding is not recommended for women who are
enceinte,
”
he said flatly.

“And you would know this how?” Matthias was skeptical. How would such a hardened man be in possession of such knowledge?

“I have six children.”

That certainly explained it.

“My condolences,” Matthias intoned. “But that proves nothing. Many women ride. Women who are also
enceinte,
I would wager
—
whether it is advised or not
.”

“Also, a woman arrived at Mrs. Grant’s residence three days past—with a small trunk and little else. If the servants are to be believed, the woman has taken up residence there.”

“Who is she?”

“Mrs. Grant’s sister, by all accounts.”

In all of their time together, Katherine had never spoken of a sister. Though truthfully they spoke little during their liaisons. He knew nothing of her personal life.

Opening his account book, he pulled out a signed check and handed it to Lively. “Keep an eye on her. There is something queer about all of this.”

Lively stood and took the check, glancing only briefly at the amount scrawled across the front. “I heartily agree. With your newfound title and fortune, it is best to be vigilant. A great many people will be wanting to get their hands on that money—one way or another.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Matthias was less concerned with the money, and more concerned with winning back his wife’s affections. The only problem—he still had no idea how he would accomplish that monstrous feat.

* * *

She was miserable. Every day that passed, Gwen told herself this forced separation was necessary. But with every day away from Matthias, her heart grew heavier.

She was sitting on the bed, staring out of the open window with Lady curled up at her feet, when a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Pippa. In the weeks since Gwen had arrived in the Alexander home, she and Pippa had become quite close.

Pippa was new to the Alexander home as well, having just married Lucas. It was a whirlwind romance. The kind that gave Gwen hope that true love did exist—for some people, at least. Perhaps Gwen wasn’t a member of that fortunate party.

“Two letters arrived for you this morning.”

“Who are they from?”

“I think you must know who
one
of the letters is from. He has written nearly every day. You will need to speak with him eventually, Gwendolyn. You always have a home here with us, but he is your husband—and I do truly believe he is in earnest.”

Pippa handed both letters to Gwen. One was from Matthias, as expected. The other was from a Mr. Lively of Cheapside. Curious, she opened the letter. It was a note from Mathias’s man, who had been hired to find Emily. In part, the letter read:

She is living in Kent with an ailing aunt, and claims she has no wish to return to London. She is in good health and moderate spirits. If you wish to inquire further, I will include the address where she is now living.

Moderate
spirits? What in heaven’s name had happened in Scotland? What would compel her to flee to far-off Kent without a word to Gwen—who had been her employer and friend these many years?

“Is everything all right?” Pippa asked.

“Yes,” Gwen said. “I just had news of my maid. She has been discovered in Kent.”

Gwen would write to her directly and implore her to return at once. Whatever had happened, it couldn’t have been so horrid as to warrant Emily’s estrangement.

“And what of the
other
letter?” Pippa asked not-so-subtly.

Gwen turned and flashed her a polite smile. “I will read it, I promise. But today is not about Matthias or me.” She wiped a tear off her cheek. “Is she ready?”

Pippa smiled faintly. “Not quite. She is waiting for you.”

Gwen stood and drew in a steady breath, then painted a smile on her face. She would not be forlorn on such a beautiful day.

She glanced down at Lady, who was, as always, right at Gwen’s feet. “Come on, sweet girl. It’s time.”

Stephen had arrived back in London with Emily weeks ago, and he had finally healed well enough to go through with the ceremony—to secure the marriage Gwen and Matthias had thwarted weeks ago.

When Gwen and Lady walked into the bedchamber, Evelyn was already in her wedding gown. It was made of beautiful ivory muslin with delicate lace trim. It was elegant, simple—and suited her frame flawlessly.

“You look beautiful.” Gwen summoned everything within her, and smiled, adjusting Eve’s lace veil. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Evelyn nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“It’s just that you look rather…unhappy. It’s your wedding day and I have yet to see you smile. If I didn’t know better, I would say you miss Alec.”

Evelyn sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. “Whether or not I miss Alec is of little consequence. I am engaged to Stephen and he is the man I will marry. It’s as simple as that.”

Nothing in love was ever simple. Even Gwen knew that much.

“Eve, you can’t do this…You and the Highlander—”

“Alec didn’t fight for me, Gwen. He allowed me to leave.”

Gwen shrugged. “Perhaps he did it for your benefit. He gave you his word he would allow you to leave if you wished to, did he not? I’d say that took a great deal of strength.”

There was quick knock on the door before it opened, revealing one of the maids. “I’m sorry to disturb you, miss, but Lord Crawford is here to see you.”

Evelyn seemed surprised. “Did he give a reason for his visit?”

“He just said it was a matter of some urgency.”

“Tell him I will be down in a moment,” Evelyn said.

The maid curtsied and left.

“What do you suppose he wants?” Gwen asked. The groom’s request for a meeting right before the wedding could not be a good sign.

Evelyn removed her veil—and Gwen thought she saw something like relief in her friend’s eyes. “I haven’t the slightest idea what it could be.”

“Do you think he has discovered your annulment to the blacksmith?”

“No, I think that very unlikely. My brother was careful to keep the details of the annulment quiet. He paid dearly for the discretion of all parties involved.”

“Then what do you suppose it is?”

Evelyn shrugged. “I don’t know, but I shall find out.”

* * *

Evelyn’s wedding was off. Or, at least, the wedding to
Stephen
was off. And
another
wedding to the Highlander was very much on. It was all very exciting, and Gwen couldn’t be happier for Evelyn. Against all the odds, it appeared she’d found love. True, undeniable love.

Though that love had taken her to far-flung Scotland, where she and her new husband would now live.

As the weeks passed slowly, Gwen remained at Arlington House with only Lady’s company to soothe her heartache. Pippa was a magnificent hostess, checking in on her every morning and afternoon, attempting to lure her out into the parlor for tea, or out into the garden for some fresh air. Gwen usually declined, but she was grateful for the concern.

“You look a bit peaked,” Pippa said at breakfast that morning. “Are you feeling well?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

Pippa glanced at Gwen’s plate. “You cannot live on toast alone. Do have some eggs. It will liven your constitution, I am sure of it.”

Gwen took a sip of weak tea and shook her head. “I am well, I assure you. Just tired.”

Inordinately tired, as it happened. Though she had slept relatively well, she could scarcely keep her eyes open. A touch of melancholy, perhaps.

“Perhaps I shall have the doctor look in on you when he calls this afternoon.”

A jolt of anxiety struck Gwen. “The doctor? Are you unwell?”

Pippa tucked into her eggs and shook her head. “It’s nothing of significance,” she said. “A cold or some such nonsense. I am merely calling him to satisfy Lucas’s anxiety. He will not stop fussing.”

Gwen gave a piece of her buttered toast to Lady, who was curled up at her feet. She petted the creature’s soft head as she gnawed at the toast.

The butler walked in with two letters for Gwen on a silver tray. She took them both. One was from Evelyn, regaling Gwen with the beauties of marriage and Scotland, no doubt. The other was from Matthias.

In the twelve weeks since she’d seen him last, he’d written to her every day. And everyday, she opened the letter and scanned it for news of Emily—studiously ignoring anything else Matthias had to say. It had pained her to do so. Curiosity gnawed at her and she longed to know how he was, what he was doing. But what good would come from knowing? It would only prolong the anguish.

Tucking the letters into the book she’d brought in from the library, she took one last sip from her tea and stood. “I think I will retire to my room until luncheon.”

Concern lit in Pippa’s eyes. “I am going for a stroll after breakfast, will you not join me? Fresh air is very beneficial.”

Gwen glanced down at Lady, who was now prancing around Gwen’s feet. “I suppose Lady could use a few minutes out in the fresh air. You wouldn’t happen to have a leash?”

“I do indeed!” Pippa said excitedly. “I shall ask Mrs. Meek to have Mistress Lady saddled up,” she teased. “You two have become quite inseparable.”

Gwen picked Lady up. “She’s a sweet thing. And though she has only three legs, she does not allow that to stop her. She runs and jumps just as energetically as the other dogs do.” She pursed her lips at Lady. “Don’t you, my dear sweet beasty?”

Half an hour later, they were strolling down one of the wide paths at Hyde Park, Lady bounding in front of them on the leash. And though it was not the fashionable hour, everyone, it seemed, had come out to enjoy the unseasonably cool weather.

They stopped several times to greet acquaintances and field veiled questions regarding her marriage to Matthias. After their nuptial announcement had appeared in the
Times,
the gossip rags had run with the news, printing a caricature of her lingering over a sickly man—a skeleton in the background—while Matthias peered beneath her skirts. The drawing had been cleverly entitled, “The most approved way of securing a Countess.”

It was beyond humiliating.

Still, having confined herself to her bedchamber for so long, it felt lovely to be out in the fresh air. She was in no danger of encountering Matthias here as he rarely ventured out into Hyde Park. He was not fond of the pomp and circumstance.

“The Tisdale ball is tonight,” Pippa said. “And an invitation was extended to you.”

“I do not wish to go.”

“I have already accepted on your behalf.”

Gwen turned to her, eyes wide. “Pippa!”

“It is the last event of the Season. You must go. I insist upon it.”

“Will Matthias be there?”

“I do not believe it is likely. Much like you, he has become a hermit—or so I have heard.”

“Well,” Gwen said slowly. “Perhaps a night out would not be unwelcome.”

Pippa brightened, clapping her hands together. “Capital. You will not regret it.” She hooked her arm through Gwen’s. “Thank heavens my lady’s maid will not be leaving until the end of the month.”

“Why would she leave such a coveted position?”

“She is for Devonshire to care for her ailing mother. I will be utterly lost without her.”

Just as they were turning back to return home, she caught sight of a familiar face. Katherine Grant was walking toward them on the path, her arm linked with that of a woman who had Katherine’s same wide green eyes and elegant features—clearly a sister or cousin.

Gwen immediately took in her appearance. She wore a beautiful blue and white walking dress with matching pelisse and bonnet. As always, she was perfectly coifed, and if she were still
enceinte,
it was not evident under the many layers of elegant fabric.

She stopped just as Gwen and Pippa would have passed her.

“Your Grace,” she cooed to Pippa. She shifted her focus to Gwen. “Your ladyship. You look positively radiant. Married life certainly becomes you.” She glanced over Gwen’s shoulder. “Where is your dear husband? How I long to see him.”

As Gwen stood there, clutching Pippa’s arm, she suddenly felt dizzy. The audacity of this woman’s address was like a slap to the face—a complete disrespect of Gwen’s position as Matthias’s wife.

She groped for a spitting response, but was so flustered, no words came to mind. None at all. But thank heavens for Pippa. Without a word, she tightened her grip on Gwen’s arm, lifted her chin and brushed right past Katherine—giving her the cut direct in front of
everyone.

The childish part of Gwen wished she’d flung a cutting remark at Katherine before she and Pippa had floated away. But Gwen knew even
that
acknowledgment of Katherine would have been too kind.