The Earl Claims His Wife (20 page)

She sanded the paper and folded it into an envelope before she lost her courage. Her hand trembled as she addressed the envelope—

“Gillian?”

Wright’s voice surprised her. She turned and saw him walk into the room. She’d been so involved in her task, she hadn’t heard him come in.

Quickly, she slid the envelope into the desk drawer and closed it.

Gillian smiled in greeting, but Brian immediately sensed she was upset. It was there in her eyes and the way she all but jumped up from the desk as if he had caught her doing something she shouldn’t.

“Oh, you are home,” she said as if it was unexpected. “How is the weather outside? I haven’t been out all day.”

“It will snow tonight,” he answered, distracted by her uneasiness. “Have you been crying?”

Her eyes widened. “No, I haven’t—” she started and then changed her mind. “I mean, I was upset.

But I’m better now.”

He immediately advanced toward her. “Who upset you? Was it Mrs. Vickery?”

“No, why would she do that?” Gillian asked. She pressed her fingers against the desk drawer, ensuring it was closed before moving toward him. He’d noticed her slip something into it and now this small action was suspicious.

Of course, after his father’s revelations that his hirelings had included the man closest to him, Brian was feeling more than a bit mistrustful.

He could ask her about what she’d placed in the drawer. She’d take whatever it was out and he would see it had been a shopping or menu list and he’d feel silly. Worse, she’d have another reason to nurse her grudge against him.

So, Brian kept quiet, although his curiosity knew no bounds.

“I had an interesting afternoon. I met Liverpool at White’s and afterwards, ran into my father. Or rather, he hunted me down.”

That captured Gillian’s attention. “What did the marquess want?”

“Ultimately, for me to do as bid. He knows everything, Gillian, including our thirty-day pact. He finds it amusing.”

Her face flooded with color. “How would he know that?”

“I have my suspicions,” he started, but a footstep in the hall made him turn toward the door.

The maid Kate entered the room carrying Anthony. The moment the baby saw Brian, a smile lit his face and he started kicking his feet as if he could run through the air for Brian’s arms.

In two long strides, Brian met the maid and took the baby from her. He held Anthony up in the air.

The baby was putting on weight. In another week or so, he’d have healthy rolls on his legs and arms.

Anthony laughed at being so high.

“Careful, my lord,” Kate warned, laughing with them. “He’s just eaten.”

Brian made a face, knowing exactly what she meant. He lowered the baby into his arms. “We’d best wait a bit before we play,” he told Anthony and then said to Kate, “Please tell Mrs. Vickery I want to see her in the sitting room.”

“Yes, my lord.” The maid headed for the kitchen.

Holding Anthony, Brian turned toward Gillian, and then stopped. She watched him with large somber eyes. He sensed the tension in her. She was like a rope pulled to its snapping point.

“What is it?” he asked quietly.

“The baby truly adores you,” she said. He waited, knowing there was more. There was a beat of silence and then, “I met Jess.”

Of all the things she could have said, he’d not anticipated that one. He crossed to her, drawing her over to the settee, balancing Anthony with his other arm. Now he understood her peculiar behavior.

Urging her to sit, he asked, “Where did you meet Jess?”

“Here.” She raised a hand to her temple as if to stave off a headache. “Kate came running to tell me there was a strange woman in Anthony’s bedroom. I went upstairs and there she was.”

“Wasn’t the front door locked?”

“I don’t know,” Gillian said. “It usually is.”

“It was when I just came in.” Anthony was investigating the knot in Brian’s neck cloth while making a little cooing sound, which was his latest trick. “Someone must have let her in.” And he suspected who had done so. “What was she doing up in the nursery?”

“Holding the baby. I arrived just as she’d picked him up. She knows he is hers. She’s proud of him,”

Gillian added as if she couldn’t believe a mother who had willingly abandoned her child would dare to be so.

“Did she say anything?”

Those solemn eyes rose to meet his. “She wants you back.”

The suggestion was so ludicrous that Brian almost laughed. What stopped him was the grave expression on Gillian’s face.

“Jess doesn’t want me,” he assured her. He sat next to her. “My father is the more lucrative catch of the two of us. Now, would she like to stir the pot up between the two of us? Absolutely.”

She didn’t return his smile. “She’s very beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” Brian countered.

Gillian made a sound of protest and would have risen, but he caught her arm and pulled her back down.

“You are,” he insisted. Anthony gave one of his “coos” in agreement.

“Brian, the woman was elegance itself. Her dress was all lace and silk and I swear a cloud of roses follows her wherever she goes. The nursery still smells of her.”

“Then we shall open a window and air it out. Gillian, you are far more interesting and intelligent than Jess ever could be. Your beauty surpasses hers. You don’t need to spend hours pampering yourself and thinking about no one but yourself. Jess has no conversation. Or interests. Whereas, I will never tire of your intelligence or the wisdom of your mind.”

“And yet, you loved her.”

Was this what had her upset? Jealousy?

If she was jealous, then she must care for him.

Brian brought Anthony around to sit in his lap. “Jess was a part of my youth. She had a father who abused her and I felt drawn to protect her. She truly is as defenseless as a lamb. But you,” he said, reaching for her hand and lacing his fingers with hers. “You are a part of my present and my future.

You aren’t afraid of life and haven’t ever waited for someone to save you. You are as resilient as you are lovely. Your strength is in your faith.” How can I not help but be in love with you?

He almost said the words aloud. He almost declared himself but caught himself. Gillian had to know he was in love with her…and if she didn’t say anything, then it was because she didn’t want him to be.

God knew he’d made so many mistakes with this woman. She’d be wise not to trust him.

But before they could resolve the issue, Mrs. Vickery presented herself. Her mobcap was slightly askew as if she’d been cooking like a whirling dervish down in his kitchen, something he knew was not true.

“My lord wished to see me? I must warn you, my bread needs to come out of the oven at any moment now.”

“Then you’d best tell one of the others to take it out,” Brian advised. Gillian was still pale and obviously upset. Perhaps it would be best if she wasn’t here for this. “Why don’t you take the baby?”

he asked Gillian. “And please pass on the word to the kitchen about the bread.”

His statement brought Mrs. Vickery’s eyebrows all the way to her hairline. “You needn’t worry, my lady. I’ll go tell someone—”

“You’ll stay where you stand, Mrs. Vickery,” Brian commanded, rising.

Such was his tone that the woman paused, one foot in mid-air.

Gillian gathered Anthony from him and held him close. Jess’s visit had her rattled. For letting Jess into his house alone, Brian would have sacked Mrs. Vickery. But the reporting to his father was the deeper transgression.

“Is there a problem, my lord?” Mrs. Vickery asked.

Brian waited until Gillian and Anthony had left the room. “There is. You have been spying on me, Mrs. Vickery. You are in the employ of my father and have been sending him regular reports.”

As bald as you pleased, she answered, “I’m not the first to do so.”

“Do you mean Hammond?”

She appeared surprised he knew.

“Gather your things and be out the door in ten minutes,” he instructed her.

Mrs. Vickery straightened her mobcap. She appeared ready to say something in her defense, but then her expression turned as cagey as any common money grubber. “If you will pardon me for saying so, my lord, but you aren’t thinking this matter through. If you wished me to do so, I could go to your father, tell him you gave me the boot, and then report back to you what happens over there under his roof. That way it wouldn’t all be so one-sided.”

“What is one-sided?” he asked.

“Oh, what everyone is saying about you,” she said almost cheerfully. “The marquess takes my reports and creates rumors out of them. Of course, you didn’t help yourself when you moved out from under his roof, if’n you ask me. Everyone thought that was not a good move. The marquess told folks the war had made you angry and a bit unreliable.”

“You seem to be remarkably well informed, Mrs. Vickery,” Brian observed.

“I have a bit of wit in my head,” she answered. “And the curiosity of a cat. I wondered what the marquess would do with all this information. Then I overheard him speaking to his wife about what I’d said. That’s how I know they are using my reports to make you appear a bit havey-cavey, my lord.

Not that you weren’t doing such a poor job of the matter yourself what with taking in that babe and all.”

Brian heard echoes of his mother’s voice in Mrs. Vickery’s last words. His mother would never believe there was anything more important than her social life.

And he didn’t know what offended him more—Mrs. Vickery’s smug familiarity or that she thought him of the same ilk as his father.

“Your assistance isn’t necessary to me, Mrs. Vickery. But I would say a word of caution. My father is notoriously fickle. Nor does he reward for loyal service.”

“I shall remember that, my lord.” She heaved a sigh as if to say what is done is done and turned toward the door but paused. “If I may make one last comment?”

With a nod, Brian bade her speak.

“I really do believe it is a miracle what you and Lady Wright have done for that child. And I told that woman so when she came in this afternoon.”

“Who told you to let her in?” Brian had to ask, his curiosity having the better of him.

“The marquess sent a footman with her. They came in through the kitchen. He waited for her outside.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Vickery.”

She bowed her head, for the first time acting truly ashamed of herself, and left the room. Since she’d taken on the role of cook, her quarters were off the kitchen below stairs. Brian would give her a few minutes and then check to see that she was gone.

He glanced out the window. It hadn’t started snowing yet. If his father could use a footman to cart Jess around, then he could just as easily send one for Mrs. Vickery. With the thought of writing a message to that effect in mind, Brian crossed to the desk, opened the drawer, and saw the letter addressed to Andres Ramigio, barón de Vasconia.

This was what Gillian had been hiding from him. Ink and pen were still out on the desk. She’d just written this letter. No wonder she had seemed so agitated when he came in unexpectedly.

He picked the letter up and turned it in his hands. It was sealed shut. He was tempted to open it…but to what purpose?

Brian was glad now that he hadn’t declared himself to her.

Or so he told himself.

He sat in the chair, holding the letter out, feeling the weight of it, debating what to do next. It would be so easy to tear it into a million pieces.

But that wouldn’t change a thing.

Funny, but Brian had never thought that when poets wrote of a heavy heart, they meant the description literally. Right now, his heart felt the weight of ten stone in his chest.

He placed the letter back where he had found it.

Pulling out another sheet of paper, he penned his note to his father. He closed the drawer and went outside where he found a lad loitering on a corner willing to run the message for a coin.

By the time he returned, Gillian was waiting for him in the sitting room. She’d placed Anthony on a blanket on the floor and he was happily playing with his fingers.

She stood up from the settee upon his entrance. “Mrs. Vickery is packing.”

“I sent a message to my father to send a footman for her.”

“That is more than kind,” Gillian assured him.

She was so very beautiful to him. It almost hurt to look at her right now.

He shifted his gaze to his son. Anthony smiled up at him and it healed some of the pain in his heart.

He focused on what must be done next.

“We shall need to hire a new cook,” Brian said. “And a valet. I also believe,” he added thoughtfully,

“that we should hire a nurse for Anthony.” He reached down and picked up the child. “He’s stronger now, isn’t he? He’s been sleeping through the night and he eats well.”

“A nurse might be a good addition to the household,” Gillian agreed. Almost timidly she suggested,

“Then again, I believe Kate could serve the purpose. She’s been doing so well the past week. We should move her from the servants’ quarters to the nursery.”

Where he slept.

Then again, once Gillian left him again, he’d return to his old bedroom.

“Brian, is everything all right?”

He glanced at her then. Her brows were drawn in concern. “That’s the second time in the past hour you’ve used my given name. Be careful, Wife, or you might find yourself liking me.” He’d meant for the words to sound lighter than they came out.

“I do like you,” Gillian said. She sounded offended that he would doubt the fact.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted something more. He wanted something Gillian obviously wasn’t going to ever be able to give him.

“I’ll need to find a valet,” he said, changing the subject. “Then perhaps I’ll have decent starch in my neck cloths again.” He shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was speaking of such mundane matters.

Everything he’d thought he could accomplish, every goal he’d set seemed to have turned to dust. He really had believed Gillian would stay with him.

And he dealt with his shattered expectations by talking about starch and neck cloths.