The Earl Claims His Wife (4 page)

She didn’t know Andres’s experience but she knew his heart. He would fight to the death for her.

There was the slide of steel-on-steel and then both raised their arms—

Gillian found her voice. “No.” She rushed forward, placing herself between the two men and their swords.

Both had been ready to deliver slicing blows. They pulled their weapons back just in time. Wright swore colorfully. “Do you realize you could have been killed?”

She shook off his complaint, unconcerned for her own safety. “This is nonsense,” she informed them, speaking as if they were schoolboys. “I’m not worth fighting over.”

“We disagree,” Andres said.

Wright kept quiet, wary and impatient. Both men were anxious to continue their duel…and Gillian knew what she had to do.

Her husband would not give up. His pride was at stake.

And Andres…Andres so much wanted to be her champion. His love, his loyalty pierced her soul.

But she could not ask him to stake his life for her. Wright was ruthless. He was his father’s son. The marquess didn’t hesitate to mow down anyone who stood in his way.

There was one thing she could do to protect her beloved Andres. “I’ll go with you, Wright. You’ve won. Have a coach readied. We’ll leave as soon as I pack.”

She did not wait for his response but started walking toward the house.

Brian Ranson, the recently named Lord Wright, watched his wife storm up the path toward the house. Her back was ramrod straight, her skirts swung with indignation—and he knew.

Gillian had taken a lover. A Spaniard, no less.

The realization flew in the face of every notion he’d held about his wife. He had expected the old Gillian, a mouse of a woman who’d been easily cowed by playing to her conscience.

Instead, he’d arrived to see her looking in good spirits and with a healthy measure of pride. She was confident, strong willed…and stunningly beautiful.

Of course, her looks had always been there. There were few men who wouldn’t have admired her golden blond hair or her figure, which was round and full in all the right places. Brian had always found Gillian attractive, even when he’d been in love with Jess, a slim brunette.

But there was something more here surrounding Gillian. Perhaps it was the laugh lines around blue eyes that snapped with intelligence. Or that she hadn’t hesitated to make her opinion of him clear.

From the moment he’d presented himself, she’d let him know her displeasure and he felt chastened.

It was a novel experience for a man who’d once had the ability to make infantrymen, officers, and French alike quake in their boots.

And convinced him he was exactly correct in his instincts to bring Gillian by his side.

This new Gillian was the sort of woman he needed. She could face the challenges ahead…if he could bring her to London.

The Spaniard brushed by him, heading up the path after Gillian.

Brian caught his arm. “My wife,” he said.

“That can change,” the Spaniard answered.

“No, it won’t,” Brian said, feeling a bit smug at putting the rival in his place. “She’s made her decision.”

The Spaniard shook his head, unoffended. “You are a fool,” he said softly. “That woman has more honor and dignity than you and I together could ever imagine. She’ll go with you because it is her duty but she’ll find no joy in the task.” He dropped his gaze to where Brian’s hand still held his arm.

Brian released his hold, struck by the truth of his opponent’s words.

This time when the Spaniard turned to go, he let him.

He turned and discovered everyone watched him, their disapproval clear in their expressions. He was the villain here, and he didn’t know quite how that had happened.

Brian hid his doubts by taking charge. He nodded toward Packy. “Prepare a coach for my lady and bring it up to the house with all haste.” He didn’t wait to see his order followed but started up the path.

Lady Kensett’s soft voice called to him to wait.

A stab of annoyance went up Brian’s back. He’d been riding hard for the last five hours. His reception so far had not been pleasant. He didn’t have time to go chasing his wife, let alone listen to the admonishments that he knew Lady Kensett wished to convey, and yet he would not be rude.

He tried to divert her by saying, “I know. You were right. You warned me. I should have come sooner.”

She placed her hand on his arm, forcing him to slow down to her aged pace as they walked up to the house. Impatience made him want to shake her off; manners forced him to obey. She smiled up at him as if knowing exactly what he was thinking.

“They aren’t lovers,” she confided. “Not yet, at least. Although I believe she was ready to capitulate.

The barón cuts a very romantic figure.”

“No wonder he is so angry,” Brian responded. “I robbed him of his prize. Of course, perhaps I would be doing the men of England a service by running him through.”

“Possibly, except I do believe he does love Gillian,” Lady Kensett said. “This was no passing fancy for him.”

That gave Brian pause. The sharp-eyed old lady noticed. She never missed a thing. “Good. It’s nice to know you have some feelings for her, Wright, even if they are nothing more than proprietary. That duel was like watching two dogs with one bone, except that one of the dogs had true feelings for the bone. The other man just wanted it because it was his.”

“Gillian is my wife,” he answered as his defense. “Of course, I am concerned another man has serious feelings for her.”

“And that is why you let her languish out in the country for so long?”

He made an impatient gesture. “I came as soon as I could.” Which was true. He couldn’t really even afford the time here now but desperate men took desperate measures. His life was unraveling and Gillian was the only person left who might be able to help him. In his defense, he added, “And she hasn’t wanted me to come for her. Or did you notice how welcoming she was when I arrived?”

“Gillian is a sensitive sort. I warned you when you asked for her hand. I said she was a country girl and used to country ways. You shouldn’t have let her know you had a mistress, Wright. It was very careless of you.”

“Or very honest.”

Lady Kensett snorted her opinion. “What? Am I walking beside that rarity of rarities? An honest man? Please, Wright, you are a politician. You know that some things are best left unspoken.”

“I’m not a politician,” he insisted. “I’m a soldier.”

“Not anymore. Not now that you are your father’s heir. It was deuced bad luck for you that your brothers died. Before you could have done as you pleased. Now, you march to the marquess’s tune.”

“Is all of England about nothing but building power and social status?” he asked bitterly.

“Yes,” Lady Kensett said without hesitation. “And it’s always been thus. You’ve forgotten because you’ve been so busy fighting the French. There are expectations that go with a title. Responsibilities.”

She frowned. “I just had this discussion with Gillian.”

He frowned. It was probably concerning him. He decided not to touch it. “What I find difficult,” he murmured, “is how everyone thinks me odd to truly mourn the loss of my brothers. It is as if they feel I should be pleased with my good fortune over the title that came to me from their deaths.” Even his parents seemed calloused. Not once had his mother shed a tear at their memories.

“It’s good you’ve returned to England,” Lady Kensett observed dryly. “Unfortunately, you’ve grown a heart and a conscience since you’ve been away. Get rid of them. They’ll serve you no good purpose in London and Gillian has heart and conscience enough for the both of you.”

Brian stopped. “Was I that jaded before I went to war?”

“Yes, and I’m not certain I didn’t like you better.”

Lady Kensett’s tart reply was unsettling.

They’d reached the top of the path. “Take that door, the garden door,” she ordered, directing him with a point of her finger. “There is no need for you to go in the front entrance. The house is still full of relatives. Those that didn’t go down for the duel will be waiting for you. I imagine there will be a flurry of letter-writing this night. The story may be all over London before your return. Remarkable how the post can be efficient when we least wish it to be.” She was leaning heavily on his arm and he realized she was tired.

“Here, let me lead you to someplace where you can sit and rest,” he said.

“The garden door will be fine enough,” she responded, not refusing his offer. “There is a sitting room off to the side.”

Brian had been to Huntleigh before. Holburn had invited him out for some hunting shortly after his betrothal to Gillian had been announced. It had been a good day and it had convinced Brian his parents had been right in insisting he marry her. It had also given him the opportunity to discuss with the duke a vote coming before the House of Lords that Brian’s father had been keen to see go his way—

“She did love you, you know,” Lady Kensett said, interrupting his thoughts.

Brian didn’t comprehend at first. His mind was still in politics. Lady Kensett made a sound of frustration. “You are a fool, Wright.”

“I am not trying to be,” he said in his defense, opening the garden door to a wood-paneled hallway and allowing her to enter first. “And how could Gillian have loved me? We barely knew each other.”

In fact, they were still strangers, especially since she had changed so radically.

“Men just don’t understand women,” she said to the empty hallway.

For the first time in his life, Brian could agree with that statement. Certainly Jess had played him for a fool and now Gillian—

No, Gillian was coming back to London with him. The one person a man ought to be able to count on was his wife, or so Brian had told himself repeatedly on his way to Huntleigh. Gillian was a good sort. She knew her duties. She was just the person to be in his corner.

“You haven’t been hearing a word I’ve been saying,” Lady Kensett said. “Go on then. Find your wife.

Let’s see if you can keep her this time. Use the back stairs. Her room is on the second floor. A servant can guide you when you reach it.”

Brian didn’t argue but led her to the side room where there were a few chairs and a lovely view of the winter garden. Bowing over her hand, he assured her, “I was listening. And I’ll try to heed your wisdom.”

“I doubt you will,” she disagreed with a tight smile. “After all, I’m nothing more than an old woman and you are, once things are said and done, your father’s son. But I wish you well with Gillian. I like you, Wright. Always have. I had hoped the two of you would have made a good match. It pains me to see her this angry.”

“She has some cause,” he admitted.

“Oh, I have no doubt of that. What worries me is what you shall do about it. Happy hunting.” She sank wearily into an upholstered chair and gave a soft sigh of relief. She waved for him to leave and he did so.

Brian walked down the hall. He’d known this wasn’t going to be easy. And it wasn’t over yet. He had to make some sort of amends with Gillian and win her over before they left or else she’d truly have a fit when they reached London.

The stairs were located off the main hall. The house was full of Holburn’s relatives, and Brian ran into several as he made his way up two flights. On the first floor, three women had their heads together. As he came around the corner, they shot him looks that would have pierced right though his heart if they had been arrows.

Fortunately, the second floor wasn’t as busy. At the top of the stairs, he found a maid who nodded in the direction of a half-open door at the other end of the hall.

He walked to the door, but before he could knock, he heard Gillian saying, “Yes, pack it all in this trunk, Rennie. However, I want the green day dress and my walking shoes in this bag along with my toiletries. I have no idea what Lord Wright has planned for this trip. If we stay at an inn, the bag will be easier to manage than the trunk.”

A stay at an inn. That was a good idea. He’d thought to go hard and fast and reach London in the very late hours of the night. But one night would not hurt anything…and give him some time alone with his wife.

“Yes, my lady,” the maid answered, her voice sounding stifled.

“Oh, Rennie, please don’t cry…or you’ll have me crying, too.”

“I’ll miss you, my lady. We all will on the staff. Everyone is most upset.”

There was a beat of silence. Brian leaned his shoulder against the door sill. Gillian was still hidden from view but he could see the maid. She was dressed in Holburn’s blue and cream livery and very pregnant.

“I’ll be back,” Gillian assured her. “Before you realize I’m gone, I’ll be returning again. And when I do return, I want to hold your baby.”

“Well, you’d best not be gone long, my lady,” the teary-eyed maid said. “Because I feel as if I could have this child tomorrow.”

Gillian laughed, the sound full of humor. Brian was transfixed. He remembered the first time he’d heard her laugh. There was no sound lighter or full of joy than Gillian’s laughter. It was one of the reasons he’d decided to obey his father and offer for her.

Of course, shortly after they married, she stopped laughing.

“You aren’t going to have that child for another two months, Rennie,” Gillian said, moving into Brian’s line of vision.

“Oh, my lady, you must be wrong. I don’t believe I can go on much longer. I feel ready to hatch, I do.”

“Don’t worry,” Gillian said, gently brushing back a curl that had escaped the maid’s mobcap. “It will be over before you know it and when that happens, this pregnancy will have been worth the discomfort. You are going to have the sweetest, happiest baby.”

She made babies sound wonderful, and Brian wanted to believe that was true, even though it hadn’t been his experience. However, he congratulated himself. He’d made the right decision coming for her. Gillian would make things right. She’d repair the chaos that had become his life.

He rapped lightly on the door, wanting to let her know he was there.

Her manner changed. The smile left her eyes and her lips curled in disdain.