Chapter Four #3
The duchess’s words, words he had not contemplated since before his marriage, played in his mind as clear and articulate as if she stood beside him and spoke them now. Women such as Fannie are not for you.
“Enough,” he gritted out, but whether he meant the words for Grayson, or the phantom in his head, he couldn’t say.
“Fine. I’ll just add, if you’ve truly recovered from…before, I am more gratified by the knowledge than you can possibly comprehend.”
Gideon sipped his brandy. “I’m sure you are.”
Grayson frowned, but he did not ask Gideon to explain his comment. “My congratulations, Gideon. I wish you nothing but happiness.”
“Thank you.”
Grayson smoothed his hands over his close-fitting pantaloons. “The duke’s coming to town.” On the cusp of his sullen-toned announcement, he winced in apology and added, “Mother plans to join him, sorry to say. I know she can be difficult.”
Gideon shrugged. He had long understood that it couldn’t have been easy for her to raise her husband’s dead mistress’s son. But then, his obviously foreign descent would cut deep to a woman of her pedigree.
“I’ll never understand you, Gideon. You, who commands respect everywhere you go, who never backs down from a challenge, refuse to utter one unkind word against her.”
Gideon waved that off. “We are neither of us children, Grayson. Whatever happened in the past is irrelevant.”
“As you say.” Grayson sipped his brandy then set it on the side table with a decisive click.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.
The last shipment of rifles never made it to Spain.
We were swindled. By all accounts, Dirk headed the operation.
I know you considered him much more than a trusted employee, but there you have it. ”
Gideon swallowed more brandy.
“There’s also been talk in the Home Office of your involvement.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I’ve just come from the Home Office where they had me in for questioning. It seems likely, thanks to the timing of my marriage, and the duke, no doubt, no charges will be issued.”
“But that is wonderful, Gideon.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait. You said likely.”
“It is not yet a fait accompli. We’ll know soon enough.”
“By God, you have nerves of steel. All I have to say is, it’s a good thing the duke is coming to town. He’ll tear the Home Office apart to protect his precious firstborn.” Grayson slugged the remaining liquor in his glass.
“He would do the same for you,” Gideon said quietly.
“Would he?” It was clear he did not require an answer.
In any case, what could Gideon say to ease matters?
The duke cared for both his sons, but he treated Gideon differently than he did Grayson, and always had.
Gideon had more freedom to live as he chose, and was encouraged to exploit that freedom, whereas Grayson, as the duke’s heir, had constraints placed on him from birth.
Gideon had also long suspected the duchess’s coddling of Grayson annoyed their father and likely contributed to his more-than-occasional aloof manner toward his younger son.
For years Gideon took up Grayson’s cause with their father. That was no longer the case.
“Have you seen Brice?” Grayson asked.
“I have not.”
One corner of Grayson’s mouth hitched upward. “I merited a visit prior to him. I’m honored.”
“Of course. You’re my brother.”
He gave Gideon a searching look, then opened his mouth as if he meant to say something more.
Gideon waited, leaning back into the plush armchair and stretching out his legs before him. “How is Brice?” He finally asked when Grayson stayed silent. “I imagine he’s foaming at the mouth over the missing shipment and the lost proceeds.”
They both knew Brice’s spending habits tended to outpace his earnings and the allowance he received from his wife’s father, leaving him perpetually strapped for cash.
“Surprisingly, he was not overly concerned about the money, likely because he filed an insurance claim against the consortium’s loss.”
Gideon’s brows arched. “He certainly wasted no time.”
“Agreed. Mrs. Dove-Lyon and I both advocated letting you handle it when you returned, to no avail.”
Gideon gave an indeterminate grunt. “Interesting. Either he was in desperate financial straits, or he’d concluded I’d died. Why would he, though?” he wondered aloud.
“Your over-long absence comes to mind,” Grayson suggested.
“Maybe,” Gideon murmured.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon had also assumed he’d died. Else why promote him to Mrs. Barnes as a man almost certainly dead?
He contemplated the blonde-haired bluestocking who’d invaded his home. She’d moved into his bedchamber, the audacious chit, thanks to her preference for big beds. He wondered where she intended to sleep tonight.
His loins stirred instantly to life. Bloody hell. Perhaps he could make time for one more stop before heading home to call on Mrs. Emily Trent.
For some odd reason, the notion held no appeal, which made absolutely no sense. He had been long without the charms of a woman, and he and Emily had conducted a mutually beneficial, unexacting affair for the past several years. She was beautiful, sensual, and made no excessive demands.
“I say, Gideon, are you all right?”
“Fine. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re scowling, and because I asked you a question which you appear not to have heard.”
He hadn’t. “I was trying to work out a conundrum. I apologize. What did you ask?”
“I asked why you’d conclude Brice filing the insurance claim would indicate he’d thought you’d died? It’s far more likely he was simply short on cash, as usual, and seeking the quickest route to line his pockets.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“When we met to discuss matters, he never intimated he thought you’d perished,” Grayson added, eyeing Gideon askance.
“Who called the meeting?”
“Brice did.”
“Tell me about it.”
“As I said, Brice set it up, a few weeks after the shipment sailed. We gathered at the Lyon’s Den, like always, only Dirk was missing.”
Grayson went on, very earnest, now. “When I asked where he was, Brice explained he’d double-crossed us. According to his contacts at the Home Office, eye-witness testimony claimed to have seen our convoy—headed up by Captain Dirk—sailing into French waters under armed guard.”
“Did Brice say anything about me?”
“About you? How do you mean?”
“Dirk was my hand-picked man. Did he ever wonder if I was in collusion with the man?”
“Of course not, Gid. That would be tantamount to treason. Neither Brice nor I would ever suspect you, even when rumors of your involvement started circulating.”
“I wonder who started the rumors?”
“Just what I wanted to know.” His brother slammed a fist into his thigh. “I told Brice he better damned well make it clear to his contacts that not only is the very notion of you as a traitor absurd, you have nothing to gain from such an endeavor. It is not as if you need the money.”
Gideon nodded. “How did Brice respond to your suggestion?”
“He agreed, of course, and had every hope of clearing your name.”
He had not done a stellar job of that, Gideon reflected. “I appreciate your confidence in me, Grayson. Let us hope the Home Office draws the same conclusion as you.”