Chapter Twenty-Nine
By five o’clock that evening, all of the guests had departed Averly Abbey for their respective homes, with the exception of the Tyrells, Gideon, and Gwen.
After making a quick change into travel clothes, Gideon left Gwen to change out of her formal attire—her wedding gown, he supposed was a more apt description.
Much as the prospect of witnessing her undressing appealed to him, he did not want to find himself cornered by her, and forced to answer questions he’d rather put off.
Upon reaching the ground floor, one of the footmen delivered a missive to Gideon which had arrived for him via courier within the last hour. A quick glance told him it came from the runner he’d tasked with locating Dirk and his family.
Thumbing off the wafer that sealed the parchment, he headed for the den to await Gwen and read the short note. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered to himself. Gwen’s suggestion had born fruit.
“What do you have there?” Grayson asked from the open doorway and strode into the den.
One too many quips about Dirk having obviously fleeced all of them disinclined Gideon to be forthcoming about his search for the man. He refolded the sheet and tucked it into his waistcoat. “Business correspondence.”
“Ah,” Grayson said. He moved closer, hands linked behind his back. “Listen, Gid, I’ve been wanting to talk with you alone and haven’t had an opportunity ’til now.”
“Oh?”
His brother smiled at him, looking so much like the boy who’d trailed after him in their youth, that he couldn’t help the answering grin that curved his mouth.
“I wanted to thank you for what you said to our father. Evidently, he took your suggestion to heart. Come Monday, we’ll meet with his solicitor to discuss which properties I’m to manage henceforth.”
“I’m glad. You deserve a chance.”
Grayson opened his mouth as if he meant to go on, but the butler poked his graying head into the den.
“Pardon me, gentlemen, but Mrs. Devereux awaits you in the foyer, and the duke and duchess and the Tyrells have all convened in the courtyard. Mr. Tyrell asked if I’d let you know he wanted a word with Mr. Devereux before departing. ”
When Grayson, Gideon, and Gwen exited the abbey, they found both the Tyrells’ carriage and Gideon’s travel coach ready and waiting in the courtyard, luggage loaded, grooms at attention.
Brice’s father and wife had apparently already boarded their carriage, and Brice chatted amiably with Gideon’s father and Lady Ashwood.
“Too soon the weekend comes to an end,” the duke said.
“Thank you for an eventful and entertaining weekend, sir, my lady,” Gideon said.
The duchess inclined her head and extended her hand toward Grayson who went dutifully to her side. “Safe travels, Gideon, Mrs. Devereux, Brice.”
Gwen murmured her thanks as Brice bent over the duchess’s hand.
After he straightened, he eyed Gideon. “A moment?”
“Allow me to see your beautiful bride aboard your coach, Gideon,” the duke said, and took Gwen’s arm, leading her away.
After a speaking look from Brice, Grayson escorted the duchess inside, leaving Gideon and Brice alone.
“I spoke to Sir Phillip before he left. He assured me the investigation into your involvement in the stolen rifles would be closed summarily.”
“Excellent,” Gideon said.
“The insurance claim will be paid out soon as a result, no doubt.”
“No doubt,” Gideon agreed. As the two had already discussed both the investigation and insurance claim, he could only assume Brice had something else he wished to say.
“Say, you wouldn’t mind joining me in speeding the process along? Monday, late morning, heading en masse to Lloyd’s to make our case?”
“Why not?” He glanced toward the coach. The letter in his pocket had him anxious to leave.
“Excellent. Congratulations, Gideon, once again you’re fortune’s darling in all regards.”
“In all regards? I don’t take your meaning.”
“Why, evading the hangman, feathering your nest financially, and Cupid’s triumph over rank.”
Gideon arched a brow. “Evading the hangman? That presupposes I’m guilty.”
“You hardly have to be guilty to wind up on the wrong side of something, Gideon,” Brice said.
“Hmm. And the bit about overcoming my rank?”
“Touchy, touchy,” Brice said with affront, though color splashed over his cheek bones. “It’s not as if we aren’t two sides of the same coin, and I don’t deny my marriage was advantageous.”
“Fair enough.” Gideon glanced toward his travel coach, inside of which his wife waited. He ought not take offense when Brice spoke nothing less than the truth. “If that’s all?”
Brice scrubbed a hand over his jaw and lowered his voice. “Ah, actually, I have something I wish to ask you.”
“Oh?” He was growing impatient with Brice’s hedging. “If it’s another investment you wish to discuss, you’ll have to make an appointment.”
“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just…I understand from Mrs. Trent you’ve ended your alliance.”
“What of it?”
He pursed his lips and avarice gleamed in his dark eyes. “As it happens, I am in the market for a new mistress. She indicated she would not look amiss at an exclusive arrangement, but I wanted to make absolutely certain I wasn’t poaching in your territory.”
When Gideon had called on her recently to formally end things, she’d indicated someone of stature had recently approached her with a proposition.
Gideon had not asked who. He had not particularly cared, and he did not care now, other than feeling a degree of sympathy for Brice’s wife who clearly adored him.
But such was the way of the so-called polite world. “You have my blessing, not that you need it. I’ll caution you, however. The woman is not…how can I say this?” He eyed his boot tips, not wishing to offend. “She has expensive tastes.”
Brice sniffed. “I think I can afford to keep her in the style to which she has become accustomed.”
Gideon flashed his friend a grin. “Especially now that the insurance claim is liable to pay, eh?”
Brice huffed out a laugh. “Quite.”
Hearing the two men’s laughter, Gwen peeked out the carriage window. Gideon’s teeth gleamed white against his sun burnished skin and she felt her own mouth curve in an answering smile. He was so breathtaking. So vital.
Brice, she supposed, had the more classically handsome face and build. He boasted a thick head of chestnut hair. He was wiry and muscular, not overly thin, and stood neither tall nor short. He certainly dressed well and moved with a practiced elegance.
No matter. She did not find him at all attractive, especially not standing next to Gideon.
And still, there was something about the man that struck her as off.
He treated her with deference and solicitude, always.
Why did she not like him? She supposed she did not not like him.
But she did not trust him, and something niggled the back of her mind, now she thought of it, from earlier today.
Thanks to all the excitement, she’d nearly forgotten.
Outside the coach, Gideon spoke to the groom in his rumbling baritone.
A moment later, his large frame filled the opening as he climbed inside, briefly blocking most of the waning light.
Then he settled on the bench across from her, in a negligent sprawl, extending his arms over the back cushion and spreading out his long legs so they rested on either side of her skirts.
The coach shifted as the groom climbed atop the box. A moment later, it lurched into motion.
Gideon’s green-gold gaze drifted over her in an intimate perusal that caused gooseflesh to sprout over her limbs and warmth to pool in her belly in a now-familiar sensation.
Gwen glanced out the small windowpane, mostly to distract herself from Gideon’s unreasonable appeal. Now that she knew the wonder of being made love to by him, it seemed she could not look at him without craving more of the heady sensations he called forth from her body with such effortless skill.
Thoughts of his so-called acclaim amongst the women of the ton now made terrible sense.
Sudden, unreasonable jealousy flooded her, imagining women fawning over him, and him returning someone’s interest. She chided herself with a stern admonition.
It made no sense for her to harbor jealously for women he had known prior to her.
But what about women he would know in future?
“Gwen, are you quite all right?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?” She swallowed, hard, and strove for a neutral expression.
He studied her, eyes narrowed. “You appear quite tense.”
She sniffed. She could hardly confess where her thoughts had gone. Not without sounding like a silly goose. “I was wondering about your friendship with Mr. Tyrell.”
“Oh? What about it?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Earlier, when we were at the river, I recalled the time when you fell in and he went in after you.”
He snorted. “You recalled reading my personal journal entry about the time I fell in and he went in after me.”
She inclined her head, not wishing to dignify his taunt with an answer.
“I have only a vague recollection of the event as I knocked my head on the way down and would surely have drowned if not for Brice—and Grayson, of course. Grayson was the best swimmer, of all of us.”
“You wrote how you felt like something knocked you in the head, but Brice said you’d fainted and had more likely hit your head on the way down.”
“What of it?”
“Do you often faint?” she asked.
“No never. Why?”
“But you did that day. Why do you suppose that is?”
“I have no idea,” Gideon answered. “It was a very long time ago. What are you getting at?”
She glanced out the window trying to imagine the day. “You were there, writing in your journal? And Brice was fishing in the shallows?”
“Yes. As I recall, Fannie had arrived the previous week and I believe he was hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He always hung about more when she was in residence.”
“And did he? Catch a glimpse.”
“She came out looking for me, I believe. Yes—she brought me lunch.” He laughed. “Brice raised a stink when he realized she’d brought nothing for him. She claimed not to have known he was there. She was probably lying. She enjoyed toying with people.”
Gwen nodded. “Then she left? And you fainted?”
“I suppose. I honestly don’t recall.”
“The thing is, you very definitely wrote you felt something had hit you in the head. Only Brice’s insistence you’d fainted convinced you otherwise.”
“Which is no doubt what happened,” Gideon said.
“Right. Then, he saved you.”
“He and Grayson pulled me from the drink. He probably couldn’t have managed without my brother’s help. I was unconscious and the undertow there is quite vicious especially when the river is high.”
“But what if you didn’t faint?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Then, I suppose something fell from the skies to knock me out?”
“I’m serious, Gideon. What if Brice hit you and then you fell?” Gwen asked.
“And then came in after me? And why on earth would he have hit me?”
She scowled. “I don’t know. I’m sure it all happened as you said. You fainted, and Grayson happened to come along in the nick of time to assist Brice in saving you.” She wasn’t sure why she was second guessing the event. No harm had come to Gideon, after all.
Something about the way Brice had described the event today, however, had seemed to contradict Gideon’s written exposition. He hadn’t mentioned Gideon having a fainting spell. He’d said the escarpment eroded from under him. Perhaps he had simply forgotten the events of so long ago.
“You don’t like him,” Gideon stated, his eyes going icy. “Did he say something untoward to you? I swear, if he did—”
“He didn’t—and I don’t dislike him,” she rushed to say. “It’s just…I don’t trust him.”
He relaxed visibly. “Any reason in particular?”
“I suppose because I do not like the way he treats Lady Mary.”
Something flickered in Gideon’s expression.
“What is it?” she asked.
His eyes widened in a too-innocent look. “I have no notion what you mean.”
“Hmm.”
“Listen, Gwen, as it happens I have something to discuss with you.”
“Oh?”
“I received a missive from the runner I hired,” he said.
“What? When?”
“Today, just before we departed.”
Exasperation filled her. “Well, why on earth did you not say so?”
He laughed and he looked so unbearably handsome, for a moment she could barely draw breath.
“Well? What did he say?” she demanded.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Thanks to your suggestion, Mrs. Kennedy agreed to speak with me. However, she is in Portsmouth, not Wapping, apparently in hiding. The runner expressed some concern she might change her mind about meeting with me, and urged me to make haste in getting to her. Thus, I shall deliver you to London and then make my way there tonight.”
“Sir, you shall do no such thing.” She sent him her most brilliant smile. “We must go there at once. I’m certain I can be of assistance in questioning her.”