Chapter Thirty-Eight
Brice’s name hung in the air like a noxious stench.
He had told the duchess Grayson compromised Fannie, when he never had, and afterward, had stepped in to help her deal with the aftermath of the loss of the babe she assumed was her grandchild. Why do any of it?
The answer was obvious. Brice had compromised Fannie and gotten her with child and, according to a dying woman’s last words, he’d damned well known. He said…let Gideon raise my bastard. Tell him, it was a boy.
“Grayson, enlighten me. That summer, before I returned, I’m told you escorted Fannie around town—in the company of Brice and Lady Mary. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Grayson answered. “What are you thinking?”
“If memory serves, Brice and Lady Mary became engaged shortly after I wed Fannie.”
“Correct again.”
“Did you notice anything odd about Brice and Fannie that summer?”
Grayson’s brows arched. “Now that you mention it, yes. A familiarity sprang up between them that went beyond the kinship that had existed between them since we were all kids running around Averly Abbey.” A corner of his mouth quirked upward.
“He had a terrible crush on Fannie, then. Did you know that?”
Gideon shook his head. “He never said anything to me.”
“Of course not,” Grayson said. “He was always competing with you, and she was so clearly besotted with you that it drove him mad.” He aimed a cold smile at his mother. “You remember, Mother? How she followed Gideon around so much you lobbied Father to send him to India?”
She stiffened. “She developed a taste for the exotic, which his proximity only served to fuel.”
“Exotic. I have always detested that label. Kindly never use it in my presence again.” Grayson shifted his attention back to Gideon.
“Brice admitted he fancied her to me, the younger brother whom he discounted. In fact, the day you went into the river—when he and I saved you—I saw her coming up the path as I headed down to meet you. She was laughing with her maid, saying how she’d brought you lunch and not him.
I got the sense she’d done it on purpose—to vex him.
She was always like that. Not a care for anyone but herself. ”
“How could he?” the duchess intoned, her hands fisted at her sides. “He let me think she carried my grandchild.” She turned her head abruptly toward Grayson. “Your baby, Grayson. All this time I thought…” She shook her head. “And every time I looked at Gideon, I saw her and your dead baby.”
Her eyes gleamed with a bitter fervor. “Everything changed the day your father came home with Gideon, don’t you see, Grayson? If not for him, you would have had all of your father’s love. If not for him, the temptation of seeing him, Fannie would never have started down the path to ruin.”
“Are you hearing yourself?” Grayson demanded. “Gideon came to you—us—a helpless toddler. He had to live with your forbidding eyes on him every minute. Of course our father doted on him. If not for father’s love, who would have cared for him? Not you, that’s for certain.
“As for Fannie, she was always up to no good, you just refused to see it.” He laughed a humorless laugh.
“Just as I could do no wrong, and Gideon could do no right. And what does Brice have to do with any of this? Who was he but the son of the local magistrate, a hanger-on, that he should have earned your trust over that of your own stepson?”
She sniffed. “I had to look out for my son. Brice and I had an arrangement.”
The hair on Gideon’s nape stirred.
She went on. “I needed someone to keep an eye on Gideon, to make sure he didn’t overstep. Brice was happy to do my bidding—for a small price.”
Grayson’s face went devoid of color. He met Gideon’s eyes. “I never knew. I swear to you.”
Gideon nodded. After all these years, hearing how much the duchess reviled him confirmed what he’d always known, inside, but had discounted.
Perhaps because, on some level, he had always understood how hard it would have been for her to have him underfoot, the evidence of her husband’s love for not only another woman, but a woman of mixed race—like him.
As a result, he had tried to please her in the hopes one day she would forgive him for intruding on her life. He had done everything in his power to behave as she asked, to never embarrass his father or Grayson or her.
A part of him, he realized, perhaps for the first time, believed he did not merit her abiding affection, and that he must earn his place. Indeed, with every liaison he entered, he reinforced the belief he was only as good as what he could do for someone else.
Then came Gwen, and he’d tried to replicate the pattern. But she refused to see him as less than, a man only good for what he could offer her in money, sex, and powerful connection.
With an effort of will, he set aside the tumultuous revelations. Later, he would share all of this with Gwen. But first, he must sort out the past.
“So Brice came to you and told you Fannie had seduced Grayson and that he did not wish to accept responsibility, and then what? Whose idea was it I should be the stand-in?”
She lowered her eyes to her hands, clenched in her lap. “Brice said, You could make Grayson do the right thing. But you do have another you can call on, one who owes you a great debt.”
“Ah, yes. Exactly how you put it to me at the time. I owed a debt, and by marrying her, I could repay it.”
Grayson stormed to the terrace doors, turning his back on the room, almost as if he could not bear to face what she’d done.
Gideon went on. “When the child you thought was Grayson’s died, you made another arrangement with Brice, did you not?”
She met Gideon’s eyes, her expression deeply wary. “I merely told him that every time I looked at you, I lost my grandchild all over again. I said, if only there were some way to draw you away from England…”
“Mother,” Grayson bemoaned, turning to look at her with sorrow-filled eyes.
“Brice came up with the idea to have your shipments appear shorted—only appear. He said he knew someone who could make that happen.”
The customs official, of course. The one who was now dead thanks to Gideon mentioning his intention to question the man.
Suddenly, everything clicked into place.
Brice had seized the opportunity presented through Gideon’s manufactured absence, to commit treason and make the score of his lifetime.
Even better, was his plan to use Dirk to do his dirty work and set up Gideon to take the fall, even leaking rumors attesting to Gideon’s guilt.
“Did you know about the treason he committed and laid at my feet? That certainly would have worked to keep me away if not for my marriage. Bravo, madam.”
“Dear God, Gideon. You think Brice sold those rifles to the French? Mother, how could you lower yourself to commit such evil?”
She gazed at Grayson, wide-eyed. “I knew nothing of treason, I swear it. I admit, when your father shared the rumor concerning Gideon’s supposed involvement, I wondered if Brice could have possibly orchestrated such a heinous act…
but I thought, no, he would not do such a thing.
I knew, of course, you would never commit treason, Gideon.
You are far too noble. A trait of your father’s you and Grayson both inherited. ”
“At least you give him credit there, Mother,” Grayson muttered.
She met Gideon’s eye for the first time.
“I would never embroil my family in such a dastardly scheme, never betray my country like that. But I admit I never outright asked Brice if he was involved. I was caught, you see. Whether or not he had sold those rifles to the French and framed you, what could I do about it after seeking his help in drawing you away?”
“And yet, you doubled down, did you not?” Gideon asked, his voice lethally soft. “When I returned, despite your best efforts, you demanded Brice wreck my wife’s chance to own her publishing house. I suppose you hoped to drive both of us from England?”
She shook her head in vehement denial. “I never suggested such a thing. He mentioned something to me, only once, about seeing to the problem of your return. But I saw the way your father lit up at the news of your homecoming. I witnessed your brother’s joy at having his elder brother back.
And then you stood up to Ashwood on Grayson’s behalf, and I thought, enough.
So I told Brice to let sleeping dogs lie.
I can only assume he did not heed my words, perhaps in a misguided effort to protect me. ”
“Protect you?” Grayson scoffed. “Bah. He was protecting himself all along. Remember? Fannie’s child was not mine. One guess who the father was.”
Her face went utterly blank as she digested Grayson’s words and, evidently agreed with his reasoning.
Grayson looked at Gideon. “We cannot let this stand—any of it. Brice must pay for what he’s done, the lying, treasonous, greedy bastard.
He’ll hang if I have anything to say about it.
” He directed his next words to his mother.
“And I do not care if nailing him embroils all of us neck-deep in scandal. Now kindly take yourself off, Mother. I wish to speak with Gideon in private.”
She rose, a bit unsteadily, and eyed Gideon. “You understand, do you not? Why I did what I did?”
“Enough,” Grayson shouted, loud enough to blow the books off the shelves. “Gideon, would you ever have treated a child in your home, Fannie’s child, for instance, as she did you?”
Gideon considered evading the answer for his stepmother’s sake, then decided he’d done enough of that for a lifetime. He shook his head.
“You never deserved her disdain. Tell him, Mother. Be honest with yourself for once.”
She gave Gideon a sad little smile. “Perhaps not. But I did the best I could.”
Damn his own eyes. He felt for the woman. She had done the best she could. “I know.”
A weight lifted off Gideon’s shoulders, one he had carried so long he had not realized its existence until its absence.
He had not deserved her disdain. He was not merely a plaything for the women of the ton, and never had been regardless of who thought so. More importantly, it did not matter what anyone thought of him—save for his father, his brother, and most importantly of all, Gwen, the woman he loved.
For he did love her, beyond reason, beyond measure.
He wished he had told her before he left, half-cocked, earlier. He would confess all when he returned home—and beg her forgiveness. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to go to her.
No, it was more than that. He needed to, with an unfathomable urgency. He tried to reason with himself. It was not as if she meant to begin her world tour tonight.
“You truly are your father’s son, Gideon. Your wife, Gwen, is lucky to have such a man at her side. You may not believe this after everything, but I am sorry.” She glanced between Grayson and Gideon, then, head held high, quit the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Grayson stared at the closed door. “I do not believe I have ever heard those words come from her mouth. I could use a drink while we discuss what’s next. You?”
“Yes,” Gideon said. “Never more so. Unfortunately, I must decline.”
“Oh.” Grayson’s disappointment was palpable. “You do mean to include me in the operation?”
He sent his brother a reassuring grin. “Of course. You, and our father. We shall present everything we know to the Home Office. Tomorrow will suffice. Tonight I must see to something of even greater importance.”
Grayson looked taken aback. “What could that be?”
“My wife. It seems she loves me.”
Gwen stared out her bedchamber window to the street below. The joy that had filled her after reading his journal had given way to a bone-deep fear. Gideon had been gone for hours now, and a strong sense that something had gone very wrong had her by the throat.
He said he left to visit one of the stakeholders responsible for her troubles, but how long could it take to deal with a stodgy old curmudgeon? Surely he would have dispatched with that hours ago.
The sound of carriage wheels coming near had her leaning half-out the window like a fishwife.
A black-lacquered carriage pulled by a set of stately, matching greys halted on the curb before the townhome.
As she watched, a young boy, an urchin by the looks of him, dropped off the rear platform and trotted toward the alley. What the devil?
Whose carriage was this? Gideon’s brother’s, perhaps? An acquaintance of Gideon’s? Whosever it was, the occupant may have brought word of Gideon. She raced to her chamber door and down the stairs intending to summon a footman to investigate.
Upon reaching the base of the stairs, however, a footman coming from the back of the manse hurried toward her.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but a young boy just delivered this note for you.” He handed her a folded scrap of foolscap.
She unfolded it and read. Madam wife, kindly meet me in the carriage outside. I have a surprise for you —G
A surprise? In a stranger’s carriage? No matter. Relief at his return had her hastening out the front door. Hurrying down the walkway, she noted the groomsman standing beside the vehicle. The carriage step had been placed and the door left open. Inside the carriage cab, all was darkness.
The first whisper of wrongness swept through her, and she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at the manse. Perhaps she ought to bring a servant with her.
A firm hand gripped her arm. Startled, she shifted her gaze forward as the groom, she now saw, began dragging her toward the waiting carriage. “Beg pardon, ma’am, but my master says he wishes to speak with ye’.”
“Take your hands off me at once,” she demanded, trying to dig in her slippers. The soft leather made no purchase on the stone path.
She drew in a breath to scream for help and found a meaty hand clamped over her mouth. She bit into his palm.
The groom yelped. In the next instant, he wrapped his strong hands around her waist, lifted her in the air, and shoved her into the pitch-dark cab, where she did scream, but she feared the interior cushions and drapes muffled the sound.
She twisted around to leap from the carriage as the door closed in her face.
Fear exploded through her. She groped blindly for the handle, then heard the distinct cock of a pistol. Her mouth went dry.
“Kindly do sit down, Mrs. Devereux. I only wish to have a brief chat, and after all, Gideon will be joining us at our destination.”
She knew that voice. Turning her head, she squinted to peer through the darkness at the seated man.
The carriage jostled as the driver, presumably, climbed atop his perch. A moment later, the wheels bit into the cobblestones and the vehicle lurched into motion, tossing her ignominiously onto the empty bench.
“What is the meaning of this?” She righted herself as an oil lamp flared to life, revealing her captor, Mr. Brice Tyrell.
“A surprise, as my note indicated. Are you not surprised?”