Chapter Thirteen
James was going through the newly arrived mail the following morning when Fiona burst into his study with all the fury of a Horseman of the Apocalypse. “Why did you not tell me that you saw Andrew Clement yesterday?”
“Good morning, Your Grace,” he said wryly, for his neighbor, despite having married Robert Durham, the current Duke of Durham, one of the most powerful titles in England, had acquired none of the aloofness or decorum one would expect of a duchess.
He supposed this was why everyone adored her, even if she was annoyingly meddlesome and had diabolically plotted to match him with Gwendolyn from the start.
She placed her hands on his desk and frowned at him. “Do not ‘good morning’ me, Milbury. We all had supper together last night, and neither you nor Gwendolyn ever said a word about it.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Then how did you find out?”
She cleared her throat. “I have my sources.”
“I’ll bet you do,” he said with a resigned sigh, then frowned back at her. “I did not speak of him because I never saw him.”
“You didn’t?” She appeared surprised. “How could you not? That café is small, and you could not have missed him seated there.”
“Precisely.”
“What do you mean?”
James sighed again because he was in no humor to relive that disappointing moment. “I did not see him because he wasn’t there.”
She gasped. “Are you suggesting Gwendolyn made him up?”
“He wasn’t there, Fiona. That is all I am saying. What am I supposed to think?”
She frowned at him again. “She isn’t Cordelia.”
Hearing his sister’s name was like nails across a chalkboard. “Good grief, I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” But he shifted uncomfortably because he might have been treating Gwendolyn as though she were as delusional as his poor sister.
Worse, he had asked her to marry him and yet neglected to be honest with her about Cordelia.
She deserved to know the truth about his sister before she willingly accepted to marry him.
Well, her acceptance of his marriage proposal was in serious doubt because of Andrew Clement’s supposed reappearance.
Whether his return was a fabrication in her mind or whether he had truly returned was irrelevant, because either way, that bounder still exerted control over Gwendolyn’s heart.
“You must believe her, Milbury. If Gwendolyn said she saw him, then he must have been there. We’ll need to do a little investigating to get to the bottom of this.”
James rose to come around to the front of his desk. “We?” He already had his reliable Bow Street man, Homer Barrow, digging into Clement’s past in London and did not need his stubborn neighbor starting a new investigation here in Brighton.
Fiona cleared her throat again. “Well, you ought to be the one to investigate. And you need to bring Gwendolyn along with you. She needs to know that you believe her.”
“I believe that she sincerely thinks she saw him. But I do not believe she actually did see him.”
“So, that’s it? You’re going to let the matter drop?”
“What am I supposed to do? Walk through the streets of Brighton shouting his name?”
“Yes, if that is what it takes.”
“Be serious, Fiona.”
She shook her head. “Go back to that café and press the proprietor for information. You cannot let her do this alone. She is not going to give up. I know she wants your help. In fact, she needs it quite badly, because that bounder is likely to rip her heart to pieces and you need to be there to protect her.”
He rubbed a hand across the nape of his neck. “I’ll kill him if he dares break her heart.”
“But you won’t know what he’s doing to her unless you are there by her side. Knowing Gwen, she will never let on about how badly she is feeling.”
“Is that so?”
Fiona frowned at him. “You know it is so. She holds all her feelings inside and never lets out the hurt, so it eats away at her insides. Not that you would notice or care. I’m sure she cried herself to sleep last night.”
“Fiona, stop. I care for her very much, just as you expected I would when you conceived of this scheme of yours to find a perfect match for me. You could have just told me what you intended instead of having me go through the farce of hiring Gwendolyn as my matchmaker.”
Fiona slumped into one of the leather chairs opposite his desk. “You both would have resisted had I simply introduced you and said to go get married because you are perfect for each other and obviously going to fall in love.”
“Blessed saints, do you always interfere in other people’s lives? I suppose you do this to Durham, too. He must want to throttle you daily.”
“He adores me, as you well know. But we are getting off the point.”
“Which is?”
“You have to believe Gwendolyn and investigate this Andrew sighting with her. I would do it, but I have my son and husband keeping me busy. I cannot take off for Brighton at the drop of a hat.”
“So I must do it?”
“Yes, because you love her and you are going to lose her if you do not get off your prideful arse and show her that you trust her and are willing to fight for her.”
He crossed his arms over his chest as he met Fiona’s stubborn gaze.
She was right. In all the time he’d known Gwendolyn, she had been nothing but sincere, intelligent, and honest in her outlook.
Perhaps he did not believe she had seen Andrew Clement, but it must have been someone who resembled him closely.
More important, it was someone who had entered Marchand’s establishment and then disappeared into a back room instead of walking into the dining area.
Why had Marchand lied about that?
James gave a curt nod. “We’ll be heading to Brighton tomorrow to pick up the house party invitations. I’ll take her back to the Crab & Cod and press the proprietor for answers.”
Fiona cast him a triumphant smile. “That’s more like it.”
He wasn’t certain it was the wisest idea. What if there was something illegal going on? By returning to ask questions, he might be placing Gwendolyn’s life, and his own, in danger. Yet if he refused to do anything, Gwendolyn would go off to investigate on her own.
Since Fiona declined his invitation to stay and have lunch with them, he escorted her to her rig and assisted her into the passenger seat, relieved she had one of her grooms driving her around instead of traipsing about on her own.
Even though they were neighbors and it was but a short ride over, she was a wife and mother now, and needed to exercise care.
Once her rig had disappeared down the drive, he decided to go in search of Gwendolyn and his sons. He knew the lads had been disappointed when he made up that excuse about needing to work.
Well, he did have a pile of work, but nothing that could not wait a few days to address.
One of his gardeners pointed him in the right direction. “I saw them crossing the deer park and heading into the woods a few minutes ago, m’lord.”
“Thank you.”
He strode off after them. It wasn’t long before he heard laughter and animated chatter.
He smiled, liking that the three of them were having a good time. Gwendolyn had a gentle and engaging manner with his sons, and they always felt her sincere affection for them. That she remained kind to his boys even after he had dismissed her remarks about Clement spoke volumes of her character.
This made him feel even more wretched.
The laughter stopped the moment they all noticed him. Gwendolyn turned to stare at him, her gaze wary. So did his boys.
“Papa,” Jordan said cautiously, “what are you doing here?”
“Glad to know I am wanted,” James responded with sarcasm. “I realized it was more important to enjoy the day with you than work through the piles of business matters on my desk that turned out not to be pressing.”
“I can leave you to explore with Robert and Jordan,” Gwendolyn said, making him ache because she looked so hurt and vulnerable.
“No, Gwen. Stay with us. I think my sons like having you around more than me.” Not that he would blame them, since he was the one who had behaved abominably yesterday.
“No, Papa. We like you too,” his youngest said earnestly. “But Gwendolyn knows so much more than you do about the flora and fauna of the area. She makes the outing fun for us.”
“Yes,” Jordan said. “We always enjoy having her around.”
“Flora and fauna?” James wanted to laugh, for she was giving his sons a science lesson and they were not complaining. Did they even realize this was what she was doing?
“She’s pointing out all the poisonous plants,” Jordan added. “Did you know we had so many growing in these woods and along the hedges near the water?”
“No, I did not. Care to enlighten me?”
Gwendolyn was carrying a small sack and now withdrew a book from it.
“I often attend lectures at the Royal Society, and the various London museums. The local botanical gardens, too. Plants and flowers have always fascinated me, especially how some of them are so beautiful and yet so deadly. Hopefully, your dogs are careful and know better than to eat them.”
James nodded. “I’m sure they do. Our hounds are always sniffing around the area and must have learned from experience which plants to avoid. What have you found so far?”
“Over here, Papa,” Robert said, pointing to some underbrush. “That’s monkshood. And do you see those yew trees? Don’t touch any of them! There’s sap on the bark, and it is dangerous.”
“Thank you, son.”
“My pleasure, Papa. The sap of the purple hogweed is also dangerous. You mustn’t put your hands to your eyes, mouth, or nose once you touch them, or they will burn and make you ill. In fact, you mustn’t touch them because that alone is dangerous and will give you a burning rash all over your skin.”
“And don’t eat any of the leaves,” Jordan warned.
“I hadn’t planned on it,” James assured him.
“Fortunately, you have no laburnum trees on your grounds,” Gwendolyn remarked, her eyes big and bright beneath her sun hat. She had left her hair down so that it fell to her waist and was tied back in a plain ribbon. Her gown was a sturdy brown muslin and she wore brown walking boots to match.
She looked so beautiful.