The Earl Claims His Wife (22 page)

While Gillian saw to the house, Brian made his rounds again of White’s and the War Office. He renewed more acquaintances and pressed his desire for a position on Liverpool’s staff.

Knowing now that his own father had been gossiping about him, he made a point of being everything good a gentleman and officer should be.

Later, he returned home to find the silver salver by the front door full of calling cards and invitations.

Brian discovered that a married man received different invitations than a single one did.

Before, when Gillian wasn’t around and few seemed aware of her existence, he’d been invited to balls.

Now, the invitations were for dinner parties and more private affairs. That was good. He was anxious for all of London to meet the beautiful woman he’d married. In that way, he’d stake his claim.

Handing his hat and coat to the new maid, he walked into the sitting room and called out his wife’s name. Kate was the one who answered him. She held Anthony as she came down the stairs. As always, the baby reached for Brian who took him up in his arms.

“Lady Wright isn’t here, my lord,” Kate said. “She is out making calls. The house has been so busy with visitors coming and going and then she must respond. It makes me dizzy to think about it. She should be back shortly. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’m fine,” Brian said. “Let me keep Anthony for a bit.”

“Yes, my lord,” Kate said. “I’ll be up in the nursery tending to a few things. Call me when you wish me to take him back.”

Brian nodded and she left.

“Come on, my fine man,” he said to Anthony, whose face at the moment did resemble that of an old man beneath his head full of black, stick straight hair. “Let me write down a few of my thoughts from this afternoon.” He spread a blanket on the floor before the hearth the way he’d seen Gillian do and placed the baby on his belly in the middle.

Anthony immediately lifted his head and looked around, his bright eyes a far cry from the defeated child of several weeks ago.

“When you do that, you remind me of a turtle,” Brian said to his son. Anthony grinned at him and Brian was surprised to see a little white tooth. He’d not noticed it before.

“Every day you change,” Brian said in admiration and crossed to the desk for writing paper.

It was a testimony to how intensely he and Gillian had been involved with each other that Brian had actually forgotten about the letter she’d written to Ramigio—until he pulled out the desk drawer and saw it missing.

He studied that empty space and thought about the woman who had slept so contentedly and peacefully in his arms that morning.

Perhaps she had torn it up. Certainly she wouldn’t have mailed it.

Brian wanted to trust her. He told himself he did.

Still, a short while later when Kate came to take the baby, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Did Lady Wright post that letter? The one to Huntleigh.”

God, he hated himself for being so weak as to ask.

“To Huntleigh, my lord? Yes, she posted one a few days ago. I delivered it to the mail myself.”

“Thank you,” Brian said, dismissing her.

She bobbed a quick curtsey and went upstairs to feed Anthony.

Jealousy was an ugly emotion. It could run through a man with more heat and speed than the sharpest blade.

Brian stood as if rooted to the floor. He’d wanted to believe that Gillian was falling in love with him.

The truth was, his wife knew her own heart and the Spaniard had won it.

And what did Brian have left?

He began to move, pacing the perimeter of the room, turning, pacing it again. Jealousy built to anger.

He’d never wanted anything in his life more than he had Gillian. She was his wife. She was his—

He stopped. What had she said to him when he’d first gone to Huntleigh for her? That she wasn’t a possession?

Brian had gone to Huntleigh to make her honor her wedding vows to him. He’d won. She’d done so…and yet, it wasn’t enough. He wanted her heart, free of any doubts. Obligation was no longer an acceptable reason for her to be with him. He wanted every last bit of her…and if he couldn’t have it, then he’d rather she return to her Spaniard.

The realization rocked him back a step.

Was this love?

He’d thought himself in love with Gillian, but that “love” had too much pride to let him set her free.

And yet now, now he wanted what she wanted. Her happiness might mean more to him than his pride.

But he couldn’t let her go. He didn’t want to lose her.

Nor was he one to grovel.

The room’s four walls seemed to close in on him. He was a man. If he set Gillian free to go to the Spaniard, what would that mean for him and the rest of his life? He’d be alone. There would be other women—but none of them would be Gillian. None of them would possess her resourcefulness, her resiliency, her ability to make him listen to what he didn’t want to hear.

And she was to return shortly and he’d have to face her, knowing she’d sent the letter.

Brian wasn’t certain he was in the mood to smile and pretend everything was all right. Gillian was obviously much better at that than he was.

The anger returned.

Going out into the hall, he took his coat from its peg, grabbed his hat, and went out the door. It would be best he didn’t see Gillian right this moment.

His wife was going to leave him. He told himself he would see his way through this. He’d handle it.

Distance was the best solution. He’d keep his distance and she’d never know how much he cared.

With that thought in mind, he headed to White’s. There, he could hide in the company of men, drink himself into forgetting her, and no one would know he’d lost his heart to his wife.

Gillian hadn’t meant to be gone from the house this long, especially since she had Alice with her.

They’d left Ruby minding the baking Alice had done for dinner.

She had finally paid a call of introduction to Lady Liverpool who was everything kind and generous.

Yes, her husband had mentioned Lord and Lady Wright.

The next step would be to send the invitations to dinner. She and Brian had been discussing who the other members of the dinner party would be. Tonight, over dinner, they’d have to reach a decision.

However, as she was riding home in the hack, she saw her cousin Holburn and his duchess Fiona walking down Oxford Street, shopping. She’d called for the driver to stop and what followed was a joyous reunion.

“I didn’t know you were coming to town,” Gillian said.

“We came to find you,” Holburn answered. “I sent a messenger to Atherton’s house, but he returned to say you weren’t there.”

“Wright and his father have had a severe falling out, which is fine with me. I prefer my own roof and my own servants,” Gillian said.

“With Wright?” Holburn asked in disbelief.

Gillian laughed. “Yes. With Wright.” She couldn’t help but let her voice soften on his name.

“Didn’t you leave him?” Holburn questioned in disbelief. “You sound happy.”

“I am,” Gillian admitted. Holburn frowned his confusion, but Fiona understood.

“Things are good between you?” Fiona asked in her lovely, lilting Scot’s accent.

Gillian let all her happiness show. “He is the most wonderful, kind man in the world.”

Fiona took her hands. “I am so pleased for you.”

Before Gillian could answer her, Holburn said, “You left him, then you didn’t want to go with him, and now you are happy with him?”

Gillian laughed. “I know, I know. I sound as if I’m the most fickle woman in the world. He’s given up his mistress. It turns out he hasn’t seen her in years. We’ve been doing so well and we have this wonderful child, Anthony—”

“You have a child?” Holburn interrupted. “I know you are a wizard at managing a household, Gillian, but you’ve only been gone from Huntleigh for a little under a month. Not even you can hatch a chick that fast.”

“Not my child,” Gillian said, correcting herself.

“Wright’s child?” Fiona asked, sounding as confused as her husband.

“No, he’s not.” Quickly Gillian gave them a bit of Anthony’s history. She trusted Holburn and Fiona with the truth. It helped that they didn’t question the decision to keep Anthony.

“And so you have become a married couple and parents,” Fiona said.

“Yes,” Gillian answered, “and we’ve never been happier. Wright is wonderful. He’s not as I had thought him. I don’t know if the war has changed him or age or what—it doesn’t matter. He is exactly what I want in a husband.”

“What of Andres?” Holburn asked.

Gillian sobered. “I wrote him a letter. I tried to explain. Wright is my husband. I pray he will understand.”

Fiona placed her hand on Gillian’s arm. “He will be upset.”

“But he is a man. He’ll shoulder it,” Holburn assured her.

“Will you talk to him for me?” Gillian asked. “Please tell him how sorry I am.”

Her cousin shook his head. “No matter what you say, it will not be good news for Andres. He fell at your feet the moment he set eyes on you. Still, you must be honest.”

“That’s how I felt,” Gillian said quietly. “And yet, I don’t want him hurt. I thought it best to tell him as soon as possible.”

Fiona was the one to change the subject. “When will I have the opportunity to meet this paragon amongst husbands?”

“This evening, if you wish. Do you have plans for dinner?”

“We do not,” Holburn said.

“Then join us. You will meet Anthony and see how deliriously happy I am.”

“Deliriously?” Holburn teased.

“Yes,” Gillian stated. “And you can tell me how your trip to Scotland was.”

“That would be lovely,” Fiona answered, accepting the invitation.

Gillian gave them her address and they agreed to meet at eight. She climbed back in the hack, anxious to go home and tell Brian of her afternoon’s adventures.

However, as the hack drove her to her doorstep, she noticed a blue enamel cabriolet with red wheels and yellow spokes waiting a few doors down. It was such a pretty vehicle it attracted attention, especially in this genteel but modest neighborhood.

Alice hurried to her kitchen while Gillian paid the driver. “Thank you,” she said to the hack driver, who tipped his hat to her and climbed back in his box.

Gillian was readying to go into the house when the cabriolet started slowly rolling toward her. She was mildly surprised since she’d not seen anyone climb in it. The driver acted as if he’d been waiting for her arrival.

She doubted if she knew the vehicle’s occupant. She’d not made the acquaintance of any of the neighbors on the street. Her life had been too busy taking care of Anthony.

However, as the cabriolet drove by, a window curtain was pulled back. Jess smiled at her. It wasn’t just a friendly smile. Jess smiled as if she knew something Gillian would not like.

Gillian turned, giving the woman her back.

She went into the house, moving down the hall toward the back room Brian often used as a study at this hour of the day to go over papers and correspondence in private.

He wasn’t there.

She went up to the bedroom. No Brian.

Kate was in the nursery with Anthony. Picking the baby up and giving him a kiss on his forehead, Gillian asked Kate, “Have you seen Lord Wright?”

“Earlier, my lady. He was in the sitting room and then I believe he left.”

How odd that Brian would leave without telling anyone where he was going.

She didn’t worry about it overmuch. She had to prepare for dinner guests.

However, by eight that evening, Brian still hadn’t made an appearance. It was embarrassing to admit to Fiona and Holburn that she didn’t know where her husband was. They sipped on drinks for an hour, making a fuss over the baby and catching up on news, and then Gillian had no choice but to serve dinner lest it be ruined.

Seeing how upset she was, Holburn asked, “Do you want me to send one of my men around town in search for him?”

“No, don’t do that,” Gillian said quickly but Fiona overrode her.

“What if he is in trouble? Or has had an accident? Yesterday, we saw a coach that had slid on ice and gone off the road. It was terrible.”

“He didn’t take a coach,” Gillian said. “We are still setting up our household and have been hiring hacks to take us around town.” But Fiona’s words did make her think of footpads and others who would hit a man over the head and rob him of his purse. Brian could take care of himself but what if he was in trouble. “Very well,” she said to Holburn. “I appreciate your kind offer and will take advantage of it.”

One of the sometimes convenient things about being a duke was having a host of servants at hand.

Holburn sent several of his in search of word of Brian.

An hour later, when dinner was finished, the man returned and spoke to Holburn out in the foyer.

“Well?” Fiona demanded when her husband returned to the room.

“He found Wright,” Holburn said.

“Where is he?” Gillian asked. Her first thought, her fear was that he was with Jess.

“White’s. He’s in a game and doesn’t want to leave.”

“In a game?” Gillian repeated.

“Faro.”

“Brian is gambling?” Gillian questioned. “He has never shown signs that gaming held an appeal for him.”

“He was in the military,” Holburn said with a shrug. “If that isn’t taking a risk, I don’t know what is.

Most military men of my acquaintance are hardened gamesters.”

Gillian shook her head. “Did the servant tell him we’d sent for him?”

Holburn hesitated. He glanced over at his wife and then pursed his lips.

“Go on,” Gillian said. “If there is more, I wish to hear it.”

“My man told him that you were concerned. He did it discreetly, of course.”

“And my husband answered?” Gillian prodded, determined to hear all.”

“That he was happy at the tables. He was losing,” Holburn continued. “And he was deeply in his cups.”

“Wright was drunk? He has a good head for spirits,” Gillian said to Fiona as if to convince her, or make sense out of this new behavior. “He doesn’t overimbibe. Brian has been home every night since we’ve come to London.”