The Fairest of Them All (18 page)

“I do. Isn't Gretna Green a long ways from here?”

“Not that far on horseback. Fortunately no one took anything off my person. I have the money to hire two horses. We can reach Gretna within the week, maybe less.”

“Then let us be gone.” She spoke without ­hesitation.

”You shall make an excellent American wife.”

Her answer was a lovely grin. “I can't wait for the adventure.”

“Follow me then.” He stepped back onto the street. “We have to keep up the ruse a bit longer. We are two mates out on the town. Of course, this helps us. When Gavin starts looking for us, and he will, he will be looking for a man and woman.”

Within the hour, they had hired two horses, and as the sun rose, they were well on their way out of London.

Chapter Eighteen

G
avin did not have a good night's sleep.

His conscience bothered him, as it had the night before. He had only to look at his mother to feel the pangs. She had not taken Jack's leaving well.

Worse, Gavin had lied to her. He was not a liar by nature and the sin did not rest well on him. It was compounded by his suspicion that she had heard their argument. She knew.

Last night, he had never wanted anything as much as he'd wanted Lady Charlene. Sitting across the table from her, he'd pictured her as the mother of his children and the partner in his bed. His body had ached for her.

Of course, Sunday night, the knowledge that she favored Jack and they were meeting behind Gavin's back had stirred an emotion in him that he'd never experienced before—­jealousy. ­Festering, evil jealousy.

Because of it, Gavin had dashed his twin's chances to accomplish his reason for being in London—­although, in truth, or to assuage his conscience, Gavin believed the grievances Jack had planned to present would have been met with stony gazes and cold shoulders. Gavin could build a case that he'd actually saved Jack from making a fool of himself. No one wanted to hear the American complaints, or feared going to war with them. Some, especially in the Admiralty, were even anxious for a chance to reclaim those lost colonies.

Gavin rose from his bed. He walked over to the window overlooking the garden. The sun had just risen. If he was of a mind to, he could go to the Horse and Horn and talk to his brother.

They might have a reasonable conversation and then Jack would board the ship on which Gavin had booked passage for him and leave . . . and then Gavin recalled the kiss he'd given Lady Charlene.

That kiss had kept him awake most of the night. He'd brooded over it. He'd liked kissing her but he was aware that she had not been, well, what was correct word? Impressed? Thrilled? Comfortable?

Charlene Blanchard was a well-­mannered lass. She had pretended, except he'd known she was pretending.

And now his conscience returned to his ­miserable treatment of his twin.

He could even hear his father chastising him for having a care. There were traits Gavin had ­admired about his father, but he distrusted his sire's selfishness. A selfishness that apparently lurked inside Gavin as well.

Without ringing for his valet, Gavin dressed for riding. Exercise was what he needed. He'd been cooped up in London too long. He couldn't remember when last he had visited Trenton, his family's country estate. Certainly the world could do without him for a few weeks?

He could invite Lady Charlene and Lady ­Baldwin for a sojourn in the country. Lady ­Charlene would be impressed with his estate, and because things were always less formal in the country, they could have a chance to know each other better.

Lady Charlene's traveling aunt could join them as well. Trenton was far closer to Manchester than London was.

He liked his plan. He jotted a note to Talbert to prepare the invitation. He would personally ­deliver it later today.

Outside, the air was cold and brisk. His horse Falcon was fresh and ready for an adventure. For a good two hours, the horse kept Gavin's troubled conscience at bay and it felt good.

By the time he returned home, he'd convinced himself once again that he was completely ­justified in his actions toward Jack. After all, his twin had rejected his family once. Why could they not reject him?

After an hour with his valet, Gavin was ready to face the world. He broke his fast on beefsteak and coffee. Talbert sat with him, outlining his schedule for the day. But Gavin wasn't listening. Instead his mind was on his brother. The
Lucky Lucy
, a merchant frigate, was due to sail on the high tide that evening. Jack and his compatriots would be on board.

There had been no complaint from the two other members of Jack's delegation in accepting his offer to purchase their passage home. Like all governments, the United States didn't pay in a timely fashion, and those in its service rarely knew when to expect money. They would ­probably turn in the expense of their tickets anyway. Few were as moral as Gavin—­

His conscience cut off the thought. That could no longer be said, could it?

Gavin lost his appetite.

“I did include the opportunity for you to pay a call on Lady Charlene between three and half past the hour,” Talbert finished.

“Good. Have flowers sent.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

A knock on the door to the breakfast room ­interrupted them. Perkins stood there and he did not look good. Gavin had not seen him since early Sunday evening. His nose was swollen and his right eye was a deep, unhealthy color of purple.

“Talbert, leave us,” Gavin ordered.

He waited until the secretary had left the room and closed the door before he said, “What the deuce happened to you?”

“Your brother has a good right,” Perkins answered. He stood at the end of the table, his hat under his arm, his coat still on his shoulders.

“When did he do that?”

“Monday in the wee hours. When we took him to the inn. He saw what we were about and fought hard.”

“What you were about?” Gavin repeated.

Perkins had the grace to look uncomfortable. “You did not expect him to willingly follow your orders and docilely leave the country, did you, Your Grace?”

“I anticipated that he might be unhappy, but if he was confined to his quarters, there would be little he could do.”

“And how did you expect us to confine him? I warned you this would be messy. We couldn't put him in his room. He would have climbed out of a window. He is a resourceful man.”

“What did you do?”

“We locked him in a storeroom in the inn's cellar. There was no way he could escape from that room.”

“You expected him to stay there for two days?” Gavin would have gone half mad being shut in for even a day.

“We had no choice. I said he was difficult.”

Gavin nodded. He knew. He also discovered that knowing his twin was confined in such a brutal manner did not set well with him. His ­already ­roiling conscience became even more restless.

“However, what we did does not matter, Your Grace,” Perkins said. “He has escaped.”

“
What?
”

Perkins nodded, his expression bleak. “He left sometime in the night. I came here because I feared he would come for you.”

“He hasn't.”

“Thank God.” Perkins meant the words. “He is a fighter and he is very angry with you, Your Grace.”

“Understood. If the door was locked, how did he leave? Did you not post guards?”

Perkins looked even more beleaguered. “I used two of the footmen, reasoning they would keep each other alert. They won't admit it but I ­believe they fell asleep. They saw nothing, which if one's eyes were closed would stand to reason. I then rousted the two other Americans from their beds. One had a local tart with him and I don't imagine he left her to save Lord Jack. The other, the older gentleman, has no love for your brother, Your Grace. He was well pleased that the meeting has been canceled and the delegation remanded, ­especially since Your Grace is paying their ­expenses and passage home.”

“Where the devil could Jack be?”

“I have men checking the wharves.”

“He wouldn't go there.” Gavin pushed away from the table and stood. He found himself ­imagining he was Jack. What would he do?

Lady Charlene
. If he were Jack, he would go to the true center of their conflict—­to the woman they both wanted.

He strode to the breakfast room door and threw it open. “
Henry
,” he called.

The butler hurried from the front hall. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Have a horse saddled for me immediately and fetch my hat and coat.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Shutting the door, Gavin faced Perkins. “Keep searching for my brother. Try Whitehall. He may go there to salvage the meeting I canceled.”

“Do you have any other idea where he is?” ­Perkins asked carefully, obviously suspecting by his actions that Gavin did.

However, Gavin had no desire to drag Lady Charlene's name into this. He could smell ­scandal. It was important to him to keep her reputation safe, and having his men surround her home would only raise interest from his ­enemies and the gossips. He needed to go alone, especially since, considering how perceptive she was, he knew she would ask uncomfortable questions.

So Gavin now added to his list of sins lying to one of his most trusted confidants. “No, I don't. However, I must see to another matter.”

Perkins did not believe him. However, he did not argue. After all, Gavin paid his wages. He bowed. “If I may leave, Your Grace?”

“Yes, go. Take whatever men you need from the servants.”

“I may need all.”

“Fine.”

Alone again, Gavin sat in the nearest chair, his mind busy. A footstep at the door caught his attention. Ben stood there. He frowned.

“I just saw Perkins. He does not look well.”

Gavin shrugged.

“And I've had a conversation with Mother.” Ben entered the room. “She told me you have ordered Jack to leave. What I gathered from what she is
not
saying, you used a manner similar to how Father sent me away years ago.”

Uneasy, Gavin rose.

“What the devil at you doing, brother?” Ben asked. “You even canceled the meeting we've spent weeks setting up for Jack. Why?”

Gavin's first instinct was to shut Ben down. No one had ever dared to question their father. He stood still, struggling within himself.

“You are a better man than this,” Ben said, his voice losing its censorial tone. “Do you not ­recognize what losing Jack again means to our mother? I mean, I had no problem with ­shutting down the meeting. No one was interested in ­hearing the Americans carry on. Without your support, most of them consider Jack one step away from being a traitor. But I was led to understand this was Jack's decision.”

“It wasn't. I decided.”

“And you have decided the time has come for him to leave as well?”

“I didn't know you were so damn close to him,” Gavin shot back.

“I thought
you
were.” Ben took a step back. “You have been behaving funny lately, Your Grace. One moment you are a true leader and in the next, a petty despot. There is an air in this house today, even amongst the servants. Something has ­happened and they are not proud of it.”

“Are you done?” Gavin kept his voice neutral. Ben's words were sharp darts.

“Apparently. Let me know if you need me, Your Grace. My wife is indisposed and I need to take Mother to her.” Ben bowed and left just as Henry came to the door holding Gavin's hat and coat.

“Your horse is waiting outside, Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” Gavin said.

He prayed he did not find Jack with Lady ­Charlene. He did not know what he would do if that were true.

Less than a quarter of an hour later, he knocked on the door of the house on Mulberry Street.

The maid answered. He recognized her by her green eyes. Witch's eyes, he thought. They were hard to forget.

She was wearing a blue day dress that appeared nothing like the costume for a maid she had been wearing. She had also not donned her mobcap. She was a redhead. That surprised him. Her hair color was unique, rich, warm.

At the sight of Gavin, she started and then made a graceful curtsy. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“I am here to see Lady Charlene and Lady Baldwin. It is a matter of some urgency.” He took off his hat and started to enter the house but she didn't move.

“Lady Baldwin is not here,” she said. “And Lady Charlene is still abed.”

“Please wake her. I will wait for her in the ­sitting room.”

Still the maid did not move and so he stepped ­forward and she had no choice but to step aside. “I will be in here,” he said, pointing to the sitting room.

“I don't believe this is correct, Your Grace,” the maid said anxiously.

“I'm not worried about correctness right now. There is a situation afoot and I must see Lady ­Charlene ­immediately. Will you fetch her, or must I?”

Those words coupled with the right tone had the maid closing the door. “One moment, Your Grace,” she said. She hurried up the stairs.

Gavin paced the length of the sitting room, his hat in his hands. He had not yet decided how much he should or should not say to Lady ­Charlene. ­Obviously, thankfully, Jack was not here.

However, at some point, he realized if he was ever to have peace again, he would have to tell Lady Charlene that he had asked Jack to leave. Yes, that was the term he would use. He'd
asked
Jack to leave and Jack had agreed—­

The maid practically tumbled down the stairs. She leaned against the sitting room door and confronted Gavin. “Why was it urgent for you to see Charlene?”

Her subservient manner had disappeared.

“I beg your pardon?”

True concern furrowed her brow. “Your reason for this unannounced visit, Your Grace? What is it?”

“I believe that information is for Lady Charlene or her guardian.” He referred to Lady Baldwin and so was caught off guard by the maid's next declaration.

“I
am
her guardian. I am her aunt. Mrs. Sarah Pettijohn. Now why did you seek my niece at this hour of the morning and with urgency? Tell me, Your Grace,
please
.”

Her aunt had always been here? Pretending to be a maid?

“Your Grace, does your visit involve
your brother
?”

Now she had his attention. “I have some ­concerns about him,” he admitted, confused by both her conjecture and her manner.

“Do you know where he is?”

Alarmed, he answered truthfully, “I thought he might possibly be here.”