The Fairest of Them All (8 page)

His comment, that he had been aware of her boredom, sparked a laugh. Yes, he was a
good
man. One she could respect, and perhaps even grow to love.

Love. It was such a funny word. Her mother had loved her father so much that after the ­miserable life he'd given her, she'd followed him in death. Char had never thought she could trust love. But Baynton was different. He had the resources to provide a good life.

But would he slay a dragon for her?

A heavy knock sounded on the door. A pounding actually, because the wood slats of the door jumped with each blow.

Startled, and since she was standing closest to the handle, Char opened the door, and then stepped back in shock.

Whitridge
stood there. He seemed full of himself as if he had news to impart.

“I am looking for the Duke of Baynton—­” he started, and then stopped, his jaw dropping for one long, endless second. “
You?
” he whispered, recognizing her.

Char slammed the door in his face before he could say more.

Chapter Eight

J
ack stared at the door. He'd barely pulled back before having his nose smashed.

It was she. The girl. The pickpocket.

The lass who for some reason had been nesting in his mind.

She was here at Lady Charlene Blanchard's house. She was right on the other side of the door.

And of course he had to knock again. He would bloody damn well hammer the door down. It was that sort of day for him. She owed him Matthew's purse, and an explanation.

He also wanted another very good look at her. She was a beauty in breeches, but in a dress, well, she had no equal—­

The door opened to his knock but instead of his thief, his brother came out, looking ducally ­perturbed. He set his hat on his head. “What the blast are you doing here?”

“Knocking on a door. Looking for you. Who is the girl that answered?” He tried to catch a look around his brother.

Gavin shouldered him away, closing the door. He brushed by Jack.

For a second, Jack was caught between his desire to chase the lovely thief and his duty to talk to his brother. Honor won out, barely.

Gavin was already in the seat of his phaeton; his tiger, a small man in Baynton livery, jumped to stand on the step behind the driver. In a second he would be gone.

The thiefess would have to wait.

Gavin was turning the phaeton around, a tricky maneuver in such tight quarters as this narrow street. It took little effort on Jack's part to step up beside the tiger. He offered the man a coin. “I wish to speak to my brother alone.”

Gavin looked back at him, frowned. He had his hands full backing and turning the horses. He nodded for the servant to leave. The tiger jumped down to make his own way home.

Jack climbed over the seat of the moving ­vehicle to sit beside his brother. It was a narrow seat with only a ledge for one's feet.

Jack reset his hat on his head. “Nice horses,” he said.

His twin did not respond. His jaw had gone rock-­hard. Jack smiled. If he'd wanted his ­brother's attention, he had it.

“Father always preferred bays,” Jack continued as if making conversation. “However, like you, I'm partial to grays. Do you think it is one of those ways we are alike, but we don't think we are—­?”

“I have no idea.” Gavin didn't even bother to look in his direction.

Jack leaned back in the seat, rather enjoying the ride although the traffic at the corner was a mess. Two dogs in separate dogcarts had taken a dislike to each other and were snarling and yapping. One had overturned his cart.

“Listen to them,” he said to Gavin. “We could sound much the same if we had a mind to.”

Gavin frowned in the direction of the dogs, but he didn't speak.

“To be honest, I have no desire to be at odds with you. You're my brother. My twin. Perhaps we are not close, but that doesn't mean we don't have things in common.”

“What do you want, Jack?”

“You know what I want, Baynton.”

“My support for your ‘negotiations'?” He shook his head. “I don't have time for the matter. Talk to Ben. He is the one you should tap.”

“I saw Ben today. He said that no one wants to deal with the American grievances or take time to discuss what is considered undiscussable.” He pretended to laugh. “Russell warned me that the Court of St. James is rude to the point of being disdainful, but I want to think better of the En­glish. Ben said the only person who could force the matter is you.”

“And so you tracked me down?”

“It wasn't difficult.”

“Did Talbert tell you were I was?” His tone had gone silky. He was not pleased.

“Your secretary is as tight-­lipped as they come. I asked around the stables. Your tiger had requested directions to Mulberry Street. By the way, we left Perkins back there. I suppose he needn't follow me if I am with you.”

Gavin grunted his response.

Jack was not afraid of poking the lion in the eye. “So why were you there? Were you ‘calling' on Lady Charlene Blanchard?”

Gavin moved the horses down a side street, ­attempting to avoid the snarl of traffic.

“Ben said you had gone courting,” Jack continued.

His twin's eyes narrowed, but he did not speak.

Jack sat forward. “Do you know, this silent ­treatment that you are attempting has never worked with me? Do you not remember? You would be all bluster like Father and then decide you would have nothing to do with me or my mates, and give me this cold shoulder. Never bothered me. However, one thing we have in common is our ­persistence, Gav. I don't give an inch any more than you do. For the record, let me remind you, I did come to you last night. You insisted I stay at Menheim, I have. Now, I believe it is
your
turn to give a bit.”

“I told you to stay at Menheim for Mother.
I
don't care where you sleep.”

“Ah, brotherly love.” Jack hitched an arm on the back of the seat beside his twin, making himself comfortable. He moved the conversation to what he was truly interested in. “Was Lady Charlene Blanchard the one opening the door or was that a relative? Or a servant?” Jack was intensely ­curious about the answer.

“It happened to be Lady Charlene.”

Jack sat in stunned silence. His brother was courting the pickpocket. Then again, what sort of gentlewoman picked pockets?

An intriguing one . . .

Jack also found himself reevaluating his opinion of his twin. The Gavin he had known had strived to be morally superior to the rest of his sex. He could not know what she was about. Or could he?

The traffic had begun to move again and Gavin weaved his team around other drivers ­wanting to move. As he drove, Gavin chided, “What? Have you no witticism to toss at me? No mocking words?”

“Not one,” Jack admitted honestly. “I'm ­actually a bit stunned. Damn, Gavin, you are human like the rest of us.”

“And that means?”

“That you are as ruled by your little head as any other man around.”

Gavin's response was to stare, glower actually, ahead.

Jack was unperturbed. He had come here with the purpose of shaking up his brother. He had now found his way.

“Good family?” he asked.

With a haughty lift of his noble chin, Gavin said, “The best. Dame Imogen has approved her bloodlines. Lady Charlene is aligned with some of the noblest families in England.”

“You would not be able to tell that by where she lives.”

“There is no dishonor in being without funds.”

“I'm not saying there is,” Jack was quick to answer. “I've lived by my wits and eaten hardtack.”

“Although you needn't. You had a family to take you in.”

Jack decided not to argue that point. Besides, his curiosity was about Lady Charlene. “She doesn't? Not one of her stellar relatives would open their doors?”

“Did you ever hear of Dearne?”

Jack shook his head.

“He was a miserable gambler. Drink ruined his brain. They pulled him out of the Thames. He left his wife and child with nothing. A few years later and the wife died. Lady Charlene is their orphan.”

“Tragic.”

“More than that—­Father gambled with Dearne. I don't know if you remember but Father won the Scots pearls off of him and whatever else he could take. He found it great sport although it was much like blind robbery.”

Jack sat up. “Are
you
criticizing Father?” He made a pretense of looking around. “Am I in London? Is this truly
my
brother?”

The look Gavin gave him would have skewered him if it had been a sword. “I am aware Father had faults. I wasn't blind, Jack.”

Jack had thought so. He'd never imagined his brother would question their father. Certainly not in the way Jack had. “I admit I am surprised to hear you say this.”

“You must think me a dunderhead.”

“It may not be wise to say.”

Gavin ignored the barb. “I learned after Father died that what he did and what he had expected from me were two different things.”

This was news. “Such as?” Jack asked.

“Father had been bleeding the estates dry gambling on bad investments. I am certain he meant to recoup his losses but he died before he could.”

“Had he lost that much money?”

“Most of it.”

“What did you do?”

“I went to Fyclan Morris. You remember him?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. Elin's father. He was standing by Mother last night.”

“Morris's wife died a year or so ago. He and Mother have been keeping each other company.”

That was another interesting tidbit of news.

“Morris helped me put most of the fortune back together. It was a harrowing adventure. Father had invested in the wildest of schemes.”

“Such as?”

“He favored inventions, many of which were the handiwork of charlatans and if it included ­electricity, he would double the amount he ­invested. Then there were risky expeditions. A few came through but not with the riches Father had anticipated. I learned the important lesson that what people see on the outside isn't always true on the inside.”

He was right. “And how are you now?”

“Better than I should be. Morris is a genius when it comes to money and I've been very lucky.”

“Or shrewd,” Jack said with admiration. He had assumed that all had been easy for his twin. Instead, Gavin had been trapped in his own little box. Granted their sire had built it for him, but it had been his choice to stay and fight and he had. “I give you credit. That must have been a ­challenge.”

Gavin nodded.

“And now you are looking for a wife. This is all good.”

His twin glanced at him. “Are you mocking me?”

Jack held up a hand. “I am not. I'm happy to see you becoming your own man. In fact, I owe you an apology. I have been guilty of misjudging you.”

Again, Gavin sent him a doubtful look.

“My word of honor,” Jack promised. “And to be honest, I have no quarrel with you. Yes, I had ­assumptions but I've changed—­for the better, I ­believe. Why would you have not changed as well?”

Gavin pulled the phaeton over to the side of the road and set the brake. “Do you mean that? Or are you just interested in manipulating me into advancing your negotiations?”

“Both,” Jack said. “I mean what I say and, yes, I would very much like your help because a meeting between our two governments might not happen without you. I have heard that I am now labeled a turncoat because I consider myself an American.”

“Aren't you? You are quite literally rejecting your heritage.”

“But not my family. Gavin, I've never had a pretension to the title. Oh, when I was younger I ­believed it unfair that because you had made it out of the womb before I did, you should be ­Baynton. The truth is, I would have been a ­miserable duke. If I had discovered that Father had wasted a ­fortune, I would have been bloody angry.”

“I was. However, anger doesn't solve problems.”

“You should have told me that years ago. Perhaps it would have saved me some time learning it.”

His admission drew a reluctant smile from his brother. Gavin shook his head. “I'd forgotten how blunt you could be . . .” His voice trailed off as if he was considering something new.

Jack waited, curious about what was on the ducal mind.

Gavin sat up. “I need help. It seems only right that if I help you, you help me.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Did your wife love you?”

This was not a change of topic Jack could have anticipated. “Yes, she did. Surprising, isn't it? However, she could never have loved me as much as I loved her.”

“I want Lady Charlene to fall in love with me.”

“And you need me because?”

“I don't know how to go about it. I sent ­flowers to her last night but they were the wrong thing. I realized when I called on her today. She was ­gracious, but there was a moment when the ­silence was awkward, uneasy.”

“Those things happen,” Jack said with a shrug. “I also don't believe you need to worry about winning the lady. You are a duke—­”

“I don't want her to love me for my title. I watch Ben and Elin and she has such care for him, I'm jealous. Did your wife think that highly of you?”

“I believe so. I also understand what you mean. Hope liked me. No matter how arrogant or ­ridiculous or headstrong I was, she cared. And often would bring me back to a sense of myself. She could say what others couldn't.”

“Yes, that is what I see in Ben and Elin. I want that.” He asked, “Do you see yourself marrying again?”

Jack nodded. “Sooner or later, but I won't settle for just anyone. Hope taught how me good it can be between a man and a woman. I confess, I want what I had. Someday I hope to find love again.”

“I want Lady Charlene. I
want
her.”

There was that little head again—­and yet was there ever a man who married without feeling lust deep in his gut?

“Then do what you did today,” Jack said. “Call on her. Take time to know her.”

“Time is the one commodity I don't have.”

“You will have to find it. There is no other way to woo a woman that doesn't include giving her your undivided attention.”

Gavin sat on that a moment. “All right, I will. I told her today that I wished to see her as much as I could—­”

“Good.”

“I have instructed Talbert to see that she is ­invited to all the events I attend.”

“Somewhat good.”

“What is wrong with that?”

“Time,
time
. If you meet her at balls and routs, you must plant yourself right by her side. You mustn't move because
that
girl is lovely. There will be a dozen other gentlemen, maybe more, who will note your interest and be willing to swoop her up from you just for the fun of the chase.”