The Regency Redgraves: What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares. Kasey Michaels
Читать онлайн книгу.
she so much as opened it.
Or, to quote him exactly, and Gideon knew he wouldn’t soon forget his brother’s words, “You put a job in front of Kate, she does it. If she finds something, she won’t simply hand it over, you know. No, she’ll demand complete inclusion in whatever the hell it is we may end up having to do—which would be your fault, Gideon. And if she thinks she’s been put to hunting mares’ nests just so you have her out of the way, well, then, brother mine, it will be more than your fault, it will be your head. Either way, I don’t know that you thought this plan of yours through very well, did you?”
Which he hadn’t. Gideon knew that. Having his youngest brother point that fact out to him, however, brought home to Gideon how little he had been thinking these past weeks, perhaps even months. He should have brought his brothers in on his suspicions long ago. Why hadn’t he?
But he knew the answer to that question. He was the oldest brother. He was the head of the Redgrave family. The burdens belonged on his shoulders. He hadn’t wanted his brothers involved, hadn’t wanted Max or Val and definitely not Kate to learn how much of a monster their father had been, how much of a victim their mother had been. And Trixie? Well, there was no stopping them from learning about Trixie, as the woman lived her life quite openly, didn’t she?
There was one other thing. He could have been wrong. The deaths he’d begun to notice could all have been accidents and coincidental. Just as the cave-in of a tunnel beneath the greenhouse could have been a natural event, the lanterns in the forest carried by poachers.
Of course, finding out their father’s body had been taken might have been a good time to bring at least his brothers into his confidence.
Still, he could have been wrong about the rest, at least until the night he’d dragged his physician to that stable and they’d found the hole in Turner Collier’s skull.
He should have brought them in then. Except then he’d met Jessica. Val may have heard most of what Gideon had learned, what Trixie had confirmed, but Gideon had told him only that Jessica was Adam’s half sister, estranged from the family after making an unfortunate marriage. He’d seen no reason to go into more detail than that. The past was the past, Jessica’s past her own. It was the uncertain future that had to concern them all now.
He’d had so many very good reasons to not do what he had all along known he should.
He was so used to being a man who kept his secrets to himself, the worst of his family’s sordid past carefully hidden behind closed doors. It was Jessica who’d changed that, with her openness and honesty, even when the facts proved painful.
And the burden of his family shame, shared now with Jessica, was lighter just as he’d told her. Speaking with Val had made it lighter still.
No, it wasn’t the past Gideon carried with him now, it was the future that lay heavily on his shoulders, and the responsibility to correct whatever may have been set on a dangerous course so many years ago.
“I like your brother,” Jessica said as she and Gideon settled against the velvet squabs of the Redgrave town coach for a ride of merely blocks. “He’s serious when he has to be, and quick enough to understand what to say and what not to say. He didn’t ask a single question that would have made me uncomfortable, although I’m sure his head was buzzing with them. Do you really think he’ll leave?”
“Yes, I do. It was putting him in charge of Kate that turned the corner for us. The thought she might actually discover the journals was all the incentive he needed. Plus, he understands now why I want Adam away from London. We’re certain he’s safe from the Society, but I’d rather be more than certain. You know, you didn’t tell me how you convinced Kate to leave.”
“Oh, that was easy enough. I told her you wanted her to stay in London, fearful that she’d try hunting out the journals if she went back to Redgrave Manor.”
“And she believed you?”
“Probably not. but I know she wants to help, and finding the journals might be a help. So it worked out.”
“Once again proving women are smarter than men. She and I would have all but come to blows before I would have been able to boost her out of town. My congratulations.” He lifted the curtain and peered through the window. “Good. We’ve just turned in to the Square. Sally Jersey’s a good friend, so don’t be intimidated when she looks you up and down as if you’re a race horse she’s considering purchasing. Just remember you’re the most beautiful woman in the room. Any room.”
“I’m not nervous. I’ve been looked up and down before, Gideon, and in surroundings far less civilized than a London mansion,” she told him. “Besides, I’m with you, so there’s nobody who would dare say or do anything to upset me. Because, as I recall the comment, you Redgraves spit bigger than most people.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I should have our crest reworked to include that somehow, shouldn’t I? Would it sound better in Latin, do you think?”
“Probably not even in Greek. Now, tell me again about Lord Charles and Mr. Urban. You can recognize them both on sight?”
“Yes, although I can’t say we’re friends. Urban is also a member of the Four-in-Hand Club, although I rarely ride with them anymore. Lord Charles is on his second wife, the first having died a few years ago. A fall down the stairs, or from a cliff that gave way while she was out walking, something like that.” He heard what he’d just said and looked quizzically at Jessica. “You don’t suppose…”
Jessica wrapped her shawl more tightly about her. “It’s easy to become fanciful, isn’t it? Is Mr. Urban married?”
“I don’t know. We can’t even be certain either one of them will be here tonight, save for the fact that nobody turns down an invitation from Sally Jersey, not if they’re at all concerned with being seen as the very crème of the ton. I’m only sorry your first evening of the Season is going to be spent playing at spy, but we have no time to waste.”
“I understand. I’d also like to get it over with as quickly as possible. There will be whispers, with my father’s death only a month behind us. Should I prepare to be cut by some of the other guests—over and above your immense consequence as Saltwood, that is?”
“My consequence has little to do with it. You simply never know what a Redgrave might dare if provoked, you understand. They’d be more afraid I’d toss somebody off a balcony or bloody their elevated noses for them. You can’t trust a Redgrave, you know. Kate proved that again just last Season. Poor society. It can’t avoid us, it can’t ignore us, and it can’t turn away from us because we fascinate them so. At least that’s what Trixie believes.”
“I imagine gaining a Special License to wed the sister of your new ward, the woman you announced as your fiancée not even two weeks ago, and then bringing her to a ball within twenty-four hours of your hasty marriage is just the sort of thing society expects from you?”
Gideon considered this for a moment, as the groom let down the steps of the town carriage. “You know, Jessica, I just may have topped myself. But no matter what, from now on it’s up to Max and Val to hold up the family’s reputation for scandal. I can’t possibly think of anything to cap the stir the two of us are going to cause in the next few minutes.”
“You don’t have to sound so pleased,” she pointed out as he helped her onto the flagway and into the light cast by the large flambeaux flanking the front door of the mansion. “Anyone would think we’re on our way to a fair. Should I be prepared to watch as you balance a ball on your nose?”
“No, but I may kiss my wife on the nose while on the dance floor, just to remind everyone that I am husband to the most beautiful, desirable woman in the room. Listen closely, and you’ll hear the gnashing of envious teeth, not because of the kiss, but because they will all know what’s going to happen once I take you home. Poor devils. I have never been accused of being a particularly nice man.”
“Or particularly modest, either, I’d