Seducing the Beast (5 page)

“We might have met at my apartments,” said Griff, looking around with an eye ready to disapprove.

“Ah, but here in public you’ll be obliged to keep a level head and not beat me to a pulp.” Said in a joking manner, it fooled neither brother. Gabriel’s laugh was strained, a frenzied twitter. “But before we speak of solemn matters, can we not share an ale first? I’ve yet to offer you felicitations on the anniversary of your birth!”

He’d forgotten his birthday completely, and suspected his brother made so much of it now simply to avoid other subjects. “I confess my day has been a full and tiring one. The fact I’ve survived thirty five years of life seems scant cause for celebration. I’ve not yet even returned to my chambers for a change of clothes, so I’ve no fancy to delay here longer than necessary.”

Gabriel’s merry countenance fell quickly to a sad pout. “We might stay a while and talk. Brothers who’ve been apart two years surely have much news to share.”

Disgruntled, Griff agreed to stay for one drink. After his encounter on the river with that stray wench, he suffered a fierce thirst and surely there could be no harm in one quick sup.

He gestured irritably to a corner table. It was already occupied, which meant nothing to him. He’d chosen it and therefore he would have it. As he strode to the table, the men seated there broke off their conversation, scattering hastily from his view. The brothers sat facing one another across the pitted table, and Gabriel looked for the serving wench.

Assessing his brother quickly and thoroughly, Griff decided he looked a little fatter than before, his face fleshier, the result, no doubt, of a lazy, indolent lifestyle at court. The boy never enjoyed riding, hunting, swimming, or any of those physical pursuits his brother favored for retaining strength, discipline and endurance. Gabriel’s only two sports were gambling and women. The latter might keep him in some level of vitality, but he put little effort into it. Women flocked around Gabriel and, in all likelihood, initiated the sport. He never broke a healthy sweat.

Griff cleared his throat. “Now what do you mean to do about that woman?”

“Ah. It seems we have no other subject after all.”

“It is the most important matter.”

This latest affair with a scandalous woman must be brought to a quick end, like all the others before it. Reputedly an ambitious concubine, Eustacia Shelton was thrice conveniently widowed and entirely unacceptable companionship for Gabriel.

“You should go home to Starling’s Roost,” said Griff. “Get some fresh air in your lungs. The stench of the city is rife this year.”

“Why?” his brother replied facetiously. “To get me away from her?”

“In part.”

“I can see she is much on your mind, and you’ll not be at ease until you’ve said your piece and insulted her. So have at it.” Gabriel raised a languid hand to the tippler for more ale. “Say what you will, if it makes you content.”

Griff ascertained his brother was half-way to cupshotten already--eyes glazed, gestures sloppy. However, the new sharpness in the boy’s tone caused greater concern. He looked almost sly and rather cocky, which he never was before. Instantly Griff blamed this unpleasant change on the influence of that woman currently holding his poor brother enthralled.

“You will quit her and London. Neither has done you any good whatsoever. That much is plain.”

Gabriel blinked, eyes foggy. “I know what you think, but you haven’t even met her. I intend to marry Lady Shelton, Eustacia.”

“
Marry her
?” A near ungovernable fury choked out of him. “The heir to my estate, marry that woman, the Scarlet Widow? Never! I forbid it!”

“I’m in love,” said Gabriel. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“
Love
?” He lowered his voice and hissed. “Love is for fools. Have I not told you this many times?”

“Because you’ve never known it.”

“Because I have a brain and use it, unlike most apparently.”

Gabriel’s head swung like a pendulum from his stooped shoulders. “Then I pity you, brother.”

“Spare your pity!” he spat. “Save it for that woman. She’ll need it when I’m done with her.”

“I love her!”

Griff struggled to control his wrath. His brother’s love affairs were mercurial, seldom outlasting a season, so he shouldn’t be so perturbed by this one. Indeed, he wouldn’t be, if not for that worrisome tone in the boy’s voice. Eyes fixed on Gabriel’s face, he said slowly and carefully, “Marry her and I will disinherit you.”

“How can you? What will you do? Suddenly produce a child of your own?”

The words sat between them, the rumor of Griff’s unfortunate incapability laid out with a conjurer’s flourish.

Gabriel wilted. He reached across for his brother’s clenched fist. “I should not have--”

Griff stood, leaving his drink untouched. On his way out he slipped on some spilled ale and smashed his hand through the leaded glass window. No one dared offer help and he sought none, striding out of the tavern, trailing blood in his wake.

* * * *

Eustacia lived in a grand house along the river, but her tenancy there was in dispute. Her stepchildren contested their late father’s will, embroiling her in a lawsuit likely to be held up in chancery court for months, even years. Meanwhile, she refused to leave her dead husband’s house and until her stepchildren and their solicitors found legal means to remove her, or until she found another protector, remained in residence, making the most of a life to which many thought her ill-deserving. And sneaking pieces of furniture out to sell on the sly.

Madolyn and Grace were never close to their cousin, but that winter, much to their surprise, she’d written to Grace, inviting her to visit. Their mother had insisted both girls go to “broaden their horizons”, also to look out for one another. Primarily, Madolyn believed she was there to stand guard over her sweet-natured, elder sister, a mission she undertook with great solemnity.

When she entered the house that afternoon, wet and bedraggled, Grace was mortified. “Maddie! Where have you been?”

“Out walking.”

“London is not Sydney Dovedale. You shouldn’t go wandering alone here as you do at home. And in that gown? If papa ever knew…”

“There’s no cause to fret, Grace. I can look after myself.” She gave her sister a quick kiss and ran to warm her hands by the fire.

“You’re soaking wet! What have you been up to?”

“An argument with a man on the river.”

“Anything might have happened to you. The place is filled with knaves and cutpurses!”

Yes
, she thought dourly,
and one such knave currently pays court to you, my sister
. Grace lectured her on the pitfalls of life in the great city, yet failed to heed her own warnings, sadly the victim of a romantic soul, vulnerable to poetry, especially when it came from the lips of a deceptively smooth and distinguished gentleman, but Madolyn decided it would serve no purpose to upset her now. Only if Lord Jessop did propose marriage to Grace would there be cause to tell her. Besides, they would return to Norfolk once their father’s ship made anchor and he arrived in London to collect them.

Home. It would be a bittersweet departure. On one hand she looked forward to going home again, back to their mother and the familiar routine. She even missed their naughty little brother, John Sydney Carver. At five years of age, he was the most dreadful accident that ever befell a family and neither she nor Grace could understand why their parents saw need for another child when they were already long past the age when they should think of such matters. Yet, she even remembered little John with a degree of fondness now. Indeed, she acknowledged much to be thankful for in the safe return of their father and in going home, but now it seemed she would return defeated, no husband found for her sister, and failing in her mission to save Nathaniel.

“Cousin Eustacia expects guests again this evening,” said Grace, squinting over her embroidery. “You must promise to behave and hold your tongue, or else she says you can stay in our room and not come down.”

Turning her back to the fire, Maddie lifted her skirt to warm her posterior. “My behavior is always most decorous.”

Grace looked up, brows arched.

“Indeed it is!” Maddie insisted. “How is it my fault, if her guests can’t abide a woman with opinions?”

“You may have your opinions, but keep them to yourself.”

“Bugger that! I’m not mute.”

“Much is the pity.” Grace put down her sewing. “You’ll get yourself in trouble one day with your wretched tongue.”

“Somebody has to speak up for what is right and fair.”

“Must it always be you, Maddie?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hey ho!”

“You’re a hothead like Cousin Nathaniel, and see what trouble it got him into.”

Dropping the hem of her skirt, Maddie walked over to admire her sister’s neat stitch. “Nathaniel is innocent,” she said, leaning over Grace’s shoulder. “And I intend to bring him safely home.”

At this moment Eustacia swept in, catching their conversation by the tail. “Don’t put yourself to any trouble for that witless bastard,” she exclaimed. “He causes his own trouble and can get himself out of it the same way.”

Maddie protested. “He is your brother!”

“Half-brother, and illegitimate,” Eustacia corrected tartly. She nurtured few tender feelings in her body, and all were spent on herself. “Have you grown
fatter
since you came here?” she demanded. “Your appetites should be restrained, cousin. The stitches will soon give out completely.” Then she discovered the puddle around Maddie’s feet. “What, pray tell, happened to you?”

“I went for a swim. Unexpectedly.”

“You’ll never get a straight answer from her,” Grace explained wearily, her delicate features assuming the customary apology. “’Tis as well not to ask and usually best not to know.”

Eustacia winced, one hand to her slender throat. “I suggest you change before my guests arrive. There’s a distinct odor of the Thames clinging to your person.”

“Am I permitted to join your guests this evening?” Maddie smiled pleasantly. “My sister thought I might not be welcome.”

“Can you be trusted to behave?”

“I’ll try my damnedest.” Tongue tucked into her cheek, she returned to the admiration of her sister’s embroidery, the sharp pins of Eustacia’s angry scrutiny pricking at her.

“Gabriel Mallory comes again this evening,” said her cousin. “Do not embarrass me, as you did yesterday.”

“How did I embarrass you?”

“You spoke to him of horse…breeding.”

“He spoke of it first, when he talked of his brother’s stables and fine stud horses.”

Eustacia wouldn’t listen to excuses. “Do not talk at all in future, unless remarking on the weather. That is surely a safe subject, even for you. And please refrain from guzzling the wine,” she added. “And leave some of the food to my other guests.”

Repressing her laughter, Maddie agreed to follow her cousin’s orders. Eustacia turned to look out the window, watching, no doubt, for her lover. Suddenly remembering her failed mission, Maddie thoughtfully considered her cousin’s potential usefulness. Eustacia entertained a great many gentlemen in the evenings and she might have access to important people. At least, she liked to act as if she had her finger on the very pulse of court life.

“What do you know of the Earl of Swafford, cousin?” Maddie asked. “Is it very difficult to get an audience with him?”

Eustacia’s face never warmed with any color. It was often painted white to hide her freckles, and now even her green eyes faded to a moldy hue. “The Earl of Swafford is a vile, vicious monster. He is vengeful, cruel and heartless. He will do all in his power to separate me from the man I love. Why seek an audience with that ogre?”

“The Earl of Swafford is Master Gabriel Mallory’s elder brother,” Grace whispered.

Ah, now she understood their cousin’s venom. Gabriel Mallory was the latest prey for whom their cousin primed her marital trap, and although he walked blithely into it, his elder brother, as Eustacia now angrily exclaimed, formed one, large, hairy obstacle in her path. Disapproving of the relationship, he swore to put an end to it.

With three dead husbands to her credit, folk disdainfully called their cousin the “Scarlet Widow”, which Maddie considered an injustice. By making three wealthy marriages to old, possibly senile gentlemen, Eustacia had kept her scapegrace father solvent for the last few years, herself well-fed and clothed, but why should she be slandered for taking matters into her own hands, assuring her own survival? Certainly, with a mother dead, a half-brother exiled and a father in debtor’s prison, no one else would do it for her.

Young Gabriel Mallory, potential husband number four, was a rare prize, the complete opposite of Eustacia’s last unfortunate spouse, if the gruesome portrait hanging in the gallery was a true likeness. Handsome and even-tempered, Gabriel was also good-hearted to a fault, but Maddie now discovered the young man scarcely dared move a hair on his fine head without his elder brother’s approval, and it was possible their cousin’s affair had only outlasted the winter because the Earl stayed abroad. News of his imminent return to England had put Eustacia in a nervous temper, for although she’d never met the man, she’d heard enough tales of his legendary rages to fear for her own scrawny neck.

“If you thought to tempt him into a pardon for Nathaniel,” she said, casting another scornful glance at Maddie’s snug bodice, “think again. I hear he is incapable.”

“Incapable of what?”

Eustacia’s plucked brows wrinkled like pulled stitches. “You know very well.”

She looked at her sister for explanation, but Grace, blushing prettily, bent even further over her embroidery.

Her cousin continued. “It is impossible to get an audience with him. When at court he keeps himself shut away in his apartments.”

“Why? Is he so wretchedly ugly? I heard he limps and has a hunched back. And a wart.”

“He has all those things…and worse,” Eustacia assured her, with enough vinegar and salt to season further dark ideas in her cousin’s overactive imagination.