The Regency Redgraves: What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares

The Earl of Saltwood much preferred to make an entrance, especially with his bride on his arm.

The hours in between sitting down to dinner and their departure had been busy ones, but now Valentine had been brought abreast of what was going on, what Gideon suspected, what Trixie had confirmed. Val had agreed Kate was probably even now ripping Redgrave Manor apart, from attics to cellars to chicken coops, hot on the hunt for the journals their father had found more than two decades previously and added to every year since then, until his murder.

The journals and the bible, although Gideon and Trixie now both believed the bible, at the very least, had been turned over to the new leader and was still in use. After all, hadn’t Burke, Barry Redgrave’s loyal valet, disappeared the day after the small, private funeral? Burke, his wife and their daughter.

Val also agreed having Kate find so much as a single journal could prove disastrous, unless he and even Max were there to physically wrest the thing from her hands before 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 imagine. What makes you believe anything at all will happen once you take me home?”

Gideon extended his arm to her, and she slipped hers around his elbow as they entered the mansion and crossed to the now empty staircase. “Two things, really. One, I’m a hopeful man by nature. And two, I am fully prepared to grovel.”

Jessica’s delightful peal of laughter had just the effect Gideon had been striving for, as everyone at the top of the stairs turned to look down at the approaching couple. What they saw, he knew, was a beautiful, flame-haired creature dressed in the first stare of fashion, her exquisitely designed ivory gown alight with spangles, the Redgrave diamonds at her throat, wrist and fingers catching every bit of light thrown by the huge chandelier above their heads—all put in the shade by the genuine, open smile of a woman totally at ease with herself and her world.

His wife. His countess. Not his penance, not his love, yet not simply his possession. Just his. And Gideon Redgrave protected what was his.

“Gideon, you monster, I thought you were going to snub me!” Sally Jersey called down from the receiving line. “Instead, you’ve brought me a present—the coup of the Season thus far, and most probably forever.”

Gideon bowed over Lady Jersey’s hand even as Jessica dropped into a graceful curtsy.

“And now you owe me a favor, Silence, my dear,” he said quietly. “I wish a waltz to immediately follow the announcement of my arrival. Now, now, don’t open your pretty mouth to tell me that’s impossible. You may not yet condone the thing at your dreary Almacks, but does society really dictate to Sally Jersey in her own home?”

“You court scandal as others crave their daily bread,” the countess whispered back, but then summoned a liveried footman, to send him scurrying off to inform the small orchestra of her demand. “Here, as I was just about to leave my post, anyway, I’ll walk between you as you enter the ballroom, to lend you my consequence, not that you need it. By the way, the dowager countess is here, titillating us all as usual, and holding court over a veritable coterie of young admirers, all rigged out in their regimental colors. She arrived on Selsby’s arm, and he’s been virtually sitting at her feet all the evening long, like some hopeful puppy. The man is barely out of leading strings when compared to Trixie, Gideon. You don’t suppose the two of them are—No, I won’t even say the words.”

“Please don’t or I might blush, and that wouldn’t do wonders for my consequence.” He stopped just at the entrance to the ballroom and lifted his quizzing glass to his eye. “You’ve got the entire world here, haven’t you, all cheek by jowl? My congratulations, not that I’m surprised. Tell me, did you deign to invite Lord Charles Mailer or the Right Honorable Archibald Urban?”

The countess looked at him out of the corners of her eyes. “Why? What did they do? Is it delicious? Are you going to cause a scene?”

“Not at all. Are they here?”

“I shouldn’t answer, not when you’re going to drive me wild with speculation. But, yes, they’re both here. Lord Charles and his little mouse of a bride, Archie Urban and his patently unhappy spouse. But I’ll let you find them on your own.” She turned and nodded to a servant on her right, who immediately puffed himself up and announced the arrival of the Earl of Saltwood and his lady countess in a suitably stentorian tone.

The reaction was all Gideon could have hoped for. Conversations cut off. Heads turned. He bowed over Sally’s hand and then extended his left arm to Jessica a heartbeat before the orchestra struck up the scandalous waltz.

“Take my hand.”

“Should I point out I’ve only waltzed with my dancing master, a less formal country waltz at that, and it was over five years ago, sans musical accompaniment?” Jessica asked as she put her hand in his and he drew her out onto the floor. “Something you might have considered before pulling me along after you like some tricked-out pony expected to perform.”

But she was smiling as she said it, so that Gideon’s heart, which admittedly skipped a beat at this news, calmed once more. “I’m not putting you on show, although it occurs to me now you might think so. Sally, who owes me more than a single favor, has just bestowed her stamp of approval, and we are going to, pardon my crudity, milk that teat for all it’s worth.” He took her hand in his. “Are you ready?”

Jessica stepped back, dropping into a curtsy even as she seemingly effortlessly found the silken ring of fabric on her gown and slipped her finger through it, raising the right side of her overskirt so that it would float through every dip and turn of the dance. “I’ll want to hear more about this promised groveling, my lord, I believe,” she said as his hand went to her waist, her arm lifted to his shoulder. “In detail.”