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

It was closer to a quarter hour before he and Jessica were heading down the curved staircase, thanks to Jessica’s “rats’ nest,” but they were nearly to the door before Kate hailed them from the top of the stairs.

“What’s she done this time?” Lady Katherine asked as she bounded down the stairs with an energetic lack of caution that could have brought anyone else to grief. But not Kate. She never made a misstep, never gave a thought to decorum or, God help them all, her own safety. It was what he loved about her and why he worried so much about her. She was too damn much of a man for a woman. Somehow she’d lost any soft feminine side she’d ever had, preferring to act and be treated as if she was fourth and youngest Redgrave son.

He gave a moment’s thought to his sister’s question, and the fact that his grandmother had been entertaining the Marquis of Mellis. What if she wasn’t as deft as she believed herself to be? What if she’d slipped, or become angry with something he’d revealed to her? What if—“You’re not going with us, Kate.”

She ignored him as if he’d said nothing, brushing past him and through the open doorway to the foggy, damp street beyond. She’d climbed into the coach, taking the rear-facing seat, and was buttoning the last few buttons of the jacket to her riding habit as Gideon and Jessica entered and the coach jolted forward.

“Trixie’s her grandmother, too, Gideon,” Jessica said, as if he’d forgotten. “Stop glaring at her.”

“He’s glaring? Just think, all these years I thought that was his usual face.”

Jessica laughed but then slipped her hand into his as the coach turned out of the Square. “Trixie always lands on her feet, Gideon. I don’t know her well, but I’m certain of that much.”

He squeezed her hand in return. “I never should have started this.”

“Never should have started what?” Kate asked him. “And before you open your mouth, remember, I’m not a child.”

“Another time,” he said evasively, grabbing the strap as the coachman made the last turn into Cavendish Square. They’d accomplished the drive in a quarter of the time it would have taken them during the day, with only a few drays and delivery wagons sharing the streets with them. “Let’s just see what we’re facing.”

“All right. But you might want to do something about that rose petal clinging to your left cheek, brother mine.”

Gideon raised his hand to brush away the petal. “There’s nothing there.”

“No. But Jessica’s women spoke with my Sally, so I know there could have been. You’ve just confirmed that for me. Thank you.”

“Pernicious brat,” Gideon commented as Jessica bent her head, hiding her face and, most probably, her flaming cheeks.

The door to the dowager countess’s mansion was opened the moment the coach came to a halt, a wedge of yellowed light cutting through the fog. Gideon bustled the two women out of the coach and quickly hurried them into the foyer.

“Soames?”

The butler inclined his head. “Your lordship, Lady Katherine. Mrs. Linden.”

“No, my countess,” Gideon corrected, looking at the large standing clock in one corner of the foyer, “for the past nearly nine hours. But never mind that now. Where is she?”

“In her boudoir, my lord,” Soames said, his ears going crimson as he shot glances at Jessica and Kate. Really, you’d think the man had passed beyond blushing decades ago. “As is his lordship. You’re to go right up, sir.”

“Remain here,” Gideon ordered the ladies. “Soames, make them some tea or something.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Kate announced. “Jessica? Do you think so?”

“I think you and I are going to be very good friends, Kate. And, no, I don’t plan to remain down here.”

When had he lost control of his life, his air of consequence, his ability to command? Gideon looked down at his clothing, as Soames was looking at him rather strangely, to see that he may have buttoned his waistcoat, but one of his shirttails was hanging loose beneath it. “Bloody hell. All right. But if I tell you to leave, you leave. Understood?”

“Oh, definitely understood,” Jessica said…and then she did the oddest thing. She winked at Kate.

“You’re wasting time, brother mine,” Kate reminded him. “I saw the note. She wrote now.”

And so it was that the trio, all of them now Redgraves, mounted the staircase together, turned and climbed another flight, following Soames, who then pointed them toward the closed double doors to what had to be Trixie’s bedchamber.

He then bowed and said, “Whatever it is we’re to do, it will be done, sir. I’ve ordered the staff to remain in their quarters. I’ll be right here, anticipating your orders.”

“Well, that was ominous,” Jessica whispered as the butler backed away from the doors. “Go on, Gideon. Open it.”

The chamber, one he’d never before visited, was quite large and fronted by an antechamber hung with red velvet draperies. Beyond it, the room opened up considerably, which seemed a pity to him, as none of its furnishings or colors appealed to him. Red, everywhere, red with touches of gold. Move the chamber to Piccadilly, and it would, other than in its sheer size and the cost of the fabrics and furnishings, become quite an inviting bordello. To see such a room here, in the most straitlaced area of Mayfair, was something of a shock.

There was a movement near the fireplace, and Trixie’s barefoot legs appeared, searching for the floor as she uncurled herself from one of the large upholstered chairs positioned there. “There you are,” she said, getting to her feet, her midnight-blue velvet dressing gown tightly tied at her waist, a glass of wine in her hand. “My goodness, are we having a party?” she asked, appearing not at all upset that Gideon had not come here on his own. “Kate, Jessica, how good to see you both. More heads to consult, I suppose.”

She employed the hand clutching the wineglass to gesture toward the large, curtained bed. “Now, what do you propose we should do with that?”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“SON OF A BITCH. Bloody damn son of a bitch…”

Jessica shot a look to Trixie, who was pointedly inspecting the perfectly buffed nails on her left hand, and approached the bed. She didn’t want to look, but Gideon was looking, so she supposed she should be a supporting prop for her husband to lean on, or some such thing.

After all, it was bad enough Kate had plunked herself down in the facing chair halfway through her grandmother’s explanation, laughing so hard she’d been forced to clutch her arms about her waist as she rocked back and forth in the chair, fighting a bout of hiccups. Shy and missish were not words one could ever think to use to describe Lady Katherine Redgrave.

They’d been talking, the marquis and Trixie, nattering of this and that over the late supper Soames had set out, the remains of which were still in evidence. Speaking of this and that, she’d said again, adding as she looked pointedly to Gideon, “And perhaps a few other things.”

She’d thought to tease, flattering the man by kicking off one small slipper and running her silk-clad toes up and down his leg and…well, there was travel involved, and that would be all she’d say. That distraction had done wonders at loosening the man’s tongue.

There came a moment, however, only a moment, when she may have asked too pointed a question, or perhaps given too much away by dint of one of her comments. In any event, the marquis made to leave, which of course he could not do, not in his current mood, one that bordered on suspicion, of all silly things. It was only practical that she…distract him.

The distraction had ended happily, albeit, for the marquis, also permanently.

“He’s really dead?” Jessica asked, looking down at the sheet-covered mound that had until recently been the Marquis of Mellis.

“Oh, yes, he’s dead,” Gideon grumbled. “There’s probably a lot to be said for dogs and fires and snifters of brandy. At least after seventy. Although, as exits go, I suppose it wouldn’t be all that terrible.”

“Excuse me?”

He looked at her and then blinked. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid my mind was wandering. It’s not every day I see a naked nobleman in my grandmother’s bed, alive or dead. In fact, I try not to think about Trixie’s bed in any way or form.”

“I should certainly hope so.” Jessica leaned her head against his upper arm. “He’s rather large, isn’t he? What are we going to do with him?”

Kate, apparently at last recovered from her fit of giggles, was beside them now, also looking down at the mounded sheet. “He can’t stay here. At least not precisely here.” She reached for the edge of the sheet. “Come on, you two, we’ll have to get him dressed.”

Gideon’s hand shot out, his fingers clamping around his sister’s wrist. “There are times, Katherine, when I could cheerfully throttle you. Downstairs. Now. All three of you. And send Soames in here.”

Jessica led the grinning Kate away, and, along with the dowager duchess, they descended to the drawing room where, as they’d been informed by Soames, tea and cakes awaited them.

Jessica was too concerned for Gideon to sit down, but once Trixie had taken up her usual half-reclining position on the one-armed couch, Kate dropped to the floor beside her, to ask, “What happened, Trixie? I mean, what really happened? What first did you do when you realized he’d cocked up his toes?”

Jessica was a matron now, a wife. She should be scolding her sister-in-law for her questions, and searching out some spirits of hartshorn for the dowager countess, as Trixie should by rights be having a fit of the vapors. Since neither action appeared to be required, or indeed looked for, she decided to take up one of the facing chairs and simply listen.

“Naughty puss,” Trixie said, patting Kate’s cheek. “I should be terrified that you’re so like me, were I not so flattered. Now, as to your last question? I didn’t notice. Not at first. I was much too occupied with wondering if drinking those horrid Bath waters truly has some sort of medicinal or restorative effect. I mean, the man was—well, not the man he used to be, surely, but certainly no sluggard.”