The following Sunday brought no repeat of their morning idyll, for today was their public debut. Pasting on his smile, Lewis joined Anna and the entire Redfern household at church. As Mrs. Redfern herded the rest of her flock inside, they shook hands with the Wedburys on the church steps, lingering a few minutes to chat. All part of the script.
Gideon had never been part of it. They had thought his role complete long ago, Lewis’s father and town gossip the only villains remaining.
But despite his disgust last evening at the mention of church, here came Gideon, robed in charm and arrogance, his parents trailing happily in his wake. His grin spread over the whole churchyard as he doffed his hat here, exchanged laughing words there. Young or old, the ladies preened, while their husbands pretended not to notice, all handshakes and delight. As long as Lewis could remember it had been that way.
Gideon didn’t hesitate when he reached the bottom of the steps. They turned and made for the doorway, but he spread his arms wide as if he were their shepherd. It must have appeared that they’d been waiting for his arrival.
He contrived a seat with the Wedburys by the simple expedient of squeezing himself in between Lady Wedbury and the arm of the pew. Unless she wanted a scene, she must either make room, or let him sit in her lap. At least he could not aggravate Cassie.
Lewis was glad to sit behind them with Anna, enjoying the feel of her leg pressed against his, one hand tucked into the crook of his elbow while the other stayed warm inside the otter-skin muff he’d given her.
After the service he led Anna through another round of introductions. Philip Dusseau, whose wife she had already met. Lord Ryndale’s nephew and heir. Elaine Maxwell’s disapproving father, Jeannine Calderwood and her sister-in-law. Miss Loomis, gossip and matchmaker of Wrackwater Bridge, examined her as they spoke and hurried off to proclaim her opinions to everyone else in the church yard. The smiles that followed behind her were surely a good sign. When they closed the front door of the vicarage behind them, Anna’s sigh of relief echoed his own.
Later, when Anna had fed the baby, Lewis took her for dinner at the Wedburys’, the two of them and half the town. They arrived a little early so Anna could meet the new Jack in relative privacy. He strutted up to them in the hall even before she’d removed her new pelisse, pumping her hand in vigorous welcome. Lewis winced, hoping her bones would survive.
“Yes, I remember you! Danced with you, I remember that too. Goddammit, you’re pretty, Lewis always said so. Glad he got you in the end. Much better than that—”
“Yes, Jumping Jack,” came a drawl from behind them. “You may sing my praises another time.”
Anna had been eyeing Jack, her lips quirked upward in amusement—now Lewis felt her stiffen, heard her sharp inhalation. Damn Gideon. He was supposed to be at home, or swilling gin in some tavern far away, or lying in a ditch with an axe in his head.
Jack glowered. “What are you doing here? You weren’t invited.”
Ignoring him, Gideon offered Anna his arm toward the drawing room. While she hesitated, he filled the awkward silence. “You two took your time getting here. You must have stopped to do some plowing.”
Lewis grabbed hold of his cravat and hissed in his face. “Keep your ugly thoughts to yourself, damn you.”
“Ugly? Nothing ugly about what I was thinking, dear boy. I had a piece my—”
Lewis gave the cravat a wrench and twisted it tight. “Don’t say it.”
“Or what? You’ll knock my teeth out?” Gideon managed to sound terribly normal, even had that sneer in his voice. “You tried that already. Only loosened one, and it’s good as new.” He showed Lewis his front teeth and tapped on the one that shouldn’t have been there.
Lewis glared at it, longing to shove it down his brother’s filthy throat. But he couldn’t do it in Sir John’s entry hall with guests arriving at any time.
“Lewis,” Anna pleaded, tugging on his other arm.
He couldn’t do it in front of her, either.
“Lewis,” Gideon mocked. “Can’t even have a friendly argument if there’s a lady around. Though I’m not certain this one qualifies—”
Lewis screwed the cravat tighter. “Shut your mouth,” he said, quiet and clear. “And stay the hell away from my wife.”
Gideon’s gurgle brought some satisfaction. Lewis released him with a shove.
“I’ll fight him, Lewis,” said Jack, dancing alongside in his enthusiasm. “Maggot says I’m getting good.”
“God forbid,” Gideon muttered, untying his cravat as he stalked off toward the rear of the house. “Boxing with a planet-struck idiot.”
Lewis fumed, but Anna laid both hands on his chest to hold him in place. “No, Lewis. It’s what he wants.”
She was right, of course. He would have to be content that Gideon stumbled over the edge of a rug, nearly falling, and did not reappear for dinner. Sir John had thrown him out.
Past nine o’clock that evening, the footman knocked on Lewis’s bedroom door.
“Two gentlemen to see you. I’ve put them in the morning room.”
Who in hell…?
In the morning room, two greatcoats inspected the cold fireplace, backs to the door. Two heads, one dark, one blond. They turned as Lewis came in.
“Good God,” Lewis said, staring. “What are you doing in the wilds of Yorkshire? Did the man not take your coats?” He hurried forward as he spoke, shaking Lindale’s hand and then Captain Fuller’s.
“Thought I’d better keep it. It’s cold as a witch’s tit,” Fuller groused. “At least it’s not snowing in here.”
“I hope you’re not counting on rooms at the house. I’m not in a position to offer them, and anyway, Gideon’s here.”
Fuller shook his head. “Not right now, he’s not. Gave us a few bad moments at the inn, let me tell you. There we are, standing in the hall plain as day, when in he strolls. I hid my face faster ’n you can say blast-your-eyes. He went into the taproom ’n we snuck out.”
“But I assume he’s the reason you came. Why not get it over with?”
“I figured Cass was safe enough here, until he disappeared. When I found out he’d gone home too, I got some leave. But I ain’t ready to tackle him yet, not until I know how matters stand.”
Lewis turned to Lindale. “And you? I’ve seen you shudder at the very thought of winter.”
Lindale shrugged. “I thought you might need a groomsman.”
Lewis grasped his shoulder. “I’m hoping Jack is up to the job, but it’s not a sure bet. All depends on what kind of day he’s having. But I can use some friends, in any event.”
“When is the wedding, again?”
“A week yet. Come upstairs where we can talk. It isn’t much, but there’s a fire in the grate and most of a bottle of rye. No, not the one you gave me, Lindale, that’s long gone.”
It didn’t take long to outline Gideon’s assorted villainies. “His behavior toward Cassie looks like courtship, but he’s serving it with a side-dish of hostility. And he can’t manage to keep his forked tongue off Anna.”
Lindale frowned. “Odd that a man who’s apparently charmed his way up the skirts of so many women—begging your pardon, Aubrey—should have such a hard time charming Miss Wedbury into marriage.”
“Not so odd,” Lewis countered, shaking his head. “Unlike the others, Cassie’s known him all her life. He should have started charming her in the cradle. She also knows he got Anna with child and left her to rot. Plus, she’s head over heels for Fuller.”
The captain’s eyes bored into him. “Is she? Has she said anything?”
“In Bath. Said she missed you…awfully was the word, I believe. She was crying.”
“Do I have a chance, Aubrey? Will you put in a good word for me with Sir John and Lady W?”
Lewis shrugged. “I have no say in the matter. Were it up to me, I wouldn’t hesitate, especially with Gideon hanging about playing Adonis and Beelzebub by turns. They might give you their blessing just to be rid of him.”
A gleam of hope shone in the captain’s eyes. “Well then. I mean to try my hand tomorrow, assuming the snow ain’t up to my arse.”
“You’ll never make it as a Dalesman if you can’t get through snow up to your arse.”
“Oh, I plan on moving Cassie down south. Think she’ll go?”
Lewis wrinkled his nose. “Yes. But we’d miss her too much, Anna and I.”
Fuller laughed as though it were a joke.