CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The morning of Gage’s thirty-fourth birthday dawned grim and dreary, but I was not going to let that keep me from making his day as enjoyable as possible. I would be glad I ensured it began in such an agreeable way, for I would have no control over everything that came later.

We still lay in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms pleasantly dozing, when someone rapped on the bedchamber door. I yawned and lifted the sheets to be certain I was sufficiently covered while Gage pulled his dressing gown over his broad shoulders. After our disagreeable visitor the night before, we’d elected to lock all the doors and place chairs under the handles. This meant the hearth was still cold, for the maid could not enter to tend it, but that was a small price to pay for peace of mind. It simply meant we had to rely on each other for heat.

He removed the chair and unlocked the door to admit Bree, who hovered uncertainly near the door, glancing back and forth between us. Such timidity was not normal for her, and I sat up straighter, puzzled by her reaction. A closer look at her face made my heart begin to beat faster.

“What is it? What’s happened?”

“’Tis Lord Tavistock.” She turned to Gage. “He’s taken a turn for the worse.”

Gage turned on his heel and strode toward the connecting door while I scrabbled for my dressing gown.

“Anderley’s waitin’ for ye,” she called after him.

I hurried over to the dressing table. “Help me dress. Something simple,” I ordered her.

Ten minutes later, we reached the corridor outside his grandfather’s bedchamber only to find Alfred and the dowager badgering a footman to let them enter.

“I’m sorry. Mr. Hammett gave me strict instructions that no one was to enter until the physician finished his examination. Not even family.”

“This is an outrage,” Lady Langstone protested. “Since when does a butler issue orders that supersede the wishes of the family?”

“Be calm, Mother,” Alfred drawled, leaning back against the wall opposite the door. “I’m sure Hammett’s only following Grandfather’s instructions or the physician’s request. After all, who wants a woman pacing back and forth, flapping her arms while you’re trying to do an examination?”

I felt quite certain this was meant to be directed at his mother and not women in general. In either case, the insult hit its mark.

“I do no such thing,” she snapped. “But I would make certain this physician is doing a thorough job.”

I suspected she must have already been up for hours. What else explained her perfectly turned-out appearance and elaborate hairstyle at such an unsocial hour? Alfred, on the other hand, looked as if he might never have been to bed. At the least, the dark circles under his eyes and wrinkled clothing spoke of a restless night and hasty dressing.

He was opening his mouth to make another quip when the bedchamber door opened. We all swung about to hear what the brawny man dressed in a rough coat had to say. However, Lady Langstone seemed intent on slipping past, until Hammett closed the door firmly, standing in its way.

The physician didn’t look much like one expected a medical man to appear, even a country one, nor did he sound like one. But I had no doubt he must have been competent. Lord Tavistock was not the sort of man to suffer fools gladly, and even without a great deal of medical knowledge he would have recognized slapdash practicing.

“Lord Tavistock’s illness has worsened,” the physician pronounced in a gruff voice with little inflection. “The ague has settled into his lung tissue, inflaming them and making it difficult for him to breathe. He needs rest and little excitement.” His gaze swung toward Alfred. “Which I understand there’s been a great deal of in the past few weeks.”

“Will he recover?” Gage asked anxiously.

“If he were a younger man, perhaps. But at his age, it’s not expected.”

Gage nodded, his mask of indifference carefully in place, but when I offered him my hand, he gripped it tightly.

“May we see him?” Lady Langstone intoned in a manner that wasn’t really a question but a demand.

The physician shared a glance with Hammett. “Only if he wishes to see you. And only if you do not rile him. As I said, he needs peace and quiet.” He nodded to us all. “I’ll stop by again this evening. Send for me if I’m needed before then.”

Before the physician had even turned the corner, following the footman who was to show him out, Lady Langstone stood toe to toe with Hammett.

“I will see him.”

Hammett drew himself up to his full height and dignity. “I’m sorry, my lady, but he’s already said he doesn’t wish to see you. Not just now,” he added, softening the sting he must have seen his words had caused her. His eyes shifted over her shoulder. “He’s asking for his grandsons, Lord Langstone and Mr. Gage.”

Gage’s hold on my hand tightened and then released as he stepped forward. He and Alfred shared a look filled with mutual apprehension.

“I want to see him,” Lady Langstone repeated. Her voice was so brittle I thought it might crack.

Hammett shook his head. “I’m sorry, my lady.”

She huffed and spun about to stride off down the corridor. I watched her go. Didn’t the others realize she was masking her hurt at the viscount’s refusal to see her with anger? I turned back to find Hammett studying me as he shuffled to the side to usher Gage and Alfred into the bedchamber. The look in his eyes made me recall our previous conversation and the things he’d said about her. Before I could reconsider, I set off down the corridor after her, lifting my pomona green skirts in my haste to catch her up.

She was about to turn another corner, headed toward I knew not where, when I called her name. Her steps halted abruptly as she glared over her shoulder at me.

“What is this?” she sniffed, arching her chin upward. “Come to gloat?”

But all of her venomous disdain could not hide the gleam of tears in her eyes.

“No, my lady,” I replied gently. “I merely wanted to know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “For me?” she snarled.

“Yes. After all, Lord Tavistock is your family, too. You’ve lived with him for over thirty-five years, and served as his hostess since Lady Tavistock died. This must be difficult for you as well.”

She stared at me in shock and then almost in horror as her bottom lip began to quiver. “I-I can’t . . .” she choked and spun away, continuing to walk in the same direction she’d been headed. But now her steps were more of a stagger.

I followed her uncertainly, not wanting to leave her alone, but unsure of my welcome. When she pushed through a door, leaving it open as she went inside, I decided she wanted me to join her.

I’d not yet explored this room, for it had been locked, and now I understood why. It was a tiny stone chapel adorned with stained glass windows and an altar arranged with gold holy objects. A handful of wooden pews lined the floor, their surfaces polished to a sheen that was evident even in the dim light. I smelled the lemon wax.

Lady Langstone sat on one of the benches, her head bowed. But from the manner in which her shoulders shook I realized she wasn’t praying. Or, at least, not only praying. I slid into the pew next to her, offering up my own silent prayer for Lord Tavistock, Rory, and the entire family as I waited for her to speak.

She sniffed and then dabbed at her eyes as she inhaled a quivering breath. “I’ve been a good hostess for him, you know. And a good mother. I’ve seen to everything with nary a word of complaint. And what thanks do I receive? A son who sneers at me and a father-in-law who won’t even . . .” She hiccupped on a sob. “Who won’t even see me on his deathbed.” Her voice constricted with tears again as she broke off.

I moved closer, silently offering her what comfort she would take.

“I’ve given them everything,” she murmured breathlessly. “I could have remarried, you know. Even to this day, I still receive offers. Instead, I chose to devote myself to my sons and the Tavistock estate. Fool, I’ve been.” She snapped open her handkerchief and then folded it again and again, as if she could straighten her tangle of emotions like she could the piece of cloth.

“I can’t blame you for feeling hurt and angry,” I replied. “I would be, too. But perhaps Lord Tavistock will ask to see you later.”

She scoffed.

“Perhaps he merely felt an urgency to speak to his grandsons first.”

She shook her head. “Lord Tavistock has never been fond of me. He approved of my marriage to his son well enough because I came from a good family and I comported myself perfectly. My parents made certain of that,” she added almost under her breath. “But he has never liked me. Not with anything that comes close to the affection he showed his own daughters, particularly Emma.” She spat Gage’s mother’s name as if she’d just bitten into something sour.

“Why did you dislike her so?” I had to ask, not understanding this extreme animosity to her sister-in-law.

“Because she always did as she very well pleased, regardless of anyone else’s feelings, and yet no one else seemed to see that. Or if they did, they never reproved her for it.” She gestured toward the door. “Even her own son, who suffered the most because of it, still believes she was this blameless, perfect woman ruled by elements out of her control. Her poisoning at the hands of her maid only underlined that image.”

“Well that was certainly out of her control.”

“Was it?” she challenged. “She brought that incompetent girl with her from Plymouth and kept her on rather than let her go. She could have given her a good reference. One that would have helped her easily find a position elsewhere. But she didn’t, because it suited her to be coddled and thought generous. When she first moved back here, her illness was never terrible enough to prevent her from doing the things she wanted to—attending dinner parties and local soirees, or traveling on shopping excursions to Plymouth and Exeter. It wasn’t until later, I suppose when her maid had begun dosing her with poison, that it truly afflicted her in any way. Unless she was deluding herself as well, she would have noted the change.”

I had no idea if any of this was true or simply the vitriol of a spiteful, resentful woman, but it said much about the state of affairs here at Langstone when Gage was growing up.

“You were jealous of the others’ blind devotion to her,” I remarked lightly, coming to the crux of the matter.

“Of course I was. She insisted on marrying Stephen Gage, despite her family’s wishes. Got herself with child just to insure it would happen. Only to realize after she moved to Plymouth what life would really be like as the wife of an officer of the Royal Navy while the country was at war. This was before Gage made his fortune. She lasted all of three years before she came crawling home, blaming her illness when the truth was she simply couldn’t stand it anymore. I suppose she also recognized what that life would mean for her son—shipped off to sea at a tender age,” she begrudgingly admitted. “But that was only a secondary consideration.” She scowled, clenching her hands in her skirts. “She did all this and more, and yet Lord Tavistock still adored her.” She sounded as if she just couldn’t fathom such a thing. Such unconditional love.

I felt a pulse of sympathy for her. “I take it your parents were not like that.”

She stared blankly ahead. “One did as one was told, to perfection. And if you were lucky, they told you they were pleased.”

I wanted to ask her about her marriage to Emma’s brother, whether he had loved her, but I didn’t dare. There were certain things an acquaintance didn’t encroach upon, and that was one. However, there was one thing I was willing to risk broaching.

“But I suppose Emma Gage got her just deserts when her husband attempted to initiate a relationship with you? You must have relished informing her of his infidelity.”

Lady Langstone’s mouth pressed into a thin line and I wondered if she would actually tell me the truth or continue to choke it down like bitter medicine. Then she exhaled, almost in resignation. “No. I never told her. Because . . .” She turned to look at me as if facing her own execution. “Stephen Gage wasn’t the only one who wrote letters.”

“But I thought you despised him?”

“I did.” She frowned. “Or it was more I despised the fact that Emma had married someone of such a lower rank and little fortune and not been ostracized for it. But Stephen Gage was a very attractive man and extremely charming, even to one such as me.” She stared down at her lap where she fiddled with her handkerchief. “And I was lonely. It was after my husband died, and I felt so very . . . unwanted at times here. At first, I was shocked by his flirtation. But then I began to flirt back, and I enjoyed it.” She blushed either in remembrance or shame. “I knew it was wrong, but . . .” She shrugged.

But she felt isolated and unloved, and here was her chance to perhaps take some of that affection Emma received with so little effort, and perhaps even less appreciation.

“We began to exchange letters. Webley acted as our go-between when Gage was here. And she mailed my letters and collected the ones he sent to an abandoned cottage at the edge of the estate after he’d gone back to sea.”

“How long did this go on?”

“The better part of seven months. And then . . . and then he returned to Langstone on his next leave.”

“Is that when you met in the emerald chamber?” I ventured to ask.

She blinked at me in surprise. Perhaps I shouldn’t have revealed I knew as much. I could see a dozen questions forming in her mind, but she didn’t ask them. Perhaps because she didn’t wish to know.

“Yes. He convinced me we should meet. Before that we hadn’t . . . I hadn’t . . .” She cleared her throat. “He said he wanted more than words from me, so I agreed to meet him.” She paused. “I suppose you already know about the secret passage?”

I nodded.

Her voice dropped practically to a whisper, perhaps because we sat in the chapel. It must have felt rather like a confession. “Well, he entered that way, finding me waiting for him, as requested, though I had half a mind not to come.” She clasped her hands together, the knuckles turning white. “I should have listened to my conscience, for when he arrived, he threw the entire affair in my face.” Her cheeks burned with remembered indignation. “It had all been a ruse, retribution for my treatment of his wife.”

Shock radiated through me, for I’d not foreseen such an explanation for Lord Gage’s actions. In my defense, Lord Gage had never given me any reason to think well of him. So imagining him as a philandering husband had fit my already negatively formed opinion of him. But apparently I was wrong. Apparently he had loved his wife, though I was sure guilt over his continual absence might have also played some part.

Nevertheless, to enact his revenge in such a cruel, protracted way, and on a woman who was so vulnerable? It was difficult to fathom such malice. Lady Langstone had certainly deserved a stern set down, but not that.

She must have sensed my uneasiness, for she met my gaze solemnly. “You should understand just what sort of man your father-in-law is. If you have his loyalty, then you have nothing to fear. But otherwise . . .”

She didn’t need to finish that sentence, for I already felt the chill of the possibilities.

We turned to stare at the altar, perhaps both reeling from the implications of our conversation.

“There’s one more thing that confuses me,” I murmured.

“His letters?” she guessed. “Why did I keep them?”

“Yes.”

“For leverage. He told me he would be keeping mine to ensure I remained civil to his wife, and so that if I ever showed anyone his letters he would have a counter.”

“And then Alfred found them,” I surmised.

“Yes.” Her gaze turned wary. “Are you going to tell Lord Gage about them?”

“I’m not going to tell him anything,” I admitted with full honesty.

She exhaled in relief, and then straightened again. “What about Sebastian?”

I considered what, if anything, I should reveal to her that Gage already knew. It seemed unnecessarily unkind to tell her he already suspected the affair. I fully expected she assumed my claim during our last conversation had been a bluff. However, I did think Gage should know the truth about what he’d seen all those years ago. He needed to know his father had not been conducting an affaire de coeur with his aunt under his mother’s very nose. But perhaps, in this case, a bit of deceit was in order.

“Are you going to quit treating him like he’s the scourge of the earth?” I countered. “After all, he’s done nothing to offend you except draw breath.”

“You’re right,” she admitted. I was surprised to hear genuine remorse in her voice. “I can treat him better. I will.”

I met her gaze, letting her know I would hold her to that. “Then Gage never need know,” I replied, crossing my fingers behind my back.