The truth was that Giles was, at last, beginning to understand this. At first he had dismissed Clare’s outburst. After all, what he felt for her was a genuine and lasting love. One which had not altered when it alteration found. How was it a fault to hold the younger Clare in his mind, to respond to that innocence and vulnerability?
But he was nothing if not honest with himself. He did not like to think too much of her marriage to Rainsborough. To wonder why she had not sought help. Her family’s help. His help. And once the trial was over, he had wanted to put her husband’s death completely behind them. That was the way he thought about it: her husband’s death, something that had occurred, but did not have a thing to do with Clare. For how could he possibly admit to himself that his Clare, that lovely child and woman that he had loved for years had been found beaten, bruised, soaked in blood, standing over the husband she had shot with his own pistols?
He could feel Sabrina’s concern, but for once did not want to talk to his sister. Somehow their very closeness stood in the way. And she was a woman, after all, with a woman’s view of the matter. He needed someone to help him understand himself and his own confusion.
Therefore, on one of the few occasions Andrew appeared in society, Giles tried to catch a few minutes with him alone, which proved impossible. Lord Avery was out to corner his brother that night, and he was successful in taking up most of Andrew’s time.
Giles finally caught up with him as he was leaving.
“I see your brother has heard about your new client, Andrew,” he teased.
Andrew groaned. “Wants me to drop him immediately, of course. Unheard of ungentlemanly behavior on Grantham’s part. Why would I want to attempt social suicide. It is bad enough that I defended a murderess. I am sorry, Giles. That just slipped out.”
“That is all right. In fact, I need to talk to you about that very subject, Andrew.”
“I beg your pardon, Giles. You mean about Clare? I was only repeating my brother’s ridiculousness. Surely you don’t think I regard Clare that way?”
“No, no, I took no offense. Look, I cannot explain myself now. Will you be in your chambers tomorrow in the early evening? I thought I might stop by on my way to the Carstairs. Or we could go together?”
“I am not showing my face again until this trial is over,” declared Andrew with a laugh. “But I will be there till sevenish, I imagine.”
“All right then,” said Giles. “I will be there.”
* * * *
The next day Giles excused himself from being Clare and Sabrina’s escort to an early musicale, and promised to meet them at the Carstairs’ rout. It had been a clear day, and he dressed for the same sort of evening. By the time he reached Andrew’s chambers, however, a light shower had started, and he was happy to be admitted quickly by Andrew’s clerk.
“Mr. More is just finishing up, my lord. He told me he was expecting you and asked me to offer you something to drink.”
“I would love a glass of sherry,” said Giles as he brushed off his evening jacket.
When Andrew opened his door a few minutes later, he dismissed his clerk and ushered Giles in.
“I see it has started raining, Giles,” he observed as he peered out his window.
“Yes, damn it, and I feel a proper fool. I am to meet Clare and Sabrina later, and if this keeps up, I’ll be more than a bit bedraggled.”
“Don’t worry, I can lend you a greatcoat if it turns into a downpour.”
Andrew’s clerk had placed the decanter of sherry and another glass on Andrew’s desk. “More sherry, Giles?”
“Thank you.”
“Now, what is it you wished to speak to me about?”
Giles hesitated. Now that he was here, it was hard to begin. How could he reveal the intimate secrets of his marriage, even to his close friend?
“From what you said last night, this is about Clare, Giles?” prompted Andrew.
“Yes. Or perhaps it is as much or more about me, Andrew.”
Andrew leaned back in his chair and stretched his feet out under his desk. “I have all the time in the world, Giles, but you, I believe, are due at Lady Carstairs’s rout in an hour or so,” he said with a smile.
“You never liked Clare very much, did you, Andrew.”
“As I’ve told you before, when I first met her, all those years ago ... no. I worried that there was not enough, what shall I say, fire between you? The pattern of your relationship was set so early: she needed to be taken care of; you took care of her. But the contrast between Sabrina’s spiritedness and Clare’s milder nature always struck me.”
“Sabrina is a wonderful woman, Andrew, but I have never wanted anyone exactly like my sister. One Sabrina in his life is enough for any man! Clare was everything to me, almost from that first summer. I liked the fact that she needed me, and I only ever wished for her happiness.”
“Obviously,” Andrew observed with a touch of sarcasm.
“And what do you mean by that?”
“Only that you were so concerned with her happiness that you quite forgot your own. You were so damned understanding about Rainsborough.”
“What choice did I have?”
“You might have fought for yourself. You might have reminded her of your loyalty and love.”
“And have had her marry me out of guilt? That is what it would have been, Andrew. She thought of me only as a friend, and believed I loved her the same way.”
“Because you let her believe that.”
“You can’t dictate passion, Andrew. Justin Rainsborough awakened Clare to the passionate side of her nature. It wasn’t her fault.”
“I don’t blame her, Giles. Or you. I am only pointing out that you let her go very easily.”
Giles’s hand clenched around his glass almost hard enough to snap it. “I know that. Now.”
“Well, you have both changed. When you asked me to defend Clare, I agreed for your sake. But after I spoke with her, I was in it for her sake, too. The woman that I had always thought of as weak and passive has more courage than I will ever claim.”
“Was it courage that kept her with Rainsborough? She returned to his bed, even after his brutal treatment of her. She never asked for help, not even from her parents.”
Andrew sat thoughtfully for a few minutes, sipping his sherry. “I don’t think that either you or I will ever be able to comprehend what those two years were like, Giles. Justin Rainsborough did not only deceive Clare, you know. He deceived the ton. And from what Clare described, I don’t even know if ‘deceived’ is the right word. At the beginning, at least, it seems there were two Justins, both of them real and convincing. Clare loved and responded to the loving husband, who then turned on her. And then turned again.”
Giles rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I don’t know which is hardest for me to accept, Andrew. That Clare loved him and stayed with him. Or ...”
“That she killed him.”
“Yes.”
“It sounds like you are angry that she didn’t act for herself. And appalled that she finally did.”
“She killed a man, Andrew. Not just any man. Her husband.”
“In self-defense. And in your defense, I might add, Giles.”
Giles got up and paced the floor in front of Andrew’s desk.
“I thought that if I married Clare, I could make her forget all of it. Make her happy again.”
“Whom did you marry, Giles? And whom do you love? Clare Whitton, or Clare Dysart whom you loved so many years ago.
Giles turned and looked at Andrew. “Clare asked me the same thing.”
“Do you have an answer?”
“I don’t know. I suppose that is my answer. I don’t know." Giles paused, and then continued in a low voice. “We are no longer sharing a bed. Or much besides the externals of our life together. Perhaps there will never be passion between us, Andrew.”
Andrew was surprised to find himself embarrassed by his friend’s revelations. “I am no expert on married love, Giles. Perhaps you never will. But I am an optimist. I think that when you can really see Clare and love her for who she is ...”
“Could you love someone who killed a man, Andrew?”
“Do you love your father, Giles?”
“Of course. What has that to do with anything?”
“Your father killed many times when he served in the army.”
“That was in a war. If he had not killed, he would have been killed.”
“Giles,” said Andrew almost harshly, “Clare only did the same thing. You wanted her to save herself. How? Divorce? She would have been ruined. Resisting? That only made him worse. In the end she had no choice. The loving husband was gone forever, and in his place was a brutal murderer. The one with blood on his hands was Justin Rainsborough, Giles. He killed their child. He almost killed his wife. Your wife.”
Giles sank back into this chair. “I think I am beginning to see that you and Clare are both right. Yet there is still something in me that does not want to accept it.”
“I am sorry for being so hard on you, Giles. It is much easier for me to see Clare for who she is. I haven’t loved her for years the way you have. Give yourself time.”
“I appreciate your honesty, Andrew. It is what I have most admired about you.” Giles hesitated. “It is part of what Sabrina loves in you, too,” he added.
“Ouch. A hit, Giles.”
“God knows what will happen between Clare and me, Andrew. But there is nothing but your own pride keeping you from Sabrina, from what I can see.”
“Sabrina deserves more, Giles. You could not want your sister to marry a disreputable fellow like myself.”
“I want my sister to be happy, Andrew. To marry where she loves. And she loves you.”
Andrew opened his mouth and then closed it again.
“Oh, don’t try to say anything. Just think about it.” Giles pulled out his watch and glanced out the window. “It has turned into a downpour after all. I will be soaked by the time I find a cab.”
“I have my greatcoat here, Giles. Please take it.”
“No, I can’t. That will leave you to get just as wet.”
“But I am not going to Lady Carstairs’s!” Andrew pulled the coat down from its hook and held it out.
Giles looked down at his evening clothes and gave in. “All right. And thank you, Andrew. For everything.”
Andrew helped him into the greatcoat, and Giles pulled the collar up around his ears.
“Good luck, Giles. I wish you and Clare the happiness you both deserve.”
Giles smiled and waved his hand, sinking his head as far down into the collar as he could, so that he felt like a turtle; then he stepped out into the rain. His eyes were on the wet cobblestones as he walked along, trying to avoid the deepest puddles. His evening pumps would be like wet paper in a minute, he thought, completely unaware of the two men who had emerged from the alley next to Andrew’s chambers. He looked up and saw what appeared to be a hansom cab only a block away.
Odd, he thought, that is not a regular cabstand, and then, before he even knew what was happening, a chloroform-soaked rag was thrust into his face, and he was being grabbed from behind in what felt like a vise. He struggled with his assailants, managing to drive an elbow back into what felt like a slack belly. He was almost free when the drug overwhelmed him and he slumped in the arms of his captors.
* * * *
After Giles left him, Andrew went back to the briefs his solicitor had prepared for him, but found himself unable to concentrate. His conversation with Giles kept intruding upon his consciousness, and from time to time he would sit back in his chair and find himself wondering if there was anything he could possibly do to help with the situation. It was also impossible to dismiss Giles’s comments about Sabrina. Was he being foolishly honorable? Was he truly protecting Sabrina from marrying beneath her or was he afraid to take the risk of marrying above himself? Had he rejected her love because he did not want to be considered a kind of fortune hunter?
After an hour of accomplishing nothing, he slammed his leather portfolio closed and decided that he would go to the Carstairs'. At the very least, he could lighten some of the tension between Clare and Giles. And secure a waltz with Sabrina. Perhaps holding her in his arms again would clarify things?
His rooms were not above his chambers, but on Half Moon Street, and it took him awhile to get a hansom in the rain. He was therefore one of the last to arrive, and in the crush, it took him awhile to find Clare.
She was standing in a small group that included Lucy Kirkman and his own brother, and when he lightly touched her shoulder as he came up behind her, she turned quickly with an eager smile on her face. When she saw who it was, however, her smile faded.
“Surely my face is not that unwelcome, Clare,” Andrew teased.
“Oh, Andrew, I am sorry. It is only that I thought you were Giles.”
Andrew looked around. “What, is he lingering on the dance floor with some pretty young thing, Clare?”
“He has not arrived at all, and I am beginning to worry,” Clare answered. “He is always prompt, you know that. Sabrina and I came directly from the musicale. He was to join us here, because he had some business to take care of.”
Andrew frowned. “He was with me earlier in the evening. But that was almost two hours ago. I understood him to say he was coming directly here.”
Clare’s face became pale and worried.
“Now, now, I am sure there is nothing to worry about, Lady Whitton,” said Andrew’s brother. “I am sure there is a logical explanation, isn’t there, Andrew?"
“He left in the middle of the worst of the downpour. He would have had a bit of a walk to a cabstand. Perhaps he got too wet and went home to change, Clare. That would explain the delay.”
Clare’s face brightened.
“Although I loaned him my greatcoat,” Andrew continued, his voice trailing off as a sudden, horrifying idea occurred to him.
“What is it, Andrew?” Clare asked.
“Oh, nothing, nothing. I am sure Giles will be here any minute, Clare. If he is not, I will go to Grosvenor Square and inquire after him. He could just have the headache after all.”
"But then he would have sent a message to us, Andrew,” said Sabrina, who had just joined them in time to overhear the last exchange.
“I think you should wait another half hour at least before you concern yourselves,” said Lucy. “Who knows, Giles might have stopped off at his club first.” The musicians were striking up a waltz, and Lord Avery said: “I believe this is our dance, Miss Kirkman?”
Clare’s partner also claimed her, and Andrew and Sabrina were left alone.
“I have a feeling that all is not well with Giles,” said Sabrina in a worried voice.
“Is this the famous intuition of a twin?” said Andrew lightly.
“Do not try to tease me out of it, Andrew. You know we are always very much attuned to one another’s emotions. Remember the summer Giles broke his arm when you were both out riding?”
Andrew remembered. They had returned home, Giles’s arm in a makeshift sling, to find Sabrina pacing at the front door, with John Coachman ready to summon the doctor. Sabrina had been driven almost distracted by experiencing Giles’s suffering and being helpless to do anything.
“To tell you the truth, Sabrina, I am a little worried myself.” Andrew hesitated. “Do you have a partner for this dance?”
“Yes. No. I can’t even remember,” said Sabrina, distractedly searching her card.
“Let me partner you then, and I promise if Giles has not arrived by the time the music stops, we will go looking for him.”
Sabrina allowed herself to be led out onto the floor. She was so concerned for her brother, however, that she couldn’t relax until halfway through the dance, when she finally realized that she had said nothing to Andrew, who had laced his fingers through hers as though to comfort her with the extra closeness.
When she finally looked up into his face, she was touched by the warmth and concern she saw there.
“What did Giles come to see you about, Andrew?”
“He wanted my advice on a personal matter,” responded Andrew.
“You mean he is finally waking up to the fact that he must do something about his marriage?”
“I was trying to respect his privacy, Sabrina,” said Andrew with a rueful smile. “But I might have known that you would go right to the heart of it.”
“I hope you gave him good advice.”
“And what would that be, Sabrina?”
“That he love his wife for who she is and not what he thought her to be.”
“Then we are of one mind, my dear,” said Andrew, smiling down at her.
The waltz ended and as he led her off the floor, Andrew said meaningfully: “Giles gave me some advice, too.”
She looked up at him quickly, wondering just what kind of advice Andrew would have sought from her brother. She was about to ask, hoping against hope that Andrew’s tone and the expression on his face meant that it was advice on a matter of the heart, when she saw Clare standing alone at the edge of the dance floor.
“Where is your partner, Clare?”
“I sent him off to get me a glass of punch. Sabrina, it has been over two hours now and Giles has not come. I can’t stand here worrying. I must go home and see if he is there.”
Sabrina took Clare’s hands in hers and turned to Andrew. “Clare is right, Andrew. If Giles were sick or even if he lingered at his club, he would have sent us a message. Will you escort us home?”
“Of course.”
* * * *
The two women were silent on the ride to Grosvenor Square, and Andrew sat there, trying to convince himself that they would find Giles in the library of his town house or having retired with a headache. The other possibility that had come to mind at the rout was far too disturbing to think about. But when they reached Grosvenor Square and inquired of the butler and Giles’s valet, they were told that Lord Whitton had not returned to the house that evening.
“He told me he was going directly to the rout, and he dressed accordingly,” said the valet. “He would have had no reason to come back here.”
“Henley, please get us a decanter of brandy and three glasses, and bring it to the drawing room,” requested Andrew.
“The fire is banked there, sir. May I suggest the library?”
Andrew led Clare and Sabrina up the stairs and sat them down upon the sofa. Now that they knew Giles was not here, he was becoming convinced that his suspicions about his friend’s disappearance were on the mark, but he didn’t want to say anything until the brandy arrived.
When the butler knocked on the door, Andrew called him in and had him put the tray down on Giles’s desk.
“Henley, will you send a footman to Lord Whitton’s club? There is still a chance that his lordship stopped there and lost all sense of time.”
“I don’t drink brandy,” said Clare when Andrew offered her a glass.
“You might need it, Clare,” he said with a sympathetic smile.
Clare took a sip and almost choked as the liquor burned its way down her throat.
“One more swallow before we talk, Clare,” encouraged Andrew.
Clare had to admit, as she took a second and then a third sip, that at least the brandy was warming her and that her stomach felt unclenched for the first time in hours.
Andrew tossed back his own brandy and pulled a chair up in front of the two women.
“I think you have an idea where Giles is, Andrew,” said Sabrina, turning her glass around and around and watching the amber liquid swirl against the crystal.
Clare glanced at Sabrina in surprise. “Why, how would Andrew know?”
Andrew cleared his throat. “I have recently been brought on to a very interesting case, Clare. I am going to act the prosecutor for a young man who is taking several very powerful criminals to court.”
Both women frowned. “Whatever has that got to do with Giles, Andrew?” demanded Sabrina.
“Nothing. In fact, I think Giles’s disappearance has more to do with me than himself. If I win this case, four men who are the proprietors of a gaming hell could go to prison. They have already offered my young client a bribe three times the amount of his losses.”
“This young man is suing over a gambling debt,” asked Sabrina, unbelievingly.
“Yes. And let us save our discussion of what is done and not done for another time, shall we?”
Clare looked over at Andrew, understanding at last dawning. “You loaned Giles your greatcoat, Andrew. That is what you told us.”
He nodded. “Giles left my office with the collar pulled up around his ears. If they did not see him go in, but only got there when my clerk left, well, they would naturally have no reason to think that anyone but Andrew More would be coming out.”
“And so they, whoever they are, think they have kidnapped Andrew More,” said Clare slowly. “But instead they have Lord Whitton.”
“I knew he was in danger,” whispered Sabrina, reaching out to clasp Clare’s hand.
“But they will let him go as soon as they discover they have the wrong man,” said Clare. “Won’t they?”
“When is this trial, Andrew?” Sabrina asked.
“Not for four days.”
“So they kidnapped you ... Giles, so that this young man would have to bring the case forward himself. And most likely lose.”
“He is a student at Inner Temple. But you are right, Sabrina, it is likely they didn’t want an experienced barrister representing him.”
Andrew was happy that both women were only talking of kidnapping. He hoped Messrs. Oldfield et al. were not foolish enough to attempt anything more serious. If they were desperate men, Giles could be lying dead in some alley, a possibility he certainly would not suggest to Giles’s wife or sister.