Jade Lee - [Bridal Favors 03] (16 page)

“How long has the madness been back?”

Grant started, then cursed. Of course his brother would ask about that. No one knew about the voice in his head. Not even Robert. But he had once—many years ago—told his little brother. He tried to answer. His throat worked, but his mouth didn’t. And when he tried to make a sound, it only came out as a strangled grunt.

Then Irene stepped in. Irene of the long legs and the soft voice. Irene who didn’t understand the truth, but nevertheless, had the answer he needed. She took his arm and gently pulled him back. Not far. Just enough so that she could step up and face his brother. In fact, he belatedly realized, it was in much the same position as Miss Powel had taken beside Will.

“He’s not mad, Mr. Benton. He thinks… well, we all think, uh, fear…” She grimaced then took a deep breath. “Grant was attacked two nights ago by a man who meant to do murder.”

Miss Powel gasped and pressed her hand to her mouth. She’d known about the attack, but they’d called the perpetrator a “footpad” in the dress shop. Meanwhile, Will’s eyes widened, and his gaze jumped to Grant’s looking for confirmation.

“It’s true,” he said quietly. “And so we started asking who would want me dead.”

Suddenly, Will’s eyes blazed fury. It was less than a heartbeat between Grant’s statement and his brother’s reaction as the man processed the information and leaped ahead to the correct conclusion.

“Bloody hell!” he spat. His hands clenched into fists, and he looked like he might very well murder someone right then.

Grant took hold of Irene and forcibly pushed her aside. If it came to blows, he wanted her safely out of the way. But that one action infuriated Will all the more.

“You think I’m going to hurt her? You think I’d try to kill you?” The words weren’t shouted. It would have been better if they were. Instead they were hoarse and low, as if strangled, as they came out of his mouth. Meanwhile, Miss Powel was stepping forward.

“He’d never do that! How could you even think it?” she cried.

“He doesn’t want to,” answered Robert quietly. “He doesn’t want to believe it.”

Meanwhile, Will was looking around at the cozy inn parlor, at the table set for six. “Is that why we’re here? Instead of at the Lawton’s home? So you could confront me in private?”

Grant nodded, somewhat startled that he could still move in the face of his brother’s righteous anger. And yet, even now with his brother ready to deck him, he couldn’t stop the questions: was this an act? Was it all to cover his crime?

Will must have seen the doubt in his face. Or maybe the reality of the situation was hitting him—hard and right in the gut. The man curled in on himself, his fists planting on his hips.

“I didn’t do it, Grant. Good God, I can’t even imagine thinking it!”

Meanwhile, his fiancée would not be deterred. “I don’t understand. He got to London today. How could he have attacked you two nights ago?”

Irene touched the girl’s arm, pulling her back when she might have stepped between the two brothers. “The attacker was hired by someone.”

“But Will wasn’t even here.”

“I was here,” he rasped out. “Weeks ago, looking for him.”

“But… but that was weeks ago!”

“And I left messages everywhere, hoping he would contact me. Don’t you see, Josephine? He thinks I hired someone to kill him when he finally turned up.”

The woman’s mouth flattened into an angry line and then she rounded on Grant. “But that’s stupid!” she spat. “In fact, in a world of ridiculously stupid, that is the most obviously, blatantly stupid thing ever!”

It was at that moment Grant finally believed. It made no logical sense. Any man who contemplated murder could easily dupe this innocent woman. But something in her rock solid faith in Will put his mind at ease.

But just in case, he focused on his brother and repeated the offer with calm sincerity. “I will give up the title, Will. I mean that. You’re the better man anyway.”

“The devil you will!” That came from Will, the words gratifyingly vehement.

Meanwhile, Robert had his own exclamation. “You will not!”

Then before anyone could say more, Will straightened to his full height. He wasn’t quite as tall as Grant, but he was solid and strong from hard farmwork. And from building a canal.

“I won’t deny I’ve wished for your title, Grant. Hard enough courting her as a steward. At least with a title, I’d have gotten a second look from her father.”

Grant snorted. “Not Lawton, you wouldn’t. He’s damned all us Crowles—”

“From the beginning. Yes, I’m aware.” He paused, his expression tightening into a frown. “But I’ve never wished you harm, Grant. Far from it. I wanted you to get sober. To think instead of gamble. To—”

“Not burn down the barn?”

Will snorted, an identical sound to his brother’s. “Well, yes, I could have done without that. But that only proved that you’re the right man for the title.”

Grant laughed, the sound tight and cut off, but it was still a laugh. Not surprisingly, no one else in the room understood the joke. Looking at the others in the room, he explained. “Every Lord Crowle for generations has done one thing in his life that is remembered for generations. One single event that becomes attached to his name forever.”

Taking up the tale, Will curled his arm around his fiancée and started talking. “It is known throughout the counties as the Crowle Stupidity. One event that is extraordinarily dumb. I,” he added with some measure of pride, “have never done a Crowle Stupidity.”

Grant raised his empty glass to the room. “I burned down our barn on the day of our sister’s wedding.”

“You didn’t!” Irene cried.

Robert’s voice was a low rumble. “He did. I was there and helped douse the ashes so it wouldn’t spread to the house.”

“And I,” continued Will, “kept it from the woods.”

“And I,” said Grant, “crawled into those same woods and hoped to die from the shame.”

Irene smiled, her expression not in the least bit horrified. “However did it happen?”

Grant shook his head. That was not an easy answer. He’d have to explain gypsies and fire-blowing and all the ridiculous choices he’d once thought were a good ideas. But before he could even frame an answer, his brother spoke.

“I never saw him again until tonight. We thought he’d died, but Robert here brought us the news that he’d survived.” There was a hard edge to the words, an old anger that apparently hadn’t cooled.

Grant acknowledged it with a sad shrug. “You really didn’t expect me to volunteer to return, did you?”

Will was quiet a long time, but in the end, he shook his head. “No, I suppose not. I found out the next day that you had sold everything.”

“Not me. Father.”

“And then, you were gone.”

Grant looked away. Yes, he’d disappeared. Off to the mill, and he’d lived there nearly every day since. Will stepped forward, his hand open this time as he touched his brother’s shoulder.

“Where did you go, Grant? What have you been doing all this time?”

Grant looked at Irene and Robert. Those two knew the truth. How much harder would it be to tell everyone else? To admit the truth to his own brother?

“I went mad, Will. Stark, raving mad.”

Why is he lying? Irene listened to Grant chatter about his last five years. He made it sound like he’d wandered the world in search of sanity. And all of it suffered from a vague lack of detail. For all the specifics he gave, he could have been doing anything from picking olives in Greece to spying for the Crown.

Irene wasn’t the only one who noticed his evasion. Will frowned, his lips pursing in disgust. And Robert—who knew the truth—looked like his drink had gone sour. But no one interrupted Grant’s cheerful discourse, and then the innkeeper arrived, bringing in a tray filled with succulent dishes. So everything stopped as they settled to eat.

It was a lovely meal. Grant hadn’t spared any expense with the inn, and the conversation turned general. They learned more about Miss Powel. That she had lived in India and had learned something about magic potions there. That last was said as a joke, but apparently, she was quite the wizard with a cosmetic facial cream.

Robert and Helaine talked about their honeymoon, and Irene spoke freely about her position as purchaser for the dress shop. Given her father-in-law’s profession as owner of Knopp’s Shipping, she was able to mention the current political climate regarding tariffs, especially as it affected prices of the goods she found for the shop. Naturally, that led to a more general discussion of taxes and politics.

She watched Grant closely as she spoke, wondering if he’d have preferred she hide her common labors. He didn’t. Or rather, he was such a congenial host that he made sure everyone was comfortable. And that’s when she realized he was behaving as an aristocrat. This was a true example of what his table would be like if he fully stepped into the role of his title. Lord Crowle would be a congenial host, able to talk on a variety of subjects, with decided opinions regarding the country’s politics without being overbearing.

She glanced to Will, seeing the man’s solid strength, but noted that in this he was decidedly outclassed. Will was quiet—almost dour—and though he could speak quite intelligently on farming and Yorkshire, he was not nearly so versed on the rest of the world. In this, Will was the perfect counterpoint to the well-traveled, slightly scattered Miss Powel, but he would make a terrible earl.

So as the evening wandered on, Irene discovered two distinct things. The first, it would be a terrible crime if Grant did not pick up the political requirements of his title. And the second, she was indeed falling in love with the man.

She’d first suspected her emotions were tumbling out of control two days ago, so she’d resolutely pushed them aside. That had worked during the daylight only. At night, she was much too aware of how much she longed for him. But now, sitting at his table and listening to his easy conversation, she realized that her heart was truly engaged. It wasn’t surprising. Of course, the first man to touch her in years would perforce grab hold of her heart. Inevitable really.

Sadly, she was old enough to know that the relationship could not stand—adoring emotions or not. Perhaps she would be his mistress for a while. Indeed, hadn’t she already come to that place? But a man of his standing would need to marry a titled virgin. Eventually, he would say his good-byes and hark off with some nineteen-year-old innocent who would bear him many heirs. The girl in question would grace his table and be a credit to his name, whereas a widowed purchaser at a dress shop could absolutely not fill that role.

And even if Grant could bring himself to decry tradition and look to her for marriage, Irene knew she wouldn’t—couldn’t—say yes. She had a happy life now, one that she’d struggled hard to attain. She lived in a house with people who loved her. She had work that she adored and friends to share that work with. And most important, she had money she’d earned by herself and that no one could take from her.

Why would she give all that up for the uncertain life of an aristocratic wife? She would have to quit her job, live off her husband’s income, and spend her days going to parties, where the smallest nuance of attire or behavior was scrutinized ad nauseam. Certainly, she’d once wanted that life with an aching hunger, but that had been a fantasy built on childish dreams. She now had an adult woman’s life, and she had no intention of giving it up. For anyone. Even someone as wonderful as the man she was starting to love.

That thought lent a melancholy note to the evening, but only a little. In general, everyone seemed to have a good time. But then the meal concluded, the after-drinks were shared, and Will pushed to his feet. He was getting ready to leave, and he wasn’t the only one realizing the party had come to an end. But as Irene was about to call for coats, Grant’s brother said something that brought the entire evening to a silent halt.

“I have made a decision, Grant,” he said softly. “I will go to the solicitor and draw up a document that states if you recant the title, I shall do it as well. The earldom will then go to Cousin Cameron, and God help him.”

Grant reared back, his expression shocked. “Cam? Why ever would you do that? He’s the least worldly nodcock that ever existed.”

Will nodded in satisfaction. “Exactly. So I guess you’ll just have to keep the title.”

“But—”

“It’s the only way I can think of to convince you that I’m not trying to kill you. Good Lord, even thinking the thing makes my blood boil. How could you believe I would do that?”

Grant’s expression softened. “I haven’t for a couple hours now at least.”

Will absorbed that with a slow nod. “Are you sure there isn’t anyone else? A bitter husband or someone you beat at cards?”

If Will had been offended before, Grant’s expression now mirrored the same outrage. “Just what do you think I’ve been doing? Cuckolding murderous husbands? Fleecing desperate innocents? Will, there’s no one else who would want me dead!”

“That’s just the point,” interrupted Robert, his voice sounding rather tired. “You haven’t told him what you
have
been doing for the last five years. Left him to imagine all sorts of nefarious activities.”

Grant glowered at Robert, clearly infuriated that he wasn’t going to be allowed his evasion. And so the men glared at each other while the tension grew thick.

“Actually, that’s not the point,” Irene cut in. “I believe we needed to eliminate Will as a possibility so as to focus on the truth.”

They all turned to look at her, but it was Will who spoke. “Which is?”

“That he wasn’t the true target.”

Helaine gasped, but it was Grant who made it to Irene’s side in a few quick steps.

“We needn’t discuss this now.”

“And how would delaying help? I have been thinking. My father-in-law has a successful business. That would generate any number of enemies. We were attacked on the way to my home. Perhaps the villain was waiting for Papa and chanced upon me.”

“But that doesn’t explain you being followed weeks ago,” Grant inserted gently.

Irene frowned, her belly tight with worry. This was all so much easier to handle when they’d been the victims of a simple footpad. The idea that someone was looking to harm her was only now beginning to settle into her thoughts. And she hated it.

“Don’t worry,” said Grant as he possessed her hand. “I shall be by your side constantly. You’ll be safe while we sort the situation out.”

She shook her head, doing her best to remain quietly logical. “You can’t watch me every moment of every day.”

“I can, and I have. I’ve hired a runner to help while Mr. Morrison and I investigate. Between the three of us—”

“Four,” added Will.

“Five,” said Robert grimly.

“We shall get to the bottom of this quickly. Never you fear, we’ll find the culprit soon enough.”

Irene’s breath felt tight in her chest. “But you can’t do that indefinitely. And besides, we haven’t the slightest idea where to look.”

Grant didn’t answer. Neither did the other two men. They stared at Irene quietly. It was Helaine who finally said what the men wouldn’t. “Nevertheless, we will take precautions. You’re our friend, and we’d suffer terribly if anything happened to you.”

Irene tried to laugh, but it came out as a sick snort. “I’ve only just met two of you, and Lord Redhill—”

“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, his voice almost congenial. “You’re a woman in danger. What kind of man would I be if I simply ignored you?”

“But that’s just the point. What if it’s all a silly mistake? What if—”

“Stop, Irene. Just… stop.” That was Grant as he gently turned her to face him. “Whether you like it or not, I will have you protected. That’s all there is to it.”

Then Will cleared his throat, his expression awkward. “Uh, about the runner. Even with us helping, he’s still going to cost some blunt. Do you… er, I’d be happy to help with that. Got to pay you back anyway for the money you sent us these last years.”

Irene felt the impact of those words hit Grant. A recoil, and then a tightening in his whole body. “I have the money, Will.”

His brother nodded. “Good. But as I said—”

“And it was my responsibility to see that Mama had food and shelter all these years. If you try to pay me, I’ll throw it in your face. And then I’ll call you out for the insult.” Then, apparently to soften his words, he grunted in a friendly way. “Besides. You paid to replace the barn I burned down.”

“No, I didn’t. Lawton did.”

Grant nodded. “But you did the roof repairs to that blight of a castle. Twice. Plus you got the stillroom fixed and a garden growing.”

Suddenly, Will went still, his eyes narrowing. “You know about that?”

Grant nodded.

“
How
do you know about that?”

And there it was, Irene realized. Once again, the five-year silence reared up between the two brothers. Now more than ever, Grant needed to explain where he’d been. What he’d been doing. But the man wouldn’t. He simply nodded grimly. “Yes, I came by a couple times. And no, I didn’t see you or mother. And Will…” He looked direct and hard at his brother. “I won’t discuss it. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

“But why?” cried Miss Powel. The first she’d spoken during all the family discussion. Apparently, the girl had been trying to hold her tongue, but it had gotten too much. She took a step forward, only marginally restrained by her fiancé. “It’s been eating him alive for five years! Not knowing if you’ve been alive or dead. Hoping you were well—fearing that you weren’t. He just figured out the money came from you—”

Grant’s grumble this time was angrier and carried a full measure of frustration. By which Irene understood that Will wasn’t supposed to learn of that at all. But Miss Powel wasn’t done, her voice raising in pitch as she continued.

“—and now, you suddenly appear with no explanation. It makes no sense!”

“It makes perfect sense,” Will said to his fiancée. “He’s never explained himself in his entire life. Why start now?”

And everyone, Irene included, turned to look at Grant. Why indeed did he insist on keeping all this a secret? What was the point?

Meanwhile, Grant shook his head, his eyes downcast. His words—when they came—were almost too quiet to hear. “The things I’ve done, the sweat and the blood, are done and I will not think of them again.” He lifted his gaze to pin his brother. “Do you understand, Will? I’m sorry you worried. I did what I could to honor my responsibilities, but I’ll not account myself to you.
I
will
not.
”

And there it was. Everyone could see that Grant would not speak of this, and if Will wanted a reconciliation with his brother, he would have to accept that fact. But Irene couldn’t help but wonder why. What was he so desperate to hide?

She saw the same question on everyone else’s face. But no one dared to push the point. Not even Will, who dipped his chin in acknowledgment. And then, though it clearly cost him to ask, he took it one step further.

“But if you needed my help, you’d ask, wouldn’t you? I’m your brother, and I love you. I’m not a worthless child anymore. I can help keep Lady Irene safe, and I can do any number of other things. But you need to tell me, Grant. I can’t guess what you need. You have to tell me.”

Grant was very still beside Irene as his brother spoke. And then he simply eased. Or perhaps, it was that the anger drained out of him, leaving him softer, if not exactly at ease.

“You’ve never been useless, Will. Haven’t we both been saying that for years?”

His brother folded his arms. “It’s not what’s been said that counts. It’s what you think.”

Grant stood to face his brother square on. Eye to eye they stood, neither backing away or softening. “I
think
,” he said loudly, “that you’re a better brother than I deserve. And I’m sorry I ever thought any different.”

And with that, apparently, Will was content. With a very Yorkshire grunt, he embraced his brother. The hug was done quick and hard, typical among men. But Irene watched Grant’s face. He closed his eyes, and his face tightened into twist of grief and relief. As if he had come home after a long time away.

Her heart ached to see it, but she knew that there was healing between the men. Not everything was resolved, but tonight had been a good meeting. And she was beyond touched to have witnessed it.

She met Miss Powel’s eyes and saw that she too understood the significance of the moment. Much more open about her feelings, the girl dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, and Irene was startled to find her own vision watery. Then Will pulled back, his expression dour.

Apparently, dour—she abruptly realized—was the look he had when he was trying to hide strong emotions. That realization completely shifted her idea of the man’s general character. Especially as his next words came out almost cold.

“I’ll respect your silence, brother, but you’re on your own with Mother. If you can keep your secrets from her, then God knows you probably should be working for the Crown.”

Everyone laughed, the tension breaking easily and sweetly. It was time for the party to end. Carriages were called, with Helaine offering to play a belated chaperone to Miss Powel. She intended to ride with the engaged couple back to the Lawton home and ease any difficulty with the girl’s father. Nothing like having a countess express her gratitude for a father’s understanding to smooth problems at home. Miss Powel was grateful, but Irene caught a flash of disappointment from Will. Clearly, the man had hoped for some privacy with his intended. But he was a good man, and so ceded graciously to the needs of polite society.