Trials of Artemis (29 page)

Philip's
face drained to such a pale white that Gideon thought for a moment that the
young man might faint. "You're turning off my mother and siblings as
well?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"There
will be no more Gladstones at Kellington. Or any of my properties for that
matter."

"But
my Lord, they had nothing to do with it!"

"You
thought that bringing dishonor to your name would only bring dishonor to
yourself?"

Philip
dropped to his knees and began sobbing. "Please, my Lord, they don't
deserve to be punished. It was my mistake, my fault. You shouldn't punish
them."

Gideon
launched to his feet. "You think I'm punishing them?" he roared.
"Has it occurred to you what their lives will be like under the shadow of
your perfidy? All the whispers they would suffer, all the slander they would
forbear because they share your name? So much as a piece of silver goes missing
and who will be suspected in this house? A Gladstone. Establishing themselves
in other houses is the only hope they have to not be punished because of your
actions. Now pull yourself together and be a man. If you want to help your
family you will need to make something of yourself."

Philip
pulled himself back to his feet, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and sniffling.

The
earl frowned down into his empty brandy glass. "I don't think I have to
tell you that I'm ashamed of your actions. That your father would be ashamed of
your actions."

Philip
nodded silently.

"I
want you out of the house by tonight. The rest of the Gladstones will have
until the end of the week."

"Yes,
my lord."

"You're
dismissed."

Philip
bowed and stiffly left the room.

Gideon
continued to stare into his glass, not sure if he wanted to drink more brandy.
His head had begun to ache terribly and just the small amount of liquor he'd
consumed was making him feel dizzy. It made him chuckle, thinking that it would
start quite the talk if both Harringtons took to passing out at odd hours for
no apparent reason. That made him frown again in worry about why Jacqueline had
begun to faint at the slightest provocation. She hadn't seemed the type to be
susceptible to the vapors but then again he hadn't really known her very long.
Less than two months, he mused. It seemed he should hardly know her at all.

"Is
everything sorted out?”

Gideon
looked up to see Jacqueline standing in the open doorway. She had washed off
the blood and grime of the midnight raid, and now looked the part of demure
countess again. Her pale brown hair was upswept in a simple style, and she wore
the pale yellow gown that looked as though a ray of sunshine had decided to
wrap itself around her. Holding onto the doorframe, she was watching him with
curiosity and a bit of concern. In the early morning light he could see that her
eyes were shadowed with fatigue but she stood with the easy grace that defined
her. She had become impossibly dear to him. There was a spreading warmth in his
chest, better than the best brandy, just from looking at her. And a fluttering,
too, as though his heart wanted to escape its confines and go to her on its
own. He set down the brandy glass and rounded the desk to move towards her.

"Everything
will be all right, I suppose," he responded. She walked into the room and
they met in front of the couches, not touching but standing so close that
either had only to lean forward for a kiss or an embrace.

"I
found the doctor," she said, her voice huskier than before. "You
should let him see to you."

"I
will. Eventually."

"I
heard you shouting at Philip."

"Don't
tell me you're going soft on the boy at this point."

"No,
but all of the Gladstones?"

Gideon
sighed. "Did you hear why? It will ultimately go easier on them than
trying to keep them here."

Jacqueline
nodded. "I understand the logic. It's just... sad."

He
took her hand, running his fingers over the soft skin and straightening the
wedding ring. "Is this ring too heavy?"

She
shook her head. "No, I like it."

He
spent a few more seconds in silence, absorbed in watching their hands together.
Hers paler and smaller than his but possessed of just as many callouses from
sport. "It is sad. I grew up with them all. I was never encouraged to play
with the servants of course, but on a summer day all boys want to play swords
with sticks or sail the seven seas in the pond. At times like those, if we
could escape the adults, it wasn't about class or position. It was about who
came up with the best games and who won them. Philip always looked up to me. He
was like a little brother."

"Oh
Giddy, I'm so sorry."

He
met her gaze to see that a tear had splashed down her cheek and more were
gathering in her eyes. Cradling her face in his hand he wiped at the tears with
his thumbs. "No, love, don't cry."

"But
that's terrible. You were betrayed by a friend and now have to hurt yourself
and other friends because of it."

He
closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers. "A man must always do
what's right, no matter how much it hurts."

Then
Jacqueline was kissing him and the warmth inside his chest expanded while the
fluttering began to feel like a dozen moths trying to fly free. After a few
moments he could forget how much pain he was in and simply enjoy his wife.

Jack
had known for some time that she was in love with her husband, but his
admission that sending away the Gladstones was affecting him deeply made her
see the lonely child he had been, and how natural honor and strength were to
him. Even if they didn't agree on some things, she knew that he had the best of
intentions. He just believed he alone could or would take responsibility for
things. That it was his job to always be in charge and make the right
decisions. But if he was a good man and mostly reasonable, surely they could
come to some understanding on things that were important to her. She would need
to convince him that she was a partner, a worthy full partner, whose opinions
were to be respected. And that made her realize that keeping the news of their
coming child from him wasn't something that a trustworthy partner would do.
Much as she was loathe to break the kiss, especially with him now stroking her
collarbone as their tongues brushed, she knew they needed to talk before his
hands wandered further and she forgot what she needed to say. As she started to
pull away he growled and held her tighter. She wedged her hands against his
shoulders and pushed hard enough to gain a few inches between them and he
frowned down at her.

"What?"

"I
need to tell you something."

He
waited expectantly and she lowered her eyes to the buttons on his waistcoat
again. "Well?" he prompted.

"It
isn't easy to say. Apparently."

He
chuckled and leaned down to kiss the side of her neck. "Then I must guess?
Hmm, you need more pin money?"

"No."

"More
dresses? No, not dresses for you. More swords? Or arrows?"

"No."

"Or
perhaps-"

"Giddy,
I'm pregnant."

Straightening
quickly he took a step back, hands still hovering near her but no longer
touching. She swayed a bit at the sudden loss of contact.

"You're
what?" he demanded. He looked quite shocked and that unaccountably made
Jack feel cross.

"Pregnant.
Did they not cover that in one of your lover's handbooks?"

"I...
of course." He held her hands out to the sides and looked up and down her
as though he could somehow divine the truth of it from her appearance. She felt
like a filly at Tattersall's. He frowned again. "How long have you
known?"

"A
few weeks."

His
expression darkened further. "A few weeks? And you rode out to the cliffs
last night in your condition?" He grabbed her upper arms in an almost
bruising grasp. "Have you gone mad?"

She
pushed at him again, as well as she could while he held her arms so tightly.
"No, I haven't gone mad. As you already admitted, if I hadn't come after
you then you would most likely have died."

"You
should have sent the men. Are you even supposed to be riding a horse?"

"Giddy,
I'm not a fragile doll.”

"Gods,
that's why you've been fainting, isn't it? And the illness?"

"Yes,
all that. It's rather embarrassing really."

"You
are not to go riding again. And you need sleep."

"Giddy,
calm down."

"When
was the last time you saw the doctor?"

"Just
before I came downstairs."

"What
did he say?"

Jack
sighed with the repressed urge to throttle her overbearing husband. "That
everything appears to be fine but with the strenuous activity of last night
that I should get extra rest."

"Don't
ever do something like this again."

"What?
Save you?"

Gideon's
eyes narrowed. "Risk yourself or the child. Do you realize you could be
carrying the future Earl of Harrington?"

"Of
course I do. And if he can't bother himself to help save his father how good of
an earl would he be?"

Her
flippancy appeared to shred Gideon's last bit of patience. "Jacqueline,
that is poppycock and you know it. I demand your promise that you won't put
yourself or the child at further risk."

"No."

"No?"
His voice rose with his frustration. "What do you mean no?"

"You
have to stop being a demanding tyrant. I won't do something simply because
you're shouting at me about it."

"I'm
the Earl of Harrington-"

"And
I'm the Countess of Harrington," she interrupted. "And I insist that
my judgment be respected. I've always insisted on it, you just haven't been
paying attention."

"Jacqueline
now is the not time-"

His
statement was interrupted by the sound of steel sliding free of its sheath near
the door. The Harringtons turned to see a petite, dark-haired beauty in a dark
red velvet dress holding aloft a bright silver epee.

"I
see I've arrived just in time, Jack," the young woman said.

Gideon
pushed his wife behind him. "I would be pleased if you would put that
weapon away."

"And
I would be pleased," she said, advancing on him with the sword, "if
you would stop shouting at my friend."

"How
did you even get in here?"

She
shrugged. "The front door was open. From there I just followed the sound
of a very irritated Jack." She pinned the tip of the epee against his
waistcoast, just below his cravat, and he irritatedly brushed it aside with his
jacket-clad arm. She whipped the flexible sword around again landing it against
his throat.

"Sabre,
stop it," Jack admonished.

"You
don't want him killed then?"

"I
just went to the trouble to save him last night, so no, I would prefer
not."

"Really?
What sort of trouble can an earl get in on a Wednesday night?"

"Smugglers,"
Jack said.

"Smugglers!"
Sabre’s mouth drew into a pout. "Why do I have to miss all the fun?"
She flicked the sword away and had it sheathed in an instant. "So,"
she said. "This is your earl."

"Yes,
so be on your best behavior. Gideon, may I present Lady Sabrina Bittlesworth.
Sabre, may I present Lord Gideon Wolfe, Earl of Harrington."

Sabre
made an elegant curtsey as Gideon made a brief bow, but then she looked the
earl over thoroughly. "He isn't what I expected for you."

"I
can
actually hear you, you
know," he said drily.

Undaunted,
Sabre continued. "I expected someone pale and bookish. Someone happy to
let you make all the decisions. This one is all..." she waved her hands
around his form, "dark, brooding intensity. Almost sinister."

"Well,"
Jack said with a smil. "He
is
Lord Lucifer."

Sabre
spun to look at her friend, wide-eyed. "No!"

Jack
couldn't keep herself from chuckling. She looked up at her husband and realized
that regardless of his history she did love the man he had become. "Yes,
I'm afraid so."

Sabre
shrieked and wrapped her arms around Jack while jumping up and down. "That
is too rich!"

"Perhaps
it's the blow to the head," Gideon interrupted, "but you ladies seem
to have lost me."

The
petite brunette turned to him. "You're Lord Lucifer. Jack hates you. She's
hated you for years and now she's married to you."

"I...
and that's funny?"

"One
day you will no doubt understand the satisfaction of watching Jack have to eat
her words," she said with a tremendous smile.