Wicked Designs (The League of Rogues) (38 page)

There were nods all around the table.

“Ashton, can you arrange for the ceremony to be at St. George’s in Hanover Square?” That was all the rage in London now. It was a lovely church, well known for its impressive front portico supported by six tall Corinthian columns and a tower just behind the portico, near enough to the League’s various residences that the trip would not prove risky.

Ashton grinned. “I suppose. I do have some pull with the bishop. He owes me a favor ever since that incident last year, during Michaelmas, you know.” The other men laughed with him, knowing what trouble the bishop had gotten himself into.

“When are you planning on telling Emily?” Lucien asked.

“Not until after we have all our plans settled and her tucked away in Cedric’s townhouse. I want her to be at ease and feel safe when I propose. She has endured too much these last few days and a rushed proposal will not make her happy.”

Suddenly the dining room door opened and Jonathan entered. An awkward hesitancy marred his steps. He’d never dared to intrude on Godric or the others before.

Godric watched him silently, curious to see what he would do.

Jonathan cleared his throat, “I know you and I have not spoken of our new situation…as…brothers, Your Grace, but—”

“If you are my brother, then you can stop addressing me as Your Grace. Now what do you want?”

“I wish to go to London with you and help with Emily.”

The newly discovered brothers stared at each other for a moment before Godric said, “Very well. She is to be your sister-in-law soon enough. You ought to have some say in all of this. You shall accompany Cedric and Charles. Three is better than two for Emily’s protection.”

Godric didn’t smile, but his tone was calm and accepting. If Emily could forgive him, then he could certainly forgive his brother.

Jonathan visibly relaxed. Clearly he’d expected a fight.

“Sit down and eat.” Godric gestured to the fine breakfast on the sideboard.

Jonathan flushed, but bravely filled a plate and chose a seat next to Ashton, who smiled and gave a warm nod.

“You any good with a pistol, Jonathan?” Charles asked.

“More so with a flintlock rifle, but yes.” Jonathan swallowed a bite of jam-covered toast.

“Excellent. We’ll make a fine team, the three of us,” Cedric said.

“What time are we to leave?” Jonathan asked.

“By noon, we hope. Emily needs as much rest as we can manage to give her. The carriage ride will be unpleasant enough, as ill as she’s been.”

“Well, I suppose the rest of us should be packed and ready.” Ashton rose from his chair with the soft but firm suggestion in his tone that the others follow suit.

They left Godric and Jonathan alone. This was why he loved his friends. They followed his judgment and accepted Jonathan. They had always treated him nicely before—a man’s valet was sacred, after all—but now he was one of them.

“Have you had enough to eat?” Godric asked after a few minutes. Jonathan flicked a glance to his empty plate and nodded. “Good. Join me in my study?”

Godric’s study was still a bit untidy after his self-imposed exile. But Simkins had removed the trays of untouched food and the broken glass, and put back all the books Godric had ripped from the shelves in his rage. Godric sat down and motioned for Jonathan to do the same. Jonathan eased back into one of the chairs facing Godric’s desk.

“There are some matters to settle between us.” Godric leaned forward a few inches. “I want you to move your things out of your current quarters once this business with Emily is settled.”

Jonathan’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I understand, Your Grace. I lost my temper with you, and I put Miss Parr in danger. I should like to make my apologies with the young lady before I go, however.” 

It struck Godric how blinded he’d been, never suspecting for a moment they shared a father. It made him wonder what he else he’d missed by simply not looking.

“Jonathan, I’m not forcing you to leave the manor. I only meant for you to choose a room on the upper floor, a room more suitable to your new status in this household.”

“My new status?”

“Yes. We’re brothers, by blood and by law. If you think I’ll toss you to the wayside, you’re mistaken. Unless of course you wish to leave. I wouldn’t insist that you stay. But I’d like it if you would.”

Jonathan’s face flushed. “You really would not mind my staying on here, Your Grace?”

“I’ve always despised being an only child. We are brothers, and that is all that matters to me. Even in my anger I doubt I could have killed you once Simkins told me. I might have throttled you a bit.”

“Your Grace.” Jonathan cast his eyes down again. “I don’t mean to make things more uncomfortable between us, Your…Godric. But how do we go on from here? I’ve been your valet for nearly six years and a servant since I was born. What happens now?”

“Enjoy yourself. You’ve studied nearly as much as I have. You know the proper manners, it’s merely time to employ them. All you must do is raise your head, not look down at the floor and wear different clothes, and learn how to dance, of course. I’m considering settling one of Father’s unentailed estates upon you. I’ll put it in trust. It will be an easy competence. Whenever you are ready to settle down and marry I will turn it over to you.”

Jonathan blinked, eyes round as saucers. “My own estate?”

“As the second son it would be your due. I daresay you’ve worked hard enough for it.”

Jonathan’s eyes began to glisten, which made Godric uncomfortable.

“Damn it, Jon, smile for heaven’s sake. No need to turn into a watering pot,” he said, hoping to raise his brother’s spirits.

Jonathan scraped the heel of his hand over his eyes, blinked rapidly and nodded.

“When I was a child I used to envy you, Godric. But Simkins told me what life was like for you. I was kept safe in my mother’s care, but Simkins never let me forget what you endured. I thought he did it to prevent jealousy.”

Godric’s eyes darkened as they fixed on a spot on the wall. He could still hear his father say,
“I need a reason to beat a servant, but not to beat my own son.”
There was only one bastard in their family, and it certainly wasn’t Jonathan.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is, I wish I could have shared the sting. I hate knowing you suffered that alone.”

Godric leaned back into his chair and started to smile, really smile.

“Would you have any interest in joining me and the other lords once a month at our club, Berkley’s, in London?”

“They wouldn’t mind the intrusion?” Jonathan had been there many times as his valet, but not a member.

“They’ve always liked you, and blood is blood. I want you to join our League. What do you say?”

“Absolutely.”

Emily clung to Godric’s side, nervous as they entered Cedric’s townhouse. His sisters, Miss Sheridan and Miss Audrey, were inside. It was strange, but she wanted to make a good impression.

Cedric caught sight of his sisters. “There you are! Come over here and meet Emily.”

The elder, Horatia, was taller, with more classical features, a long neck and sharp cheekbones that reminded Emily of a swan. Though shorter, Audrey was just as pretty, her face rounder and more childlike, but not in a way that hid the intelligence in her eyes.

“Emily, this is my sister, Horatia. Horatia, this is Miss Emily Parr. And this is Audrey.” Cedric chucked his littlest sister under her chin.

Horatia gave a warm smile. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Parr.”

Emily released her grip on Godric’s arm and smiled back. “Please call me Emily.”

“Then you must call me Horatia.”

“You have a lovely home, Horatia.” Emily looked about the expansive marbled floors and gilded furnishings of the hall.

“Oh, Horatia, allow me to introduce you to my half-brother, Jonathan St. Laurent.” Godric prodded Jonathan forward to bow for his introduction.

“Surely you jest, we both know your valet, Mr. Helprin. Shame on you for such a weak attempt at a joke, Your Grace.” Horatia shifted nervously.

“It is a long and sordid tale, Miss Sheridan, but I assure you it is true. He is my brother.”

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Sheridan.” Jonathan bowed over Horatia’s extended hand and brushed his lips over her fingers. She blushed.

Next to Jonathan, Lucien narrowed his eyes. Emily looked back and forth between Lucien and Horatia. Was that the glitter of jealousy?

Cedric suggested they proceed to the parlor, but Horatia fixed her brother with black look. “Cedric, you and the other gentleman will freshen up first. Half of you smell like horses.”

“You’ve never minded the smell before,” said Cedric.

Horatia raised a brow. “You’ve never brought so many guests before. It’s like a stable in here. Emily may stay, she clearly rode in a carriage.”

Emily enjoyed watching the sparks fly between brother and sister, but at last Ashton interceded. “She’s right, Cedric. We’ve ridden too long today to subject these ladies to the aromas of the country.”

“As if London smells any better,” grumbled Cedric, and lead the others upstairs. The women headed to the parlor, free of the men for a short while.

Audrey and Horatia surrounded Emily on the couch and assailed her with questions. It did not take long to coerce the full truth of Emily’s abduction. They even knew the intimate goings on between her and Godric.

A rosy blush blossomed in Audrey’s cheeks as she shyly asked, “Is it true Godric…compromised you?” It seemed the reach of their gossip exceeded those of the Lady Society column, but they vowed to keep silent.

Audrey took a deep breath. “What was it like?”

Horatia pinched her sister’s arm. “Audrey!”

Audrey scrunched her nose. “It’s a valid question. Cedric never tells us anything. We have to learn from someone.”

Emily’s face reddened, but she decided to be open with them. “It is hard to describe. It is terrifying at first, like you are about to die, but you don’t. I doubt I could have been with any other man than Godric. You must trust the man you are with. Otherwise, I don’t think you can feel safe enough for…” Emily trailed off.

“Dying?” Horatia asked breathlessly.

“Yes. Well, I really shouldn’t talk about it. I sound like some lightskirt.”

Audrey steered the conversation to a safer harbor. “So you will stay with us here?”

“I believe so. Those blasted men have all been tightlipped about their plans, even Jonathan. They barely said a word on the carriage ride over, and they made me leave Penelope behind.”

“The foxhound Cedric bought you?”

Emily’s smile wilted. “Yes, poor thing. She barked and bit Jonathan when they took her away. I hope I can return to her soon. Simkins must be having a dreadful time keeping the carpets clean.”

Horatia leaned forward and laid a slender, elegant hand on Emily’s. “Well, not to worry. There are plenty of animals running about here. We have two old cats hiding somewhere upstairs.” She giggled. “Mittens and Muff.”

“Mittens and Muff?”

Horatia’s lips twitched. “That’s what Audrey named them. She was only ten years old, and got them for Christmas as a pair. She received new mittens and a muff from Cedric, so naturally she just named the cats the same thing.”

Audrey tilted her chin up. “I was a child, Horatia! You make me sound so insipid!”

Emily patted Audrey’s hand. “I think they are darling names.”

Horatia grinned. “While you are here, we’ll keep you entertained so much that you won’t have time to miss Penelope.”

Somehow Emily didn’t doubt that.

The gentlemen, freshly changed and far more sociable, invaded the parlor soon after the women finished talking. Even Jonathan, though rather shy at being an active part in such a social gathering, seemed to enjoy himself as he and Charles engaged Audrey in conversation.

Only two people seemed out of sorts—Lucien and, oddly, Horatia. Lucien stood in the corner of the room near Cedric and Ashton, but his gaze kept sliding back towards Horatia, who did her best to ignore him.

At first Emily assumed Lucien had an amorous interest in Horatia, but the cold, imperious glances from Lucien received shameful blushes from Horatia. Something had happened between them, and Emily couldn’t even begin to guess what. Before she contemplated the matter further, however, Godric stole up on her from behind.

“May I speak to you in private?” he whispered in her ear. He put a guiding hand on her lower back, and the pair slipped out of the room unnoticed. Godric led her to the drawing room a few doors down.

“Emily, we are to be married tomorrow.” Godric announced this without so much as a romantic preamble, as though it were a contract that only required her handshake at this point. Emily stared at him. Did he really just expect her to say yes? She loved him, but she wouldn’t just agree because he’d declared it. It was that very commanding, dominating attitude she hated, whether it came from her uncle, Blankenship or Godric.

“No.”

“Wonderf—wait.” Godric gripped her by the shoulders, looming over her, his presence more dominating than ever. “What do you mean, no?”

“No. I won’t marry you.” It made little sense to her heart, but her head reminded her that she could not simply agree because he’d declared it. She needed to be allowed the choice to say no.