Chapter 28
The Spanish claim that God told man to take what he wanted and then pay for it. As long as Caroline is by my side, I have everything a man could wish. I’ve yet to see a bill, but when it comes, I’ll pay happily, considering it a bargain well made.
—Lawrence Sinclair, who was feeling more in charity with the world than ever in his entire life.
The sun had already dropped beyond the western peaks and the sky was awash in pearl gray by the time Lawrence and Caroline rode back into Ware. He’d hoped to slip in unnoticed, but evidently, they’d been missed.
Billy Two Toes was in the stables, where he’d taken up residence since arriving at Ware. After living rough on the streets of London, he hadn’t felt right in one of the servant chambers just under the rafters in the manor house. The haymow, however, suited him just fine, and he’d made himself useful, feeding, watering, and currying the estate’s small herd. Now he was quick to come take the reins of Lawrence and Caroline’s horses.
But before they could dismount, Dudley came sprinting out to the stables. He’d evidently been watching for their return.
“Oh, thank heaven you’re back, sir. Both of you. Safe and sound.” The valet had run so hard, he had to suck in a fresh lungful every third word or so. “Lady Chatham is beside herself, and Lord Bredon, he’s…well, he’s…”
“Upset?” Lawrence supplied.
“Oh, he’d have to climb down several rungs on the ladder to be only upset.” Dudley’s keen gaze raked them both.
Lawrence realized they looked more than a bit travel worn. Caroline and he were downright disheveled. He reached over and plucked a foxtail from behind Caroline’s ear.
“My brother will change his tune once he hears our news,” his lovely new wife said, lifting her chin. They’d been well and truly caught, but she was determined to brazen it out. “Shall we go tell them, Mr. Sinclair?”
He doffed his hat. “With pleasure, Mrs. Sinclair.”
Dudley gasped in surprise while Lawrence gave Caroline his arm. “Then that means Alice and me’ll be in the same household again, won’t it?”
“As long as your Alice is a good sailor.” Lawrence realized suddenly that marriage meant he’d added yet another servant to his small household. He still didn’t think Dudley was of much use, but he was stuck with him, especially now that Alice would be coming with Caroline. Of course his wife would need a maid to attend her. He ought to have considered that. He just hadn’t considered paying Alice’s fare to India, as well as her wages, lodging, and board. The costs of acquiring a wife were probably much greater than he’d imagined. A major’s salary was looking smaller all the time.
No matter. He wouldn’t undo this day for worlds.
He and Caroline promenaded across the courtyard as if they were about to be presented to the king.
The whole party was assembled in the parlor, and when Lawrence and Caroline came through the door, pandemonium erupted. Everyone began talking at once. His mother and Lady Chatham praised heaven for their safe return, clasping hands with a gentleman in a vicar’s collar to whom Lawrence had never been introduced. Caroline’s brothers loudly demanded to know where they’d been. Rowley nearly drowned them out in his effort to denounce Lawrence as the worst sort of rake. Frederica and Horatia almost knocked Caroline to the ground in their rush to hug her.
Only Bredon stood in stony silence by the fireplace. He skewered Lawrence with a murderous look. When the general frenzy died down, he said in a low, but no less threatening tone, “I counted you a friend, Sinclair. How could you bring dishonor to my sister?”
“I would never do such a thing. That’s why I married her.”
The clamor began afresh. Lawrence raised both hands to quiet them back down.
“We were wed in Scotland this morning. It’s done and there’s an end to it. I intend to take a major’s commission, and my wife and I will sail for India in a few weeks.”
“I rather think you won’t,” Bredon said, his former scowl now turning into an enigmatic smile.
Lawrence bristled. “You cannot stop us.”
Then the man with the vicar’s collar cleared his throat loudly. “I believe I just might.”
Ben put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “This is Philip Exeter, an old classmate of mine from Oxford. He’s recently taken the living at the parish church in the village here. When he was going through the old vicar’s desk, he happened upon something that might interest you.”
“Yes, well, here it is.” Reverend Exeter held out a much-folded piece of foolscap, yellowed with age. A broken piece of wax still clung to it. The seal was embossed with enough of the crest of Ware to show its origin. Someone with access to the official seal of the earldom had written the old letter.
“What is it?” Lawrence asked.
“A letter from your father’s mother. It is addressed, if you can credit it, to the Almighty Himself,” Reverend Exeter said. “Evidently, it was given to my predecessor for safekeeping. I didn’t break the seal. That was done long ago. But I must admit, I did read it.”
“That’s all right, Philip,” Ben said to his friend. “I doubt the good Lord minds.”
Lawrence took the letter and turned it over in his hands. “I never knew my grandmother.”
“Perhaps not, but she was thinking, if not of you in particular, at least of the welfare of her progeny in general. Lady Ware wrote this shortly before she died. Her last confession, I’d say it was.”
“What did she have to confess?”
“Quite a bit, actually,” the vicar said. “I understand your father and your uncle were twins.”
“Yes.” Lawrence stared down at the letter but couldn’t seem to make his eyes focus on the small, spidery script. “They didn’t favor each other much, but they did share a birthday.”
“And therein lies the reason for this letter. Apparently, your grandmother convinced the midwife to collude with her to conceal the truth about which son was born first. She describes Henry, your father, as a seemly child, possessed of a full head of dark hair and a lusty cry. Harcourt, your uncle, was the runt of the litter—her words, not mine—and had the ruddy coloring of her side of the family. The smaller babe seemed so frail, so weak, she wanted to assure his place in the world should he reach adulthood, which she doubted. So your lady grandmother made her midwife swear that Harcourt was the heir, even though Henry was actually her firstborn.”
Lawrence swallowed hard. “So my father should have been the earl.”
“Not should have been,” Bredon said. “Was. Only no one knew it.”
“Why didn’t your predecessor come forward with this letter sooner?” Caroline asked Reverend Exeter.
The vicar’s gaze swept upward. “God knows. Perhaps your grandmother swore him to secrecy as well.”
“Or he tried to bring the matter to light and your uncle paid him to conceal it,” Ben said.
Lawrence thought it likely. It explained so much. No wonder his uncle had hated him since he was a boy.
“I’m loath to believe a man of the cloth could be bought on such a matter, but avarice afflicts all flesh. It’s possible,” the vicar said. “But the main thing is, the truth has come to light now. Henry Sinclair was rightwise born the Earl of Ware.”
Lawrence drew a deep breath. He was his father’s heir. “What’s to be done?”
“We show this letter to your uncle and convince him to do the right thing.”
“And if he will not?” Caroline asked.
“Then we haul him before the House of Lords with our evidence, and the result will be the same.” Bredon pointed to the letter. “Trust me, Sinclair, I have a vested interest in seeing you elevated to the earldom. I’d rather my sister were a countess than a major’s wife.”
Caroline tucked her hand into the crook of Lawrence’s arm. “I don’t care which I am, so long as I’m his.”
He covered her hand with his. Just when I thought I couldn’t love her more.
* * * *
Supper turned into a celebration. The rest of the evening was filled with music and dancing and good-natured fun aimed at embarrassing the newly married couple. Lawrence and Caroline were put to bed, supposedly for the first time, by their families and left in peace to consummate their union.
“Quite satisfactory, my lord,” Caroline said once they lay spent and gasping on the fresh sheets.
“Only satisfactory? I can do better than that.”
“If you can, I’m a dead woman.”
Caroline didn’t die. But he did make her cry out loud enough for Bredon to tease him over it at breakfast the next morning before any of the ladies joined them. The Lovell brothers slapped his back and cuffed him upside the head as they passed behind him. He’d acquired not just a wife, but a whole quiver of new relations intent on making him part of their big, boisterous family.
Lawrence hadn’t felt that sort of acceptance since Ralph died. Ben, Charles, Thomas, and especially Bredon, were his brothers now. Only one masculine face was missing from the table.
“Where’s Rowley?” Lawrence helped himself to a heaping plate of coddled eggs and kippers. Cook had outdone herself with the light, fluffy rolls. Lawrence took three.
Married life made a man hungry.
“Probably still abed,” Bredon said. “That scoundrel doesn’t rise before noon if he can help it.”
“Not today, sir,” Dudley said as he reheated Bredon’s tea. Because Ware wasn’t accustomed to so many guests, Dudley had been pressed into service as a footman once more. Lawrence only hoped the fellow wouldn’t spill scalding water on Bredon. He’d waited a long time to have a brother. It’d be a shame to ruin one now. “I chanced to see Lord Rowley head for the stables just after sunup.”
Bredon frowned. “He rarely shows such industry.”
“Unless…” Lawrence left his breakfast and hurried to the earl’s study. His study now, he reminded himself.
Bredon fell into step behind him. “Where did you put that letter?”
They feared the same thing. “I locked it in the earl’s desk.”
My desk.
When Lawrence pushed open the door to the study, it was obvious the place had been quietly ransacked. Every drawer was open, and several dozen ledger books lay crack-spined on the floor. Worst of all, the one locked drawer in the large mahogany desk had been pried open.
The letter was gone.