CHAPTER 7
M eeting with Mr. Hill had made Gabe’s stomach knot even tighter than it had been before he’d arrived. The earldom had been hanging on by the thinnest of threads and that had been before Clayton’s affliction had taken him to the darkest of places. But there was some hope. There was one property that was not entailed and selling it could help keep the earldom afloat for a bit of time. One he’d need to see with his own eyes to determine its state. And doing so would keep him from London even longer than he’d expected. Part of him had been relieved to receive that piece of advice. If he was out of Town, focused on saving the earldom from ruin, he wouldn’t have to witness the daily decline of his brother. It was a selfish thought, to be sure. But the truth of the matter was, his presence in Clayton’s chambers did nothing for his brother, and the earldom did need to be managed.
Gabe sank down onto the settee in Christian’s front parlor, his thoughts all a jumble, his nerves still on end. He’d departed Rosewood several hours ago, but the awful visions of the place still floated along the edges of his mind.
“Ah, there you are,” Christian said from the threshold. “I was just about to head out.”
Gabe glanced up at his friend and frowned slightly. “Should you be up and walking around?” After all, his friend had been stabbed the night before.
“It was a blade to my arm. That does not affect my walking around.” And then he stepped into the parlor and dropped into a seat across from Gabe. “You’re looking downcast.”
Which had been Gabe’s exact thought about Christian ever since his arrival in London. “Rosewood always takes it out of me.”
His friend agreed with a nod. “You know, your brother would probably do better at Northend.”
Not that Christian had any idea what he was talking about. And Gabe snorted at the suggestion. “You haven’t even seen him. He’s out of his mind and he’s dangerous. No one at Northend could keep him from harm, besides Winslett says there’ll be an open spot for Clayton at Oakcliffe by the end of the month.”
Christian shrugged. “Rosewood, Oakcliffe, it’s all the same thing, and hardly conducive to one’s health. If his environment was more serene, he might be more manageable, Gabriel.”
“And if you’re wrong about that, I could be putting each and every person at Northend in danger.” Gabe shook his head. “You should have heard him today, Christian. Screaming about that non-existent goddamned treasure, and then laughing maniacally as he struggled against his restraints. I shall have nightmares about that for the rest of my life.”
“Do you think it’s possible he might actually have a treasure? One Hill doesn’t know about? One you’ve never heard of.”
“He’s out of his mind.” Gabe shook his head. “He has no idea who I am, I doubt he knows who he is. He certainly doesn’t know anything about any treasure.”
“He does seem fixated on that. Why a treasure instead of something else? Spent the better part of his life hopping from one bed to another. You’d think he’d be begging for women. So perhaps…”
Gabe scoffed. “If my brother had been in possession of a treasure, the earldom would not be in its current financial state. My father was not the best steward, but Clayton has been even worse, apparently.” At least according to Mr. Hill. Gabe was fortunate there was even something left for him to try and sell.
“He truly has no idea who you are?”
Gabe shook his head as the truth of that twisted his heart anew. He’d never been particularly close to his brother. Clayton was nearly a decade older, and Gabe had been sent off to stay with their mother’s family after her death. He and Clayton were strangers, mostly. But his brother had purchased Gabe’s commission, and Gabe did owe him for that. And for being kind whenever their paths had crossed when Gabe was much younger. They might not have been the closest of brothers, but Clayton had always been generous in his spirit. He may have mismanaged the earldom to where it might never recover, but it hadn’t been out of malice. Unlike their father, he’d always been a decent man in the core of his heart.
And now he was going to die.
An awful death.
In that awful place. Or one very like it.
Gabe heaved a sigh. “He’s in the worst sort of Hell you can imagine.”
His friend sighed as well. “Then moving him to Northend might be the best option, Gabe.”
“We’ve just been over that.” Damn it all, if his friend wasn’t the most stubborn man alive.
Christian shook his head. “Hire one of those doctors you think could watch after him. Peat, or whatever you said his name was. Take him with you to Northend.”
If Gabe had access to the coffers of the Weybourne dukedom as Christian did, money would not be a concern. But the Northwold earldom was not the Weybourne dukedom. Not in any way. And should he have ever been confused about that before, the visit to their solicitor’s office that morning would have disillusioned him of that fact. “Should I stumble upon Clayton’s lost treasure, perhaps I can finance such a thing.”
“Come on.” Christian pushed back to his feet. “I’m to find a gift for Colonel Throssell this afternoon. Why don’t you come with me? Take your mind off all this if only for a little while.”
“ You think I’m horrid!” Cassie accused, touching a hand to her heart as their coach turned left onto Piccadilly.
“I don’t think you’re horrid,” Sophie replied calmly. “I think you don’t consider how your words may sound to others and that you should think before you speak.”
Her youngest sister glared quite pointedly at her. “No one but you ever takes offense at anything I say. You’re the only one who thinks I’m horrid.”
“I do not think you’re horrid,” Sophie repeated. Goodness, her sister could try the patience of a saint. “But you must have missed the expression on Prissa’s face, Cassie, if you think I’m the only one who ever takes offense. Her father and her brother just died. It’s their loss we’re mourning, or have you forgotten?”
“We barely even knew them,” her sister muttered.
That was true, but… “That’s hardly the point. They were family and we shall mourn them as is proper. Complaining about that in front of poor Prissa who loved them and lost them was callous and cruel on your part.”
“I am not cruel.” Cassie heaved an irritated sigh. “And I did not complain.”
“It certainly sounded like you did.”
Her sister’s back straightened as though she was affronted. “You are certainly high and mighty for someone who donned boy’s clothes and snuck into a bachelor’s residence last night. If you would like to discuss proper behavior, Sophie, why don’t we begin there?”
Sophie narrowed her eyes on Cassie, surprised she knew that detail at all. There was a reason she and Charlotte had planned the excursion to Albany without Cassie’s help. Their youngest sister was the worst secret keeper alive. “How in the world do you know that?”
Looking quite pleased with herself, Cassie shrugged. “How I know anything is beside the point. You did something untoward last night, and people who live in glass houses should not throw stones.”
“I had to speak with Chase,” Sophie said. “And there was no other way to do so.”
“You don’t have to look so concerned,” Cassie added. “I’m not going to tell anyone. What was it like? Did you see anything scandalous while you were there?”
Blast it all. The last person in the world she wanted to confide anything to was Cassie. “I didn’t see anything except for Chase’s set of rooms.” And Matthew Greywood. And Gabriel Prideaux. But she would rather die than admit that to her youngest sister. “Besides, we weren’t talking about my excursion to the Albany, but you and your tendency to say things you shouldn’t.”
Cassie huffed as she sank back against the squabs. “You may be the oldest, Sophia, but you are not Mama. So in the future, if someone needs to correct me in any manner, it should be her, and not you.”
Sophie shook her head, relieved they were no longer discussing her misadventure from the night before. “I completely agree, Cassie, but Mama wasn’t there this morning with Mr. Greywood nor with Prissa this afternoon. However, I was.”
Her sister narrowed her sea-colored eyes on Sophie, a storm brewing in them to be sure. “You have been in a mood all day, and it’s hardly fair for you to take it out on me.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Sophie wasn’t taking anything out on Cassie. And she wasn’t in a mood. How did her sister go through life being so overly dramatic in all things?
“I do hope Mr. Greywood makes an offer for you soon,” Cassie continued. “Living with you is nearly unbearable these days.”
“Hopefully he will,” Sophie countered. “Then I won’t have to watch you make a cake of yourself all the time and wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole to avoid the embarrassment. Such a relief that will be, let me assure you.”
Neither of them said another word as the coach turned left onto St. James and then right onto Pall Mall. They just glared silently at each other the rest of the way to Harding, Howell & Co.
As the carriage rambled to a stop in front of the store, Cassie hopped from the conveyance as though she couldn’t wait a second longer to be away from her sister. Then she glanced back over her shoulder at Sophie. “I shall find you when I’m ready to leave.”
So they would not be shopping together. Sophie could not bring herself to mind that one bit. Perusing the fans and gloves would be vastly more enjoyable all by herself than with Cassie and her silent glares.