Chapter Twenty
Hetty beat the maid to the door. She threw it open, and all but fell into Guy’s arms. He looked so weary and sad that she stilled. His cheek was bruised and there was a cut on his chin. Her questions fell away as shock dried her mouth.
He greeted her aunt in a sober voice, then sank onto the sofa.
Hetty sat beside him, her concern and curiosity getting the better of her. “What happened?”
Guy held up a hand. “I shall tell you.”
She swallowed, not knowing what to expect and fearful of what he might say. She was sure it wasn’t good.
Guy’s voice was strained as he related the happenings of the last week.
When his voice fell away, Hetty, horrified and confused, rubbed her arms, and tried to sort through what he just told her. His twin brother whom he had thought dead in France was a veritable monster. He’d tried to kill Guy and take his place at Rosecroft Hall.
“Vincent accused Papa of deserting him when the fire engulfed our chateau. But he did not. I couldn’t make him believe it. He hated us.” He sounded so bitter it made her yearn to try to soothe him. “Life is cruel. Fate has cheated me of a brother.”
When Guy lapsed into silence, her aunt offered her heartfelt sympathy and excused herself.
Hetty moved closer to Guy on the sofa. “My poor love.”
Guy placed an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. The muscles on his arms were hard with tension. Tears blinded her.
“It’s over, Hetty.” He cradled her face in his hands and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. “I’ve missed you,” he said quietly, and kissed her. “Will you be my wife?”
“Oh, Guy, yes. I love you.” her heart throbbed with love for him. She coiled her arms around his neck and kissed him. As he held her, Hetty stroked his hair and discovered a lump. She pulled away. “You’ve been hurt.”
Guy shrugged. “I’m lucky to have a hard head. Hopefully, I still have my wits.”
She leant her head against his shoulder. “It’s all over now.” She sighed with relief.
His arm tightened around her.
Hetty sat up. “Guy!”
His eyes widened. “What is it?”
“Your sister, Genevieve has arrived in London. We traveled together to Hampstead where you were last seen. She has taken a house in Portland Place.”
Guy grinned. “Genevieve is here?”
“As soon as I received your letter, I sent a servant to let her know you were safe.”
“Merci.” He sobered. “You and she went to Hampstead?”
Hetty wished he didn’t look so defeated and unlike himself. “We traveled in your sister’s opulent turquoise carriage,” she said with a smile. “The coach is lined with fine parquetry, paisley silk curtains, velvet upholstery, and gold carriage lamps. I’ve never seen the like!”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Genevieve is never without her comforts.”
“She was determined to find you.”
He drew away and stood. “I must go to her.”
“Of course, you must. I like her very much, so please tell her I hope we meet again very soon.”
“Tomorrow, I’d like to show you the Mayfair house which I found the day before Vincent…” Guy shook his head. “There might be a delay, Hetty.” He rubbed his hand over his nape. “I must consult with my solicitor and I must ask your father. After that, the banns must read. Reverend Dewhurst at St. Georges will advise us of a suitable date.”
“Oh, Guy.” Hetty gazed at him with longing. “I do so want to be with you.”
He pulled her into his arms and took her mouth in a kiss. “Tomorrow,” he promised, drawing away.
She touched his cheek still unsure, still unable to fully trust in their future and wondering why. “But is everything all right now?”
His eyes looked shadowed. He took her hand in his big one and kissed it. “Oui, mon cheri amour.”
After Guy left, Hetty told her aunt about the house.
Aunt Emily hesitated. “But I cannot go with you. I have an engagement with the poetry society.”
“That’s all right, Aunt. It’s no longer a false engagement. We are to marry.” Hetty paused, something still wasn’t right. His eyes were troubled. Was it because he mourned his brother?
“Well, of course you are to marry,” her aunt said with a laugh.
Hetty, about to leave the room swung around. “You knew?”
“I did. That first day. When I saw how he looked at you.”
“You don’t find it surprising that a baron should wish to marry a poor man’s daughter?”
“Poor? Your father is very careful with his money, but he is far plumper in the pocket than he makes out, Hetty.”
Startled, Hetty remembered the dowry. “I had no idea. We live comfortably but simply in Digswell.”
“That is your father’s preference. But he might be called a nabob. He made a good deal of money with the East India Company while in India.”
“Father a nabob? I can’t believe it!”
“Nevertheless, it is true. The Cavendish family is a very old and important family even if we do not hail from its upper echelons. You are quite sure your baron is wealthy?”
“His father lost properties during the Revolution and Guy’s estate, Rosecroft Hall, is sorely in need of renovation. But he appears to have the money to repair it.”
Aunt Emily scooped up the gray cat at her feet and followed Hetty up the stairs. “It doesn’t matter, my dear. I’m quite sure he loves you.”
Hetty didn’t care if Guy was as poor as a church mouse. “I am looking forward to seeing the house tomorrow.”
Her aunt paused, a hand on the banister. “It’s regrettable that I cannot see it, too. We plan to discuss Coleridge’s poem Kubla Khan. He wrote it in ’97, but he reserved it for private readings until this year when Lord Byron persuaded him to publish it. Such a pity you’ll miss it.” She paused for breath at the top of the stairs. “I trust you to act with decorum tomorrow, Hetty. I expect there will be someone there to show you around the house.”
“I daresay, Aunt.” Hetty hoped there wasn’t. She needed time alone with Guy. Almost losing him had frightened her, and she sensed there was something else he wasn’t telling her.
*
Despite the joy of an emotional reunion with his sister, Guy felt drained when he walked through the door of his temporary home in Berkley Square. He and Genevieve had reminisced about their childhood memories. Genevieve was appalled at what Vincent had done but was still sad that she’d been unable to attend his burial. She expressed her approval of Guy’s choice of bride. “You could not do better than Hetty, Gee,” she said.
Guy agreed. He hoped he would live to enjoy what promised to be a wonderful life.
Strathairn’s butler approached him at the door. “My lord, a parcel arrived for you today.”
Mystified, Guy tore off the paper. Inside were his evening coat, hat, and cane. A letter written in Lord Taylor’s bold strokes explained that Guy’s coat and hat had been left in a cupboard and overlooked by the maids until recently. He and Lady Taylor hoped all was well with him and that next time he visited them he would come to say goodbye before departing into the night and worrying all those who cared for him.
Guy shook his head and went to join John in the library.
His friend spun the bronze tiepin in his fingers. “It would be smart for you to wear this eagle pin when you meet with Count Forney.”
Guy looked at it with distaste.
“We have reason to believe the secret code they use might be Longwood,” John said. “The house on Saint Helena where Napoleon has been incarcerated.”
Guy raised his brows. “So, I’m to visit him and use that word?”
“Yes and declare yourself to be one of them. Once you are drawn into his group, we will make our move.”
“I may not be admitted a second time.”
“I doubt you’ll be turned away. But if he refuses, send the tie pin to him.”
Something tugged at Guy’s memory.
The door opened, and Georgina entered. “You wished to see me, John?”
Guy stood, ready to excuse himself.
“No, stay, Guy,” John said. “We shall need to speak further.” He beckoned Georgina into the room. She came to stand in front of him, unusually meek with her hands clasped together. She glanced at Guy. “What became of you at the ball, Guy?”
“Never mind quizzing Lord Fortescue, Georgina. His activities do not concern you. As you are no doubt aware, I have received a morning visit from Julian, His Grace, the Duke of Broadstairs, who has requested your hand in marriage.”
Georgina gave a confident smile. “And what did you tell him?”
“That at seventeen, you are too young.”
Her face fell. “No! You didn’t,” she cried. “You wouldn’t! I am eighteen in three months’ time.”
John grinned. “Everything you wish for falls into your lap, does it not? I’m sure it is not good for your character.”
Georgina rolled her eyes. “Pooh! See how he teases me, Guy?”
John smiled. “I told him the marriage can take place when you turn eighteen.”
“Then I am betrothed?”
“It would seem so. He will call tomorrow, no doubt, with a handsome betrothal ring.”
Georgina squealed in delight. She kissed her brother on both cheeks. “You are a beast. I shall be glad to leave home.”
She turned to Guy. “I shall kiss you, too, Guy. I am so happy!”
Before her brother could protest, she had kissed Guy’s cheek and flounced toward the door.
When it closed, John shook his head. “I’m fond of my sister. But I’ll be relieved to hand her to Broadstairs.”
“Does she love the duke?”
“I imagine so. She’s been busy making him jealous for some months.”
Guy laughed.
“Now…” John turned serious. “Any questions?”
“You’ve jogged my memory,” Guy said. “Something Forney mentioned that I thought odd at the time. He said he enjoyed England when the shadows in the wood grow long.”
“Longwood!” John’s eyes gleamed. “That confirms the password! We have the wolf by the ears! We’ll get him and the whole pack along with him.”
“Preferably before they get me,” Guy said with a grimace.