Chapter Twenty-Four
After settling the matter with the Chiddingston magistrate, Strathairn spent the night at a rowdy inn where his sleep was constantly disturbed, but he wouldn’t have slept much, anyway. When he’d listened to Sibella haltingly explain what she had endured, his teeth had clamped to prevent the curses on his tongue. Filled with helpless rage, he wanted to sweep her into his arms, to take her away. Far away. To Yorkshire. No one would ever hurt her again.
One thing he knew was that somehow, he and Sibella would marry. He no longer cared what Chaloner said. Once this business with the Frenchman was dealt with, he would leave this work to someone else.
At cock’s crow, he was back on the road and arrived at Lamplugh Abbey after breakfast, finding Sibella waiting for him dressed in a blue pelisse robe that reminded him of spring and irises. During their drive back to Brandreth Park, he tried gently to introduce the possibility of their marrying sometime in the future. But she shook her head and refused to discuss it. It was the wrong time; he wasn’t usually so insensitive. He mustn’t put his own desires first. While aware that Sibella needed her home and family at this time, more than she needed him, he still fought the urge to pull up the horse and take her in his arms.
She began to talk about Coombe. How she had doubted him from the first. Her voice was strained. She was so hurt, he could only guide his horses along the road and quietly listen.
“I intend to remove myself from society after Maria’s wedding. I know Chaloner will agree. It’s the right thing to do.”
While he didn’t agree, he realized it wasn’t the time to try to argue the point. That would come later. “For how long?” His voice sounded rough. With the reins in his right hand, he took hold of hers with his left, entwining her gloved fingers with his.
“Until the whispers die down and I feel able to pick up the threads of my life again.”
The pain in her voice made him close his lips on another plea. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting.”
She huffed out a sigh and extracted her hand from his. “John, this doesn’t mean… That’s all behind us now. Please don’t feel you have to…”
“Don’t get used to being a maiden aunt, Sibella. If you take too long, I’ll be coming for you.”
She darted a glance at him. “What would you do if you did?”
He grinned. “Throw you over my shoulder and run off with you?”
She gave a shaky laugh. “You are not to give up your work because of me. You would only come to resent me for it. And you won’t leave it, will you?”
Pleased that he’d made her laugh, he turned to look at her. “I plan to. But not yet, Sibella. Remember this while you wander the gardens of Brandreth Park, I have never doubted my feelings for you.”
Much as he wanted to hold her and comfort her, he concentrated on the road. Chaloner must be made to understand how close she came to death at Coombe’s hands. What a tragedy it would have been had she’d married the man.
He was prepared to fight Chaloner if it was he she was trying to placate by burying herself in the country.
They approached Brandreth Park as the sun slanted long shadows over the lawn and warmed the fine old redbrick and sandstone house with its tapestry of ivy on the walls. The family was shocked at the news, the women rallying around Sibella. Her mother and sisters whisked her away, leaving him alone with Chaloner in his study.
Strathairn eyed Chaloner over his paper-strewn desk, and his anger removed any desire for tact. He was brutal and unsparing when he related what had happened.
Chaloner blanched and appeared shamefaced as well he might. “After the wedding, Sibella says she will retire to the country until this dies down.”
“I think Coombe’s devilry should be shouted from the rooftops!” Strathairn thundered.
“Well…it’s not how I wish to handle it,” Chaloner replied. “Sibella is sensible, I’m sure she will agree. Let Lady Coombe’s relatives take up her cause.”
Strathairn ground his teeth. Sensible Sibella had agreed to marry a man she disliked, a veritable monster, to satisfy the demands of her family and society. He stared at the marquess and his anger, also directed at himself, exploded, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He thumped the desk, causing the silver inkpot to dance and two quills to roll over the surface. “Surely you still don’t believe you know what’s right for your sister!”
Chaloner leaned back, surprised by his onslaught.
“You more or less forced her to become engaged to Coombe,” Strathairn continued ruthlessly. “And obviously, did not investigate the character of the man thoroughly enough.”
Chaloner shifted in his seat, a flush staining his cheeks. “Should I have encouraged a marriage between you two? You, who showed little inclination to marry? You, who preferred the society of a tavern to the ton, John? You, who commits shady acts on behalf of the government? God knows what that entails? Best we don’t go into that!”
Strathairn eyed him coolly. “A single man lives as he chooses.”
Chaloner cast an accusatory look at him. “I have never imbibed or lost money at the gambling tables.”
Strathairn, thinking Chaloner might have handled Vaughn better if he’d lived a little before he married, arched an eyebrow. “No, you never did.”
“I wished for a happy life for Sibella. She spent too long daydreaming about a man who wouldn’t marry her. Would you not have done the same in my place?”
Strathairn refused to acknowledge the truth of Chaloner’s words. He had been very poor husband material after the war, and before it, if he was honest. That wasn’t who he was now. “I would have let her choose her husband. And never considered a man she hadn’t warmed to. You should have valued Sibella’s intelligence.”
“She made up her own mind in the end. And on the face of it, Coombe was eminently respectable being an heir to a title with a tidy fortune. It would have been nigh impossible to discover what lay beneath the persona he presented to the world.”
What made Coombe attractive to Chaloner was best left unsaid. Strathairn had to agree that he’d failed her, too. But he wouldn’t let guilt cause him to lose his focus. He intended to be there when her lovely eyes shone with the pure joy of living, no longer inhibited by family obligations. He folded his arms. “So now you’re happy for Sibella to waste her life hiding away at Brandreth Park?”
Chaloner sighed. “I’ve never wanted that kind of life for her. That’s why I urged her to marry. But I will admit, I did get that badly wrong.”
“You’ll get your wish. I intend to marry her if she’ll have me. I don’t much care whether you approve or not.”
Chaloner paused, concerned eyes searching his. “John, you could be dead and gone any day. We both know that.”
“When this mission ends, I shall ask her.”
“After this mission ends, you say. As if you are employed to make a survey of the roads! I pray you find this devil quickly and emerge in one piece. You are a valued friend of this family. We will always be grateful for what you did to help Vaughn. And yes, I failed there, too.”
Strathairn suffered a surprising wave of compassion for Chaloner. He looked so defeated. “When you resign from your position with the military, you have my permission to ask Sibella for her hand in marriage.”
Strathairn wasn’t about to disclose his plans. He disliked being dictated to. His fingers dug into his palms. “A murderous scoundrel has killed one of my agents. I’ll see him hang.”
“Then you must concentrate on that, John. There are lives at stake as well as yours. Maria might even be in danger at her own wedding if this scum isn’t caught.”
Strathairn pushed back the chair and rose. “It’s back to London for me. You will say my goodbyes?”
Walking to the door with Strathairn, Chaloner shook his hand. “I pray all goes well. And when you are free of this, I would be honored to welcome you into our family.”
His throat tight, Strathairn gave him a thin smile. “Then please speak favorably about me to Sibella.”
Chaloner shook his head and a rare smile lit his eyes. “I believe you will do that admirably yourself when the time comes.”
It couldn’t come fast enough. He was never good at waiting. But he saw the sense of leaving her with her family although he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to at all. Strathairn left the house, biting down hard on his impatience.
*
The sky lightening to gray told her it was almost dawn. Sibella tugged at the bedcoverings, which were in a hopeless tangle. She had been lying awake for hours reliving the horror of the past few days. Why had John left without saying goodbye? Would he, as he threatened, come to claim her? She remembered his fierce declaration and thumped her pillow as a quiver raced through her. But he had important work to do. Dangerous work. She shivered.
When the morning sun rimmed the curtains, she darted out of bed, pulling on her cambric gown and sturdy half boots. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and tucked her hair beneath a cap. The servants had just begun to stir as she walked through the house and left by the French windows.
The garden was hushed and still, the flowers fading. Sibella drew the shawl closer around her. She had always enjoyed this time of the year; the air tinged with the scent of dew-drenched grass, the wisps of mist swirling away through the trees. But today, she found no joy in it. She tried not to dwell on the last few days but thought instead of her crushed dreams and the lonely time ahead. The dreary reflection brought a sigh to her lips.
She hurried across the lawn trying to lighten her mood. Maria needed her now. The wedding loomed and should rightly be a thrilling day, but the event was shrouded by the dark cloud of Coombe’s death and the shocking news that a madman might strike as everyone gathered at St. Paul’s Cathedral.
The first rays of sunlight penetrated the chestnut’s canopy of leaves above her, but there was little warmth in it as she walked on, the fallen leaves crunching underfoot. She retraced her steps to the house before she was missed.
Once she’d dressed she went down to breakfast. Chaloner entered the breakfast room. “You’re up early.”
A footman pulled out her favorite chair near the window. “I could not sleep.”
“Poor Sib. You’ve been through the mill.” His eyes looked shadowed as he drew out the chair and sat opposite her. “I am to blame. I wish I could make it up to you.”
She reached across and touched his hand. “Don’t be silly. You just wanted the best for me.”
“I still do.”
“Have you read the letters?”
Chaloner scrubbed his hands over his hair. “Yes. It made fearsome reading. Made my blood run cold.” He swallowed. “That I might have talked you into marrying him, horrifies me.”
“Was John very angry?”
“Seething. I think there’s a dent in my desk.”
Her eyes widened. “You weren’t to know. It would have been hard to discover any of it. Not unless you sent someone to the West Indies, and even then, the truth about Mary Jane would not have come to light. Coombe kept his secrets close.”
“Still. I’m devastated, Sibella. It’s my dearest wish to see you happily settled.”
She nodded absent-mindedly as Belton came in. “Coffee, Lord Brandreth? Lady Sibella?”
When the butler left again, Chaloner said, “I promised Strathairn I’d speak to you. He plans to ask for your hand when he is free to claim it. I gave him permission.”
Her breath quickened and her cheeks became warm. “I expected he might. But I can’t.”
Chaloner threw up his hands. “I declare, I’ll never understand women. Don’t you want to marry him?”
She had always wanted to marry John. Desperately. But now… “I believe he wants to rescue me.”
“From what? The danger from Coombe is at an end.”
“He has become very protective of me.”
“Not such a bad trait to have in a husband.”
“It is self-sacrificing.” She pushed back a lock of hair that escaped from her cap. “I don’t want to come between him and his work. It would be awful if he just gave it up for me.”
“I did not get that impression. He was quite forceful. Quite passionate in fact.”
“I practically threw myself at him, Chaloner. And he talked good sense back at me.”
Chaloner’s eyebrows rose. “You did?”
She sucked in a breath. “Did he say he would resign?” If only he’d been like this before. Could she really believe him now?
“Not exactly. But I made it clear…and I gained the impression that he intends to.”
“He wants to?” She shivered, remembering a pair of determined gray eyes. “Or does he feel he has to?”
“I know he’s a hardened soldier, but beneath the bravado I suspect he has a soft heart.”
A rush or warmth spread through her. “Yes, he does.”
“But nothing can occur while this dangerous affair hovers over us.”
Her heart started to beat hard. “Of course not.”
“Strathairn vows to find this man who has killed his comrade. I think it has become personal.”
“Oh no!” Sibella cried out.
“Have some faith in him, Sib.” Chaloner leaned back in his chair and smiled. “So, you’re not interested in marrying him then?”
“I need to speak to him.”
“Not a good idea right now. Wait until after the wedding.”
“Yes. You’re right.” She stirred her coffee as the footman brought the toast to the table.
Chaloner finished his coffee. He leapt to his feet and rubbed his hands together. “Enough of this. I’m hungry.” He crossed to the sideboard and lifted the covers on the hot dishes. “Mmm. Kidneys.”
Sibella buttered a piece of toast and added strawberry jam. She took a bite. “The strawberries were excellent this year,” she uttered inanely. “I must compliment the cook.” She put the toast down barely touched and left the table. “I shall eat later, Chaloner. I’m not hungry.”
As the footman opened the door, Chaloner called to her. “Don’t worry, Sib. I’ll wager Strathairn’s been in trickier situations than this in the past.”
She walked along the corridor, fear churning her stomach.