Chapter 5

5

With the coldmahogany door of Sumhall under his clammy fingers, Richard braced himself for the confession that was sure to shock his family. Teanby, the family butler, maintained his composure, his face a mask of professionalism, but the slight tilt of his head revealed his concern for Richard.

How could Richard convince his family his sudden engagement to Miss Grant was genuine when they had never heard of her? They knew what had happened with Lady Charity. They also were very much aware of his habits over the past five years.

“Is everything all right, my lord?” Teanby finally inquired.

Richard forced a smile and straightened his shoulders, not wanting to worry the old butler further. Teanby had served the family for as long as Richard could remember and was more than just a servant.

“Of course, Teanby. Are they all inside?”

“They are.”

Richard nodded, his heart pounding against his rib cage. “Good.”

It wasn’t good at all, but there was no point in delaying the inevitable. He pushed open the door and entered.

Calliope, Preston, and Grandmama, sitting on two elegant yellow-beige sofas, looked up at him. Between them was an exquisitely carved tea table bearing a white porcelain tea set painted with red carnations and gold patterns of interwoven vines. Mama had brought that set from Spain when she’d moved to England as a young lady, and the family had used it ever since. And since her death six years ago, using it had helped them keep Mama’s memory alive.

Actually, Mama was in every part of the sitting room because she’d designed each detail of it. She was in the soft pastel-yellow-paneled walls and the gilt frames because she’d craved sunshine in cold England. Large and small paintings of sunlit landscapes full of orange groves, flower meadows, fruit gardens, and Mediterranean seascapes brought warmth and summer right into the room.

The Dowager Duchess of Grandhampton, a gracefully aged lady with silvery-gray hair and striking blue eyes, dressed in the finest fashions of the previous century, put her cup of tea on its saucer. “Richard, dearest. How good to see you.” Her gaze took him in. “I see you had some adventures last night?”

His fingers itched, and he briskly walked towards the large marble fireplace with its shiny black grate for coal. His steps were muffled as he reached the carpet with red patterns of flowers and vines that covered the majority of the floor.

“I’m glad to see you, too, Grandmama,” he replied as he laid his hand on the intricate moldings of the fireplace, the marble cool and soothing against his palm. “Adventures… You could say that.”

Right. He should have gone up and changed before appearing in front of them after a night of debauchery. How would he convince them he was marrying someone for love when he looked like he’d spent the night in a brothel?

“We were just speaking of what to do about Spencer,” said Calliope.

Calliope, his younger sister, gave him a bright smile like she always did. He knew her better than anyone in the family. Perhaps it was also that they were so alike in their appearance—both had their father’s auburn hair and big blue eyes—whereas both Spencer and Preston were all Mama—black hair and eyes.

“No, we weren’t,” said Preston, frowning at her. “You’re trying to change the topic. We were talking about your marriage prospects. It is time for you to find a husband.”

Preston had married Miss Penelope Beckett nearly two months ago for revenge against her father who had hired Blackmore to hurt Spencer. Despite Preston’s resolve to not feel anything but hatred for his enemy’s daughter, he had fallen in love with her and was now irrevocably happy.

“Is Teanby bringing you another cup?” Preston asked.

Richard gave him a quick smile of appreciation and took a seat on the sofa opposite Calliope. “He is.”

Tension in his stomach made him breathe quickly. Just last night, the whole family had gathered in Newdale Place, Preston and Penelope’s new home, and Preston had given them the news that changed all their worlds. The news that they hadn’t buried Spencer.

They had all decided they’d do everything they could to find him. First thing was to go to Blackmore and ask him for information, and Richard had volunteered.

And now, somehow, he needed to give them the news he was engaged to Blackmore’s sister—and convince them all it was for love and had nothing to do with his mission.

They’d see right through him, he was sure.

But he was most worried about Calliope, who narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s wrong with you, brother?” she asked. “Something happened. Why are you so distressed?”

“I’m not distressed,” Richard replied.

“You are. I’m not even talking about your wrinkled clothes or your hair that clearly hasn’t been touched by Theo. I see you like that quite frequently.”

Theo was his valet. There. She saw right through him.

“What I’m referring to is your face, as if you’ve just been struck by lightning… And are those muddy smudges all over your clothes from a dog’s paws?”

Richard looked down at his clothes. The dry black mud left by Hercules was undeniable evidence.

“Just an accident,” said Richard, his stomach dropping at the thought of bringing up his engagement. “I’ll go and change soon. What do I hear about you looking for a husband?”

The diversion worked. Calliope’s blue eyes were like spyglasses on him. But when he didn’t back down and didn’t look away, she scoffed and leaned back in the sofa.

“You’re quite mistaken, brother,” she said. “I am not looking for a husband. He is.”

The strength of her gaze landed now on Preston, who cocked a single dark eyebrow and returned the stare. “And I will not leave you alone until I find you one.”

“But why do you want me to?” demanded Calliope. “Should I not be allowed my own opinion about how I spend the rest of my life?”

“You need someone to take care of you and protect you,” said Preston. “And to forbid you to do that nonsense with an investigative agency you keep talking about.”

“But I don’t need anyone to protect me.” Calliope batted her eyelashes. “I have you two.”

His heart melted, as did his brother’s, he knew.

His little fox, Richard thought. People thought she was a wallflower hiding behind books, chess tables, and, quite frankly, behind the backs of eager debutantes. In truth, she was so much more. Like him, she had mastered giving the appearance of someone she wasn’t.

Grandmama chuckled and patted her hand. “Well done, love.”

Even Preston, who preferred to appear cold and unaffected, shook his head with a soft smile. He sighed and walked to take his place on the sofa next to her. Calliope hid a satisfied smirk behind a cup of tea as she took a sip.

Using the moment of silence, Richard reached for the courage to say what he had to say.

For Spencer,he reminded himself.

He licked his lips and cleared his throat and said, “I’m engaged.”

Tea burst out of Calliope’s lips, spraying right into Preston’s face. With his eyes blinking the milky drink away, drops dripping from his chin and hair onto his shirt and breeches, he turned to Richard, looking like a wet but dangerous panther. Grandmama froze with a biscuit between her lips, her eyes as large as magnifying glasses.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Preston,” Calliope muttered as she put her cup back onto its saucer and reached for a white napkin folded neatly on the tea table.

“Never mind that,” Preston snapped as he jumped to his feet, tore the napkin from her hand, and wiped his face. “What the devil did you say, brother?”

“He said he was engaged!” exclaimed Grandmama.

“To whom?” demanded Calliope.

“When?” barked Preston. “Why haven’t you told us before?”

“To Miss Jane Grant,” Richard said. “Today. I just came from her brother.”

“Who’s Miss Jane Grant?” asked Calliope. “I don’t remember being introduced to her…”

“I’ve never heard of her,” said Preston.

Grandmama narrowed her eyes into two slits. “Miss Jane Grant… Is she any relation to the deceased Lord Grant? He was a baron.”

“Yes,” said Richard, his palms sweating again under the intent, sharp gazes of his family. Grandmama knew almost everyone in the ton; of course he shouldn’t be surprised she had heard of Miss Grant or her father. “She’s his daughter. Nothing escapes you, Grandmama.”

“Nothing, indeed…” With a thoughtful expression, she fiddled with the diamond ring on her finger. “Lord Grant had an illegitimate son, his firstborn. Everybody knew that because he had the boy grow up in his household, educated like a proper gentleman. But for obvious reasons the boy could never inherit the title. And then the boy disappeared from society after he graduated from Oxford. But instead of going the way of a solicitor or a clerk like most men in his situation, he sank into a world inappropriate for gentlemen. He became a poor connection. So when Lord Grant died, Miss Grant wasn’t welcome anymore. But I forget the brother’s name…”

Richard’s heart thumped in his palms. “It’s Thorne Blackmore.”

Complete silence fell on the room. In the hallway, footsteps sounded, growing louder until the door opened and Teanby came in with a cup of Mama’s tea service on a small tray. He froze for a mere moment as his glance stalled on Preston before continuing as though there was nothing amiss. He put the cup on the tea table.

“Will there be anything else?” he asked.

“No,” the four of them said as one.

Teanby nodded, his glance quickly scanning the family.

When the door closed behind him, Preston turned to Richard once again. “What on earth are you thinking? Engaged to a criminal’s sister? What’s going on?”

Richard shot to his feet. He couldn’t contain the terrible tension in his chest. “I love her,” he said. “We’re in love.”

He had to keep up the pretense to find Spencer. He’d do anything.

“In love?” Calliope scoffed, quite unladylike. “You never even mentioned her before. How could you be in love?”

Richard glanced at the empty teacup that was meant for him. To convince them, he needed to bring up the last thing in the world he wanted to. The one person the sheer mention of whom made him want to drop to his knees from pain.

“I haven’t said anything to any of you”—Richard marched towards the sideboard that held several glasses and a crystal decanter of brandy—“because of Lady Charity.”

The mention of his former fiancée struck the three of them silent once again, looking at one another with caution.

“Oh,” said Calliope finally.

Richard poured himself a glass of brandy, its sharp scent filling his nostrils. “Exactly. Oh.”

“Dearest, you know we just don’t want you to get hurt again,” said Grandmama.

“It was you, in fact,” said Preston, who walked to the sideboard, and Richard poured another glass for him, “who swore five years ago to never get engaged again.”

“Precisely!” said Calliope. “Can you blame us for being surprised? Her betrayal destroyed you.”

Every word was true. Even speaking of it made his heart bleed in agony. Richard drank the brandy, savoring the rich taste that burned his mouth. Seeing Lady Charity kiss another man was the event that had borne the rake he’d become. He drank and slept around to forget the pain of betrayal and rejection at the hands of the only woman he’d ever loved.

“And where would you have even met her?” demanded Grandmama. “She’d never be welcome in any proper home in London.”

Richard’s jaw tightened and he put the glass down. “I don’t have to tell you everything,” he said as he walked towards the door. “I just wanted to give you the news, but I don’t owe you any explanations.”

“Where are you going?” demanded Preston. “What about Blackmore? What did he say about Spencer?”

“He’ll tell me more later,” said Richard. “I must take my leave now. I need to change, and I have another engagement today.”

“Don’t think I believe you for a moment!” cried Calliope as she followed Richard to the door, which he opened.

“Bring her here, dearest!” cried Grandmama. “We must meet your bride.”

Richard nodded, his veins growing cold. “I will.”

As he ran up the stairs to his bedchamber, he didn’t know if he should be relieved or concerned. What was certain was that it would take a great deal more work and acting—by both himself and Miss Grant—to convince his family, and the whole ton, that this was real.