Sir John looked irritated but not overly worried, which meant this visit was more reconnoiter than hostile raid. “Sir Gideon. I haven’t seen you since you were a stripling. Now you’ve set the world on its ear, begad. You must come to dinner and tell Lady Susan and me all about your adventures.” He suddenly sobered. “Sorry to hear about your pater and Sir Harold, of course. Mustn’t forget the sad circumstances that brought you back to us.”
“Sir John, is this a social call?” The game commenced. Gideon intended to reveal nothing he didn’t have to.
The man straightened and cast an annoyed glance at his two companions. “Not entirely, although been meaning to pay my respects.”
There was an awkward pause. In his best rake-of-the-ton manner, Gideon arched his eyebrows at the two strangers, who stood in silent menace behind Sir John.
Of course, he’d studied them from the moment he’d entered the room. Just as they’d studied him.
He noted their surprise at his elegance. Thank God for the London tailors he’d patronized upon his return from Rangapindhi. He wanted these wretches to realize they dealt with a man of standing.
Sir John cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Sir Gideon Trevithick, may I present Hubert Farrell, Lord Burkett, and his brother, Lord Felix Farrell?”
Lord Burkett? Good God, the older brother was a bloody marquess. Sarah had kept that salient piece of information to herself.
Gideon had known a large amount of money was in question, and he’d guessed she must come from the gentry at the very least. Until now, he hadn’t realized he tangled with the aristocracy’s upper echelons.
“Delighted, I’m sure, “Gideon said with deliberate boredom, returning the Farrells’ chilly bows with a dismissive bow of his own.
Lord Burkett was in his late twenties, large, powerful, brutish, although already his heavily muscled frame turned to fat. Gideon bit back his sick fury as he pictured those thick hands pummeling Sarah’s tender flesh. Lord Felix, younger by a year or two, was slight, fair, and handsome. Burkett looked confused. Felix looked suspicious. Even on such short acquaintance, Gideon recognized Lord Felix as the more dangerous of the two.
“Get to the meat of the matter, Holland,” Burkett demanded.
“As I said, I’m sure Sir Gideon doesn’t know…”
Burkett glared at Gideon and spoke over the magistrate. “We’ve lost our sister, Lady Charis Weston.”
Gideon sat with a show of nonchalance and gestured to his visitors to do the same. Although his impulse was to throw the brothers out on their blue-blooded rumps once he’d delivered a well-deserved beating. After that agonizing scene upstairs with Sarah, he itched to work his turmoil out in violence. Nobody deserved a pasting more than these bastards.
Sir John took the sofa near the fireplace. Lord Felix selected a chair nearby. Burkett remained standing in the center of the room, a bullish, aggressive presence. How in the name of all that was holy had Sarah survived the rough guardianship of these villains?
Then he realized what Burkett had said. Sarah apparently wasn’t his charge’s real name.
Charis Weston.
Lord Felix’s attention fixed on his face, seeking guilt or fear. Keep looking, hellspawn, Gideon told him silently. Compared to the Nawab of Rangapindhi, Felix was a toy.
Without difficulty, he maintained his disinterested drawl. “Commiserations. Although I’m not sure how that’s my concern.”
“You were seen with her in Winchester and Portsmouth,” Felix said sharply. He tried to hide it, but desperation to lay his hands on Charis seeped from his tense frame. “I imagine she told you a pack of lies about needing help. She’s a flighty piece, almost feebleminded, who ran off in a fit of pique. We seek her for her own good before she comes to harm. Is she here?”
Damn, their departure from Winchester must have been observed although he’d been so careful. Gideon kept his voice even. “Ah, you mean the poor waif I gave transport to on her way to her aunt in Portsmouth?”
“She has no aunt in Portsmouth,” Burkett growled, taking a step closer. He was clearly accustomed to using his bulk to intimidate.
Gideon shrugged. “That was her story in Winchester. Chit claimed she’d been set upon by footpads. She was in a bad way. Knocked about.”
Burkett shifted uncomfortably, but Felix’s eyes remained cold and intent. Gideon retained his bland expression as he privately consigned them both to Hades.
“I grieve to hear that. A lone woman on the road faces many dangers. That’s why we’re eager to return her to her loving family.” Felix made a creditable attempt at sounding concerned.
“Commendable,” Gideon murmured, cursing the oily bastard for a liar and a fraud. The bruises on Sarah’s—no, Charis’s—face were testament to how loving her family was.
“As we haven’t found her on the road to Penrhyn, we can only surmise she’s staying with you. Pray send for her. We’ll end this lamentable episode and any inconvenience you suffer, Sir Gideon.” As he stood, Lord Felix’s tone became if anything more unctuous. Gideon suppressed a shudder of loathing. “Clearly you’re a man of honor, and a lady is safe in your company. But the world may not be so kind in its assessment. Our sister’s reputation is at stake, so we’d appreciate your keeping details of this unfortunate incident mum.”
Gideon struggled not to plant his fist in Felix’s smug face. But he’d learned self-control in the hardest school. His response gave no indication of his abhorrence for these men. “I’d love to help you, my dear fellow. If indeed this girl is your sister.” He let his tone descend into regret. “But she ran off after the ruckus in Portsmouth. My man and I tried to find her but with no success. I suspect she’s still there.”
“You expect us to believe you abandoned a defenseless woman?” Felix hissed, clenching his fists by his sides.