“You’re strong and stubborn, just look at that jaw of yours. I wouldn’t want a man I could kick into the dirt. You’re just as I want you to be.”
“Thank you, perhaps,” he said, then leaned down and gave her a very light kiss on her mouth. “Oh damn,” he said, and quickly drew back. “We have to wait until at least after luncheon. It isn’t fair. I’m married to you, it’s all legal, and I still have to wait. What were those other things?”
She giggled. “I will say only that they were beach sorts of activities. Now, if you’re very good to me, I can perhaps have a stomach gripe, turn convincingly green, and beg to be excused. You, naturally, wouldn’t want to leave me alone in my misery. You would want to nurture me, feed me soup, wipe my sweating brow. What do you think?”
He stared down at her, his eyes bright on her face. “Your mind is terrifying.”
“It’s a grand idea, isn’t it?”
He laughed, a full, free laugh, and Tregeagle turned to his comrades and said in a depressed voice, “Did you hear that, Mr. Polgrain? Mr. Coombe? He’s laughing. Nightingale men rarely laugh, particularly at something a female says.” Tregeagle sighed deeply. “As far as I know, his lordship’s father never laughed a day in his life. His lordship’s father would have spat upon anyone who dared to laugh in his presence. He would have reviled such a thing. Ah, it’s an unhappy day.”
“She is a pernicious influence,” said Polgrain.
Coombe shuddered, tugged at the thin edge of hair just above his ears, and dabbed the perspiration from the bald flesh just above. “Perhaps we could endure having her here at least for a little while, but more than just a little while? It is too much, gentlemen, far too much.”
“We will endure,” Tregeagle said. “Just look at those pregnant females, all lined up in a row. It hurts me to gaze at them.”
“Mr. Owen will take them back to Scrilady Hall after luncheon, Mr. Tregeagle, don’t worry,” Polgrain said. “We can bear seeing them and their affliction for just a few more hours. Oh dear, I must get back to the kitchen. It galled me to do it, but I have made a champagne punch to rival the punch served by all the big nobs at their weddings in London.”
“It’s not what we’re used to, Mr. Polgrain, no indeed,” Tregeagle said, and sighed deeply again. “Feed everyone well and let’s hear nice healthy belches. We don’t want it said that the men of Mount Hawke can’t carry off anything and carry it off well, despite their pain.”
“I still can’t believe he actually married her,” Coombe said, looking hard at the young lady who was now Lady Chilton and mistress of Mount Hawke. “If he wanted to bed her there was no reason to marry her. He should have just taken her to bed and gotten her out of his system. Now we shall have to suffer her presence day in and day out.”
“Ah, but she’s a lady and thus all men’s downfall,” Tregeagle said. “To bed her, he had to marry her.”
“She’s a lady to begin with, perhaps most of them are, but she’ll change,” Polgrain said, “just like all the others. And she won’t be here long, you’ll see,” he continued. “Don’t you remember? His lordship’s father brought his wife to visit here but once, before he understood the way of things and took her away again.”
“Aye, but don’t forget, his father was still alive and the master here. He wasn’t about to let her stay. In fact, if his son hadn’t disobeyed him, she never would have even visited here for a single day. But our lordship here, I don’t know. He read the diaries, but he believes it’s all nonsense.”
“He will learn,” Coombe said, patting his bald head yet again. “Poor young man, he will learn. I remember all the stories my father told me about the Nightingale men. I suppose we’re lucky that there was enough vigilance in them so that a male child gets birthed and is indeed a Nightingale and not some other man’s get.”
“Barely in time,” Polgrain said, “barely in time.”
“We will get through this,” Tregeagle said again. “We have much to do and we will do it with efficiency and graciousness. Goodness, all of them with child at once, even that child Alice is with child. It’s dreadful and not to be borne.”
“A remarkable bon mot, Mr. Tregeagle,
” Coombe said.
Owen stood close and all stiff beside his father in the corner of the drawing room in the late-morning shadows. He’d been terrified his father would leap on North during the brief ceremony, but he hadn’t budged from behind the large chair. He looked furious. Owen recognized the dark rage in his father’s eyes; it had been directed at him enough during his life. But he’d held his tongue. He’d done nothing. He was, thankfully, still doing nothing. His hands weren’t even fisted at his sides. Odd, but his father looked older, Owen thought, somehow he seemed to have shrunk. As Mr. Brogan approached, he closely watched his father for any signs of violence.
“Sir,” Mr. Brogan said. “I am the solicitor for the former Miss Derwent-Jones, now Lady Chilton. His lordship asked me to speak plainly to you. He is, in short, now in complete control of her finances and her fortune.”
“Not for long,” Mr. Ffalkes said, and all but snarled. “No, not for bloody long, the damned poaching bounder.”
“Father,” Owen said.
“Be quiet, you little sod, you worthless, ungrateful piece of muck. As for you, sir, I will see you pay for what you’ve had the gall to do to me, why, you—”
Mr. Brogan continued easily, interrupting Mr. Ffalkes with the calm of Bishop Horton. “This envelope is for you, sir. It details all you have done to Lady Chilton, all your plots, your conspiracies that have, thankfully, all failed. It is attested to by Lord Chilton, Lady Chilton, and your son, Owen Ffalkes. Now, if anything were to happen to North Nightingale, then, sir, you would be immediately taken to gaol and then your neck would surely be stretched and you would shortly find yourself quite dead. So you see, it is to your advantage that Lord Chilton remain as healthy as a stoat. Also, if the remote possibility occurred that you weren’t hanged, you would still gain nothing. Lord Chilton’s estate isn’t left to his wife, but rather to his friend, the Earl of Chase. Do you understand me, sir?”
“That’s utter nonsense and you’re lying. I am her relative. The estate couldn’t be left away from her. I would contest it and I would win.”
“Ah, but the viscountess wouldn’t contest anything, sir, thus any action you would contemplate taking would result in you looking like a fool. I beg you to reassess your situation. I encourage you to leave Cornwall and forget the viscountess. It is all over. There is nothing here for you.” Mr. Brogan merely nodded then to Mr. Ffalkes, turned, and left, a look of distaste clear on his pleasant face.
“Damned little cit,” Mr. Ffalkes said. “As for you, Owen, you betrayed me?” He waved the thick envelope in front of his son’s nose.
“No, sir, I did it primarily to protect you. You may not believe that, but it’s true. There is something else Caroline asked me to consult you about.”