The Earl Claims His Wife (25 page)

“This evening, at the Covent Garden. You are going? I know Her Grace was to invite you to join our party in their box.”

“She did.”

“I will see you then.”

He didn’t give her the opportunity to say no but let go of her arm and walked away to where Holburn waited with his brow burrowed with concern.

Inside the coach, one of the hardest tasks of Gillian’s life was to pretend in front of Ruby’s curious eyes that all was as it should be.

When the driver delivered them to her front door, she asked him to wait a moment while she penned a note to the duchess offering her deepest regrets to her friend that she and her husband would not be able to attend the performance at Covent Garden with them that evening.

“I’m glad you could join me,” Lord Liverpool said to Brian as they sat down to lunch at Boodle’s. The club was known for its food and, since it did not have a political bent, its convivial atmosphere. Brian was Liverpool’s guest. He assumed this meant the cabinet minister had reached a decision concerning his wish to be appointed to his staff.

“I’m honored that you invited me,” Brian said, placing his napkin in his lap.

It was a late lunch and Liverpool had requested a table away from the others in the dining room—another good omen—but still close to the warmth of the fireplace to fight off the chill out of doors.

For the first few minutes they talked about their wives. Liverpool commented again on how much he and his lady had enjoyed their dinner.

“I’ve known Gillian since she was as high as my knee,” Liverpool said. “I had no doubt she wouldn’t turn out to be the poised and exacting young woman she is. She has a good head on her shoulders, Wright. You were wise to marry her.”

“I consider myself most fortunate,” Brian murmured.

“The two of you are a formidable team,” Liverpool continued. “I daresay that you are both perfectly able to travel in any social circle you might wish.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Oh, it is much more than a compliment,” Liverpool said, waving away his words with his knife before cutting into his beefsteak. “It’s an art. You see, I’ve found that in government service, we must consider both husband and wife. If the wife is not happy, then her husband will grow disenchanted with the long hours and the frustrations that go into leading this great country of ours.”

“That is true,” Brian agreed, making a pretense of cutting his beef and eating. He was waiting.

Liverpool turned his attention to his meal, dropping his gaze from Brian’s. “I know you wished for a position on my staff.”

Brian didn’t like the past tense of the word “wished.”

“It is my sincerest desire.”

The cabinet minister took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully, and at that moment, Brian knew he did not have good news to deliver. He lowered his head, staring at the weave in the cloth of his napkin.

“Was it my father? Has he talked to you?”

“Perhaps you should read this first before we speak,” Liverpool said, and placed an opened letter beside Brian’s plate. Brian immediately recognized the handwriting as Wellington’s.

He picked up the letter and unfolded it.

His general had written a letter of reference on Brian’s behalf, noting that he would serve a good purpose in any position England had for him.

I cannot say too much in favor of him. He was one of the best officers under my command. I agree with you (and many others) that Wright should be used to further advance the concerns of our country. Holland would be a very good posting.

Brian refolded the letter. “I have no desire for a diplomat’s life,” he said carefully. “I do not wish to appear ungrateful, but my heart, my mind is with the men I served and who served under me.”

“I understand,” Liverpool said.

“I beg to differ, my lord, because if you did, you would not suggest the diplomatic corps to me. My request is not motivated in an interest for a political career. I’m thinking of the men I left behind in Portugal, men who are battling with their lives for this country. They need my voice on your staff. An army runs on money. The government continuously makes promises that it has, so far, failed to deliver. I wish to right that wrong.”

“And you believe I have a desire to send men with empty stomachs and no boots into war?” Liverpool demanded, leaning forward, his voice no louder than a whisper.

“I believe you are the one man who understands the difficulty,” Brian answered. “And for that reason, I wish to side with you.”

“There are no sides here, Wright. We all work toward the same purpose. Government is nothing but compromises, one after the other. But there are decisions that need to be made on a higher plane.

One of those decisions is how to take talented men with intelligence and loyalty and use them for the good of the empire.”

“I have no desire to sit out this fight against Napoleon as a diplomat,” Brian said, letting his own temper show. “I do not wine and dine with my enemies.”

“Sit out?” Liverpool motioned for the porter to refill his wineglass. He sat back in his chair, tossing his napkin on the table. “Don’t ever demean the diplomatic corps with such a statement.”

“I mean no disrespect but I am a soldier, a fighter. I do not have the politician’s patience.”

A ghost of a smile curved the cabinet minister’s lips. “That was a skillful recovery. Patience. Is that what we politicians have? I doubt that—or at least I grow as impatient as yourself. And I’m certain you know how Wellington feels about waiting. However, politics is the means we use for accomplishing our goals. A skilled politician is an asset, Wright. That is why we believe you should be sent to Holland.”

Brian could have groaned aloud. “I have no desire to—”

“Hear me out.” Liverpool leaned forward. “Holland could be pivotal for us. You know Napoleon’s brother Louis is on the Dutch throne.”

Brian nodded.

“He has actually been a good ruler to the Dutch,” Liverpool said. “He has ignored Napoleon’s orders to prosecute those caught trading goods with England and continually considers the welfare of the Dutch people. For that reason, we assume his days in Holland are numbered. Napoleon is not a man to be ignored for long, even by a brother. But when that happens, we must take advantage of Dutch discontent. Wright, let me worry about prying money for our army out of Parliament. What I want from you, what England needs from you is help loosening Napoleon’s hold on the Continent country-by-country. First Holland and then Belgium. Your father’s wishes aside, you truly are the best man for this task.” He drew a sip of his wine. “I knew your brothers. You are the one most like your father of the three of you.”

“I’m not certain that is a compliment, my lord,” Brian said.

“Your father is meddlesome, Wright. And he does as he pleases—”

“He takes pride in trampling on people.”

“He’s also a very effective politician. Nor is he alone in trampling on others. We all do in one way or the other. Some people deserve a good trample. And yes, he does want you to have this ambassadorship. However, don’t believe me so simple as to make such a decision on his say so. You possess the tact, tenacity, and intelligence needed for this role.”

It was flattering to have a man like Liverpool praise him. Brian still held Wellington’s letter. Had he been too hasty in rejecting an ambassadorship? Diplomacy had not interested him before but if it helped the battle against Napoleon, should he not at least consider the idea?

And then he thought of Gillian.

He’d be leaving her.

He thought of last night. There had been a sadness in her touch. They always seemed to hurt each other. Perhaps it would be best for both of them if he did leave.

“I see you are thinking of your family,” Liverpool observed. “It is up to you if you wish to take them with you. Some diplomats find their wives assets to their duties. Others, for various reasons, leave their families here in England.”

Brian nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. The thought of leaving Gillian, even knowing she didn’t love him the way he loved her, filled him with sadness.

“So, what shall I tell Castlereagh, Canning, and the others?” Liverpool asked. “Will you take the post?”

“May I have some time to think? At least, perhaps, overnight?”

“Of course. In fact, why don’t you and Lady Wright join my wife and I in our box at Covent Garden this evening? It’s Macbeth and some musical entertainment called The Quaker. I never found Quakers entertaining but my wife wishes to see the performance. This will give us another opportunity to know each other better. You come highly recommended and Wellington thinks the best of you. Of course, for me, a man wise enough to marry Miss Gillian Hutchins is one I can admire.”

Brian laughed silently at himself at the trick fate had played on him. “I am indeed blessed,” he admitted. “However the wisdom was my father’s.”

“He may have steered you to the match, but it is obvious your wife dotes on you.”

“As I do her,” Brian responded perfunctorily.

Fortunately, Liverpool was too preoccupied with other matters to listen closely. Their meal at an end, they left together on cordial terms. Liverpool had a driver waiting for him at the door.

Brian paused on Boodles’s front step. So, it appeared his only option would be playing the diplomat in Holland. It was a good offer and Liverpool had placed it in terms that made Brian willing to consider it.

In addition, it would be good for his political career, the same one he’d professed not to have. Still, a man should keep an eye on his future.

He pulled on his leather gloves and set off in the direction of home. It was a good stretch of the legs but he enjoyed the exercise. However, he had not gone far when he noticed Jess’s cabriolet coming toward him. It had been sitting at a corner, apparently waiting for him. He slowed his step.

She lowered her window as her vehicle drew alongside him. “Would you please join me?”

“No,” Brian said, barely able to look at her.

“My lord, I have information of importance I believe you would want to hear.”

“Jess, matters are done between us. You have nothing I want.”

She pulled a pretty pout, taking offense to his rejection. “I only wish to help.”

“Accosting me on a public street is no help. What if my father were to see you? After all, this carriage he gave you draws more attention than a beacon lamp. I warn you, he can be a jealous man.”

“I already know that.” She leaned out the window. Her hat was a fashionable thing of feathers and pearls. It was attractive. She was attractive…but she no longer attracted him.

“Please, my lord, hear me out. You owe me that much.”

Brian came to a halt. “I owe you?” He shook his head with a bitter laugh. “I owe you nothing, Jess.

And I wish for nothing from you in return.”

“You don’t understand. You have never been alone or afraid,” she accused.

“Neither have you. You have always had me, or my father.” He didn’t hide his disdain.

Jess placed pink leather gloves on the edge of the window. “I would wish that you return to me,” she confessed. “Except I know you would reject such an offer.”

“And you would be right.”

She frowned. “It’s because of the baby, isn’t it?”

“The baby is one part. Jess, you weren’t loyal. You didn’t wait for me.”

“I couldn’t,” she said, her expression hurt. “You were gone for years.”

“I was fulfilling my duties.”

She waved his words as if to erase them from the air. “And how would I know how long that would take? I grew lonely. Besides, a woman who lives by her looks has to earn her keep where she can.”

“Not an honorable woman.”

“Or one such as your wife?”

Brian’s temper soared at the sly peevishness in her tone. He took a step into the road to confront her.

“Don’t mention my wife. You would never understand a woman of her qualities.”

“I know she isn’t as beautiful as I am,” Jess answered.

“I disagree. Gillian’s beauty surpasses yours in the same way the sun outshines the moon.”

“And of course, she is more honorable than I?” she said, mimicking his earlier words.

“Definitely.”

A smile spread across Jess’s face. “Then why was she making an assignation with a gentleman not more than an hour ago in front of the Exeter Change?”

“You lie,” Brian said, almost laughing at the accusation.

“A tall man, with dark, good looks. One of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen. He appeared Latin.” She brought her brows together. “Do you know him? The beadle told me he had an accent.”

“Why are you watching my wife?” Brian charged, shoving aside the rampant jealousy the description of Ramigio set off through his veins.

“Because I want you back,” Jess said and for a bleak moment, he could see beneath the paint and powder, the velvet and the silks to the young girl he’d once protected. “We meant a great deal to each other. You loved me.”

“I did. But you can’t have me, Jess. My father might betray me, but I won’t betray him.” He took a step back to the curb. “And I’ll never betray my wife.”

The light in Jess’s green eyes hardened. “You did once.”

“I was a fool.”

“Or perhaps you aren’t a good judge of women. You trust too easily. Oh, wait,” she said, raising a hand to cover her lips in mock alarm over her words. “I forgot. Your wife is an honorable woman.”

She pulled back into the coach. “Beware, my lord. All that trust means people will laugh harder when you are cuckolded. Drive, Jeremy.”

Her coachman didn’t hesitate but immediately set the vehicle in motion.

Brian was so angry he could have grabbed one of the wheels and turned the fussy cabriolet over.

Instead, he marched down the street, disgusted with himself for having taken a moment to have listened to anything Jess said. Her words were like a poison, spreading through every fiber of his being.

He stopped, ignoring the pedestrians brushing past him in their haste to reach their destinations.

If Gillian was going to leave him, well, so be it. He couldn’t live with this jealousy or he’d become a crazed man. Instead, he needed to focus on Anthony, his son, and that is all he wanted…or so he told himself.