An Inadvisable Wager (The Curse of the Weatherby Ball Book 2) Eliza Lloyd (reading books for 7 year olds .TXT) 📖

him and the coach lurched away. Carlow’s coach waited and he assisted Nora inside with an easy grip. “Where does your brother live?”

“Whitmarsh.”

“In Dorset?”

“Yes, near Dorchester. My guardians are Lord and Lady—”

“Fortenay. They’ve been retired from London for several years, haven’t they? My parents knew them. Let me clarify, my mother knew them. My father probably knew them.”

“They aren’t dead.”

“What did they think of your scheme?”

“To get my birthright returned? To get my home back? I didn’t see it as a scheme, so they didn’t either,” she said. “While they might have advised me in certain matters, they were in agreement about the pure animus involved in the theft of Wargrove’s properties.”

“From my point of view, it has the scent of schemey-ness. Ah, here we are,” he said as the carriage came to a halt.

She laughed. “Already? You live across the park from the Weatherby Mansion and you took a carriage?”

“Keeping up appearances.” Carlow opened the door and jumped out. “Come, my dear, let’s get you settled. You can enjoy a bath. Afterward, I will give you a tour of the house and then we can have tea and some sweets. Or lunch if you prefer.” He led her up the marble stairs and the majordomo opened the door.

Nora glanced at the large open foyer with a wide staircase leading upward. The floor was a mosaic pattern and shined to a high gloss. Open double doors were on each side of the vestibule leading to large sitting areas. Red was the predominant color in each room with several matching pieces. Like eidetic images.

“Carlow, I am tired, and my stomach can’t take another bite right now.”

She strolled to one of the rooms and glanced up at the sheer grandeur.

“Ignore the red. One’s the white room, the other the black room. Mintz, if you haven’t guessed, this is Lady Carlow. Mintz is in charge of the household servants and my general aide. Would you show my wife to her room? Is the bath drawn and her bed made up?” Graham asked.

“Yes, my lord. We’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

“Good. I’ll have tea at my desk.” He stared at her again. “Nora, my home is a peaceful place. I want it to stay that way.”

“So was Henbury Hall when I was a child.”

He hesitated; his brow wrinkled in consternation. “I have a few things I need to discuss with you about Henbury, once you’ve rested.”

“You are not backing out of our agreement?” she asked.

“No. Nothing like that.”

* * * * *

The time to talk with Nora had come and gone. Gabriel would tell her before they left for Henbury Hall. It would be a hard discussion. He would have to admit his father’s weaknesses and Nora would have to hear the hard truth. Unfortunately, Gabriel would look like an accomplice in whatever scheme Nora believed had happened.

Mintz reported that Nora’s lady’s maid informed him that Lady Carlow had indeed bathed then promptly fell asleep, where she currently rested in sweet repose. In his room. On his bed.

He shouldn’t be thinking so much about that small detail, but he wanted her to be comfortable and content. He also wanted to be comfortable and very content, but that would have to wait until he’d earned a little of Nora’s trust.

How did he prove he was trustworthy? How did he prove his father had acquired the property legally, though he had been negligent in its care? And why did Gabriel care? He’d just been bamboozled, and he was happy as a lark about it. Lord, he was as mad as his father.

When she didn’t come down for dinner, Gabriel ordered a tray to be sent up, along with an unopened bottle of sherry. Later, he stood at the top of the stairs, staring longingly toward his bedroom door. He would dream about her tonight—a woman he’d known for less than twenty-four hours.

Gabriel found rest in one of the guest bedrooms, instructing his valet to wake him at six with breakfast, coffee and a hot bath.

Secrets had been part of the family legacy for as long as Gabriel could remember, but he wasn’t going to keep secrets about Henbury Hall from her. She deserved to know what happened. At least the truth as he knew it.

He doubted the entirety of the claims his father made, just as he doubted that George Blasington had been completely truthful with his young children. How could he? Perhaps Lord and Lady Fortenay knew the whole truth and had shielded Nora and her brother from the painful reality.

As he waited for sleep, the side of his face started to throb. He rubbed the length of the scar, then opened his mouth a few times, trying to relieve the tightness. He shouldn’t be surprised that the old injury would make its presence known on a night like this. Which followed a day like today and a night like last night at the Weatherby Ball. He suspected it had more to do with the reminders of the Henbury Hall fiasco.

What had his father been thinking?

Gabriel had grown tired of watching his father descend into an obsessive sort of madness. He’d tried to stop him. What he got in return was his father wildly swinging a garden trowel that sliced across Gabriel’s face. Blood had gushed everywhere, and his father? He’d just dropped the trowel and walked away. They hadn’t said a word to each other for over a year. Father kept up his search for the unholy grail. The nonexistent grail.

Maybe the pain had developed because he was the one who would have to share the uncomfortable news with Nora. What a strange lot in life. Find a beautiful intelligent woman and she was the one woman in all England who would be most hurt, most angry, most intractable.

No, that