Page 6

The next day

M iles was relieved to receive the note from Sir Samuel Shepherd. The Attorney General was in Town and available for an appointment. They would be free to head for Shackerley Place once the meeting had been dispensed with.

He had risen early, taken care of some correspondence, and visited Jackson’s for a quick bout with a friend. He enjoyed boxing and went to the pugilist’s whenever he was in London. It was a constructive way to work out his frustrations.

Miles had taken up the sport after his sister and her husband died in a carriage accident.

It had happened while he and his father were trying to restore the family estate after a devastating investment loss.

The combined debacles had broken his father, and his health failed within a year of losing his daughter.

Raging at the hand fate had dealt him, Miles had gone on a binge in London.

Two weeks of liquor, women, and gambling.

Fortunately, he’d sobered up before he’d lost everything his father had hoped to regain.

A friend of the family had taken Miles under his wing, seeing the destructive pattern.

He’d dragged a hungover Miles to Jackson’s and put him in the ring.

The first punch had sent Miles reeling, surprised a man so much older had the strength to plant a facer like that.

He’d cast his accounts, then turned on his father’s friend, angry and embarrassed.

But as he fought back, the tension had eased in his shoulders, the heaviness in his chest lifting.

The sport had been cathartic for him, saved him in a way.

That had been five years ago, the two had continued their correspondence, and Miles had taken up boxing.

Above, he heard the sound of music. Taking the stairs two at a time, he found Shackerley and Lady Graywood at the pianoforte, his first cousin playing with gusto and his second cousin humming along.

He had a nice voice, a little high for Miles’s taste, but clear and steady. When he entered, they both stopped.

“Good news! We have an appointment with the Attorney General later this afternoon. He’s only in Town for two more days, so our timing is excellent.

Once he approves the claim, he will refer it to the Crown.

Unless there are multiple claimants, which I can’t imagine since I’m the next in line, then you officially receive the dukedom.

” He paused, realizing he’d been speaking so fast he’d barely taken a breath. Shackerley was rubbing off on him.

But the young duke went pale. “I don’t know what to say to him. What if he doesn’t believe us? What if we don’t have enough documentation?”

“Easy, there. Sir Samuel is a good man, besides knowing your grandfather and your father. He’ll only need to look at you and see the resemblance. There will be no other inquiry.” Miles squeezed Shackerley’s shoulder. “I’ll be there with you.”

The duke nodded, but worry still darkened his blue eyes. “What about my mother?”

“Oh, there’s no need for her to go. In fact, I’m not sure Sir Samuel would appreciate a woman accompanying us.

But”—he turned to Lady Graywood with an apologetic look—“if you would entrust me with your marriage documents and bible, we will see this matter done and forge ahead. We might leave for your new home within a few days.”

* * *

Gwen gripped her knees, her fingernails scraping her trousers.

Beside her, Wickton gave her an encouraging smile.

Sir Samuel Shepherd was an intimidating figure.

His hair—was it a wig?—was grayish white, and his pale-blue eyes peered down an aquiline nose as he considered Gwen. Would she pass muster?

“It’s as if I’m sitting before old Shackerley in our youth.

Those family lines haven’t diluted much in the last two generations, have they?

” said the Attorney General with a warm smile.

“I don’t see anything to hinder your claim, Your Grace .

I will say you have quite a reputation to live up to.

Your grandfather was a highly respected man. ”

“And my father?” Gwen asked, hoping she didn’t sound impertinent.

“Eh?” he asked, cupping his hand around his ear. “Cotter?”

“My father?” she repeated, thankful Wickton had warned her about the lawyer’s deafness.

“I’m sorry to say I didn’t know him well. It was a shame they had a falling out.” Sir Samuel shook his head. “I’m sure Shackerley regretted it at the end.”

Wickton cleared his throat, an odd expression on his handsome face. “I wanted to accompany them to Shackerley Place, get His Grace acquainted with the estate and tenants. He hasn’t had the upbringing of a typical duke, so his knowledge is limited.”

“Radical duke?” asked Sir Samuel, confusion drawing his brows together.

“Typical. Typical duke,” repeated Wickton.

“Of course, of course. I can’t think of a better mentor than Wickton, here,” the Attorney General said to Gwen. “He was quite the wizard bringing back his family’s estate.”

Gwen had wondered about Miles’s life and his past. It sounded as if he had also gone through some troubled times.

Maybe he would eventually share his story with her.

She studied his handsome profile, noted the slight hook in his nose, the strong jaw, and her heart thumped.

She had only managed this interview because of him. She seemed to draw on his strength.

Both men rose, and Gwen followed suit, holding out her hand to shake Sir Samuel’s. “Thank you for your assistance,” she said. “I’m not sure what I’d do without my cousin’s help.”

“I hope we meet again under happier circumstances. I might stop at your estate on my way to Scotland this summer.”

“A long visit?” asked Wickton.

“No, no. Just visiting some friends. A beautiful place, Scotland. You should visit Edinburgh sometime,” he said to Gwen, walking them to his office door. “It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen.”

* * *

A week later

The coach hit a rut, bouncing its occupants off the cushions. Gwen hit her head on the window shutter, her hand flailing for the leather hand grab near her head. “For the love of Hercules, I swear my brain is scrambled.”

Wickton laughed and gave her an elbow in the side. “Your son needs a tougher skin,” he said to her mother, sitting across from them.

“Or a thicker skull,” answered Mama with a smirk.

Gwen stuck her tongue out in response.

“What shall we do to pass the time?” asked Wickton. “We’ve played I Spy enough for a lifetime.”

“Can you sing?” Gwen asked the viscount.

“I’m told I can hold a tune.”

“We’ll sing ‘Oranges and Lemons’,” she said. “I haven’t heard that one since I was a child. Let’s see if we remember the words.”

“Oh, I’ll begin,” said Mama, “for I’m certain I remember the opening lines.” She began in a clear voice:

Gay go up and gay go down,

To ring the bells of London town.

Oranges and lemons,

Say the bells of St. Clements.

Bull’s eyes and targets,

Say the bells of St. Margret’s.

“That’s all I can remember off the top of my head,” her mother concluded.

Gwen looked at her cousin, who shook his head, so she took up the next verses:

Brickbats and tiles,

Say the bells of St. Giles’.

Halfpence and farthings,

Say the bells of St. Martin’s.

Pancakes and fritters,

Say the bells of St. Peter’s.

She paused. “I know pancakes and fritters are for the baker. Halfpence and farthings are for the banker. What about brickbats and tiles?”

“Builders,” supplied the viscount.

“Ah,” said Gwen before she continued:

Two sticks and an apple,

Say the bells of...

She tapped her bottom lip with her forefinger, and Miles supplied, “Whitechapel.”

“Very good,” she commended and sang on:

Pokers and tongs,

Say the bells of St. John’s.

Kettles and pans,

Say the bells of St. Ann’s.

Old Father Baldpate,

Say the slow bells of Aldgate.

“On a return trip to London, I must give you both a tour of these churches and steeples,” said Wickton. “We have some beautiful chapels.”

“We’ll look forward to that,” Gwen said. Handsome and thoughtful.

“I remember more,” exclaimed Mama.

You owe me ten shillings,

Say the bells of St. Helen’s.

When will you pay me?

Say the bells of Old Bailey.

When I grow rich,

Say the bells of Shoreditch.

Gwen sang along:

Pray when will that be?

Say the bells of Stepney.

I do not know,

Says the great bell of Bow.

Her cousin added his deep timbre:

Here comes a candle to light you to bed,

Here comes a chopper to chop off your head.

Chop chop chop chop

The last man’s dead!

“Mama, do you remember the time Gr… Gwendolyn threw a tantrum when she was caught in the trap at the end of the song?”

Her mother’s eyes went wide, then she caught herself, and nodded. “Oh, my. She tried to throw herself against the arms of the poor girls holding her hostage. She was successful. She broke through the gate and fell right into a mud puddle. Oh, the outrage!”

Gwen laughed at the memory, forgetting Wickton had lost a sister and her family. She put a hand on his arm. “Do you miss her?”

He instinctively understood who she meant, his face slack as his smile disappeared. “Every day. But I’m no longer alone. I have family once again.” Wickton put his arm around Gwen’s shoulder and squeezed, the smile returning. “You have no idea how much it means to me to have both of you here.”

“We are happy to have found another relative too.” Gwen resisted the urge to lay her cheek against the hand resting on her shoulder. When he removed it, her skin felt chilled, and she longed to have his warmth again.

“Speaking of Lady Gwendolyn, why didn’t she come with you?” asked Wickton.

“She hates the sea,” said her mother in a rush.

“Is she younger or older?”

“Younger,” Gwen said, “by only a few minutes, she would be sure to include.”

“Twins?” Wickton looked shocked. “I’ve never known a set of twins. Identical?”

Gwen nodded. “There is some difference, being the opposite sex, but yes. If you know me, you will recognize her.”

“Fascinating!”

“Gwendolyn will come later once we’re settled. She didn’t want to make the trip twice if we returned to Boston. Women,” she added, rolling her eyes.

“Who will accompany her? She cannot travel alone.” Concern shone in his golden-brown eyes. “I could make the trip if need be.”

“Oh non !” Mama said a little too quickly. “I mean, she’s tutoring the children of a prominent Boston family. Teaching them French. They were planning a trip abroad and said they would stop in England first.”

“Then on to France to practice their French?” he asked.

“Precisely!” Gwen mentally smacked herself for not thinking of that earlier.

Graham had been gone so long, she thought of him in a more distant sense. Someone who would return to them someday. Mr. Barnaby knew a man who had taken four years to make his fortune. Graham’s year-long absence wasn’t so unusual.

Now, thinking of Miles losing his sister, her heart ached for her brother.

Was he safe? She was still certain he was alive.

They were kindred souls, and she would feel it if…

Oh, to see him now, to hear his laughter, to pretend ire at his teasing.

Gwen blinked back the hot tears, turning to look out the carriage.

Once Graham arrived, their life would be perfect.

They would be a family again, settle down in the English countryside, and never worry about money or their next meal.

“I’m not usually a sentimental man,” the viscount was saying when her emotions were under control, “but I must say finding my cousins has been the best thing to happen to me in years.” His cheeks flushed as he made his declaration.

“We feel the same,” said Gwen, joy rebounding until guilt niggled at her ear. How would he feel when he learned he’d been duped? Their growing friendship was threatening to ruin her plan. He would never believe Graham was Graham after so much time together. Eventually, she would have to confess.

“I can’t believe how fond I’ve grown of you both in such a short time. It must be the familial bond.” He gave a sheepish grin and shrugged.

Mama smiled and reached over to pat Wickton’s cheek. “We can never have enough family, Miles. We’re so happy to have found you. I didn’t think Shackerley had a decent relative except for my husband.”

“He had good points,” said the viscount, “but he was so stubborn. Once he’d made up his mind or issued an ultimatum, he couldn’t retreat.

As you’ll see, he was liked by his tenants and did well by them.

He wasn’t what I would call a generous man, but he was fair and never shirked his responsibilities. ”

They were the first kind words she’d ever heard about her grandfather. There had been another side to him. Perhaps if her father had offered the olive branch, the old duke would have taken it. Now they would never know.