A Cantata of Love (The Code Breakers 4) Read online

The young country woman he had hired to be Gabby’s maid stood behind them with her mouth gaping at the size and grandeur of the towering, turreted Jacobean grey mansion.

  Gabby squeezed his arm while they climbed the steps. “Remember, you must wait and talk to your sister before you say or do anything against your new brother-in-law. He is now part of the family, and you wouldn’t want your sister to be torn between her love for you and her new husband.”

  Gentle Gabby was a bossy little package. A lot like Hen, she was soothing his hurt feelings, trying to get him to behave in a gentlemanly manner. She’d be outraged to know he was enjoying her next to him, her soft curves pressed against him.

  “You really need to wait until you talk to your sister.”

  Michael quickened his pace up the last few steps. “But why would Hen marry in haste? He must have taken undue advantage. I may have to challenge him to a duel to defend our family honor.” Nothing else made sense of whatever had prompted Hen to marry in such a rush. The old geezer must have seduced or compromised Henrietta.

  Exasperated, Gabby pulled on his arm, stopping him from knocking on the door. “Tell me how killing your brother-in-law would help your sister?”

  “To relieve her of a man…” He stopped, thinking better of what he might say to this innocent. Men with no morals could seduce a young woman and force her into marriage. It made no sense that sensible Henrietta would fall for such a ruse. “Rathbourne must have been in need of Henrietta’s money. It is the only reasonable explanation.”

  Gabby shook her head, her delightful curls restrained under her bonnet, bouncing with the rapid movement while she said something under her breath in French.

  They both startled when the door opened, revealing Brompton. “Master Michael, home at last! Lady Henrietta will be relieved, as will Master Edward, Uncle Charles, and my wife. They have all been worried about you.”

  Deep happiness swept through Michael with the family retainer’s handshake. “Brompton, you’re a sight for sore eyes. I’m pleased to see you in good health. And how is Mrs. Brompton?”

  “My wife is as nimble and interfering as ever.” Brompton spoke in a loud voice, enabling Bromie, moving briskly down the hallway, to hear his teasing comment.

  The sight of the cheerful woman, in her familiar brown dress, her hair severely pulled back at her neck, who had acted as a mother to all of the Harcourts was a reassuring note in the disconcerting homecoming.

  “Master Michael?” Bromie’s voice was incredulous and welcoming.

  All was going to be right.

  “My boy, how wonderful it is to see you.” The stout woman swept him into her arms, not standing on formality like her husband. She smelled of cinnamon and lemon and everything constant from his childhood.

  Bromie released him and nodded at Gabby.

  “Bromie and Brompton, this is Mademoiselle Gabrielle De Valmont, who will be staying with my sister until she can move to her brother’s home.”

  Brompton bowed his head. “My lady, welcome to Rathbourne House.”

  Bromie raised her eyebrows at Michael before she smiled at Gabby. “Welcome, mademoiselle. I’d better rouse Lady Henrietta from her nap. She’ll be upset that she wasn’t here to greet you.”

  “Hen is sleeping in the middle of the day?”

  Bromie patted him on the cheek, her calloused hand rough against his skin. “Your sister is right as rain. You’ll see soon enough. But you look like you’ve lost weight. You’ve missed Cook’s good old English cooking?”

  Michael squeezed Bromie’s hand. “I have missed everyone and everything.”

  Bromie grabbed at her heart. “Lady Hen is going to be pleased to see you, and Edward is going to be over the top by your arrival. I’ve got to tell Cook to get started on your homecoming dinner. This is a very special day.”

  “I will announce your arrival to Lord Rathbourne, Master Michael,” Brompton said. “Mademoiselle, may I show you to the drawing room where you can wait to meet Lady Henrietta?”

  “Dang it, Brompton. I don’t want to be treated as a guest. Where are Uncle Charles and Edward?”

  “Uncle Charles is also napping. And Edward is with his tutor.”

  Michael tried to hide his disappointment. He’d expected more of a ruckus when he got home.

  Gabby took his arm and then gave him an encouraging nod.

  Her gentle touch of support, when she was in an unfamiliar home in an unfamiliar country with no anticipation of seeing family, chastened him. He looked down into her smiling face. “I’ll join you in the drawing room once I’ve seen my brother-in-law. Henrietta is going to love meeting you. And after you’ve rested tonight, I’ll take you tomorrow to your brother.”

  “It will be good not to travel any further today.” Gabby sighed.

  “Right this way, mademoiselle.” Brompton gestured toward the grandiose spiral stairs.

  Gabby, her posture erect, ascended the stairs, showing no hint of the grueling journey. She had the same plucky attitude as Henrietta.

  He never imagined his homecoming like this—disorienting and anticlimactic. He waited in the foyer, a stranger in a strange house.

  After a few minutes, Brompton came down the stairs.

  “Right this way, Master Michael.” Brompton shook his balding head, and his punctilious voice filled with emotion. “I’m sorry to miss Lady Hen’s face when she sees you.”

  Michael increased his stride, refusing to walk behind the old retainer, who was more family than servant.

  “How long has Hen been married?”

  “Two months.”

  “But I’ve only been gone four months. Why couldn’t she wait until I got home? And why would she marry an old geezer?”

  Brompton gave a most quizzical look before he opened the door and ushered Michael into a room adorned with masculine decor. “I’m sorry for the interruption, but Lord Kendal has just arrived.”

  Lord Rathbourne, seated behind a massive, mahogany desk, rose. “Your sister will be so relieved.”

  Another man, a blond gentleman, with his back toward the door whipped around to look at Michael.

  His brother-in-law wasn’t at all what Michael had expected. He was a large, muscular fellow with an arrogant, patrician face—a fit man in his prime, not old.

  Michael muttered under his breath. “Not an old geezer at all.”

  The other gentleman chuckled. “Well, I should say not, since Cord and I are of the same age.”

  Hell, had he said that aloud? “I was expecting a much older, I mean…” He should just shut his mouth. “More mature, like Sir Ramsey.”

  The blond gentleman looked familiar. His sandy hair hung over one eye, and his cravat was a bit mussed, like he had been tugging on it. Like a man who was more comfortable in a tavern brawl than a drawing room. The gentleman bowed his head slightly toward Michael. “Ashworth, at your service.”

  Michael nodded to Ashworth. He and his chums at Oxford held Ashworth and his friends in awe for being top of the treetop rakes. Now all the pieces clicked together. His brother-in-law hadn’t acquired his title until his brother died. Known as “Beaumont,” he had an unsavory reputation. Although Michael couldn’t recall the details, Rathbourne was not deemed as good society. Then Beaumont had disappeared into France.

  Bloody anger rushed through Michael’s body, readying him for battle. He was going to massacre the bastard and move Henrietta back to Kendal House.

  Rathbourne inspected Michael’s face. Michael hoped that Rathbourne was savvy enough to realize the danger he was in. “If you’ll excuse us, Ash. I’d like a few words with my brother-in-law before Henrietta gets up from her nap.” The words were spoken quietly but held a challenge.

  “Why is Hen napping?” Michael demanded.

  Ashworth shared a conspiratorial raised eyebrow with Rathbourne before exiting the room. He closed the door quietly behind him.

  Rathbourne walked toward the side table and poured himself a brandy. Michael watched his broad shoulde
rs tighten beneath his black coat. He kept his back to Michael. “Brandy?”

  “I want to know what you’ve done to my sister. She would never marry without consulting me. I’ve been racking my brain to try to remember what I’ve heard about you besides your promotion to director. Your dissipated reputation as Beaumont precedes you. My sister would never marry a man like you.”

  Michael couldn’t contain his outrage. His sister was smart and sensible and would never act rashly. How had everything spun out of control while he was in France? Nothing was right. And despite Gabby’s warning flashing through his heated brain, he wanted to skewer someone.

  Rathbourne swiftly turned, his dark eyes narrowed into slits, his glass held tightly in his hand. “You have the nerve to take me to task. Do you know what your little escapade in France did to your sister? If I hadn’t promised Henrietta, I’d thrash you.”

  Michael stepped closer, clenching his fists hard. Now this felt better. He’d like to work out his agitation in the usual gentleman’s method by pounding this pompous ass into the ground. “You are welcome to try. Hen never needs to find out.”

  The other man’s eyebrows slashed together, a tick evident in his clenched jaw. Rathbourne wasn’t as controlled as he pretended, which gave Michael great satisfaction. He might be recovering from his injury, but he was still capable of delivering some damaging blows.

  Both men stared at each other, the hostile tension mounting.

  The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room until the shattering thunder of the door banging open.

  “Michael! Thank God. You’re home.” Henrietta, her eyes tearing, rushed to him. She flung herself into his arms and squeezed him tightly.

  He lifted his sister and spun her around.

  She giggled like a young girl.

  “Put her down,” Rathbourne demanded in an imperious tone.

  Ignoring Rathbourne, Michael spun her around again as he had done when they were children.

  Rathbourne stepped closer. “Put her down before you make her sick.”

  Henrietta laughed again. “I feel fine.”

  Michael placed her feet back on the ground and took a step back to scrutinize her more closely. “You do look a bit pale. Why were you napping?”

  Hen smiled shyly, her green eyes, identical to his own, sparkling. “I’m not ill. Where have you been? Why didn’t you come straight home?”

  “After I was shot, I developed a fever and went into a coma.”

  Her hands fluttered at her chest, and she stepped backward as if she might fall.

  “You insufferable ass.” Rathbourne’s face contorted in anger. He pulled Hen next to him. “Why would you shock your sister that way?”

  “My sister doesn’t shock easily. Tell him, Hen.”

  Hen patted her husband’s chest. “Cord thinks I’m some sort of fragile flower.”

  Michael snorted.

  Hen did a small curtsy. “Thank you. It is so good to have you home. Isn’t it, Cord?”

  Rathbourne’s tense face relaxed when he looked down at Hen. “Of course. Now you don’t have to spend any more time worrying about him. I’ll take care of him.”

  Michael bristled at Rathbourne’s challenging tone. “Why did you marry hastily?”

  Hen stepped away from her husband and linked arms with Michael. “I know it comes as a big shock. Let’s go to the drawing room before Uncle Charles and Edward join us. I’ll explain everything.”

  Rathbourne’s jaw twitched again, and by the way his eyes constricted, he was anticipating retribution. Michael smiled faintly at his brother-in-law’s annoyance.

  “Yes, I want to hear why you married without my knowledge or permission.”

  “You must be joking.” Rathbourne disengaged Hen’s arm and placed it on top of his.

  Michael planted his feet apart and drew his shoulders back, tight, to confront Rathbourne. “I am responsible for my sister’s safety and future. It was my prerogative as head of my house to make the decision.” Although he knew he never would have prohibited Hen from marrying the man of her choice. “How do I know you didn’t marry her for her dowry? A man with your reputation…”

  Hen gasped. “Michael!”

  “If you weren’t Henrietta’s brother, I’d beat you to a pulp. In fact, I’m still considering it.”

  “Don’t hold yourself back.” Michael stepped closer.

  “You both can stop this ridiculous male blustering right now.” Hen’s eyes darted back and forth. “My decision to marry Cord wasn’t dependent on either of you. It was mine alone.”

  Michael immediately felt contrite. Hen wasn’t quick to anger.

  Rathbourne wrapped his arms around Hen and kissed her on the top of the head. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. You’re absolutely correct.” Hen circled her arms around his waist, pressing close to her new husband.

  Michael heard her say under her breath, “You promised not to bully my brother.”

  “You don’t need to protect me, Hen. I can stand up for myself.”

  Rathbourne raised his eyebrow in a supercilious manner that Michael detested immediately. “Like you did in France?”

  “Oh, my God. I’ve forgotten Gabby. She’s waiting in the drawing room,” Michael said.

  “Gabby? Who is Gabby?” Hen asked.

  “The lady who nursed me when my fever almost got the best of me.”

  “A lady who allows you to call her Gabby?” Hen smiled.

  “You brought an unknown French woman to our home?” Rathbourne demanded.

  Michael stiffened at the disdainful tone. “I took her to Kendal House, but had to bring her here since my entire family had been moved here without my knowledge.”

  Hen took his arm again. “Oh, Michael. I’m sorry I couldn’t notify you.”

  “You don’t need to apologize to him,” her husband said. “It was your brother who decided to steal a code book and get shot.”

  “I didn’t decide to get shot. And my plan was sound—decipher the code and return the book in the morning.”

  “This is old history. No need to discuss, Cord.” Hen’s voice was forceful; she was not in the least intimated by Rathbourne’s menacing manner.

  “I need to go to Gabby. Brompton put her in the drawing room, and she is going to wonder where I am.”

  “You’re worried about her?” His sister looked up at him.

  “We’ve been travelling all day. I planned that she would stay with you at Kendal House, but you weren’t at home. Neither was Uncle Charles or Edward or the Bromptons.” He tried to not sound petulant but could hear it in his own voice. He was dog-tired and was having difficulty with all the unexpected changes. “Where was I to go? A lady in a single man’s residence? I needed to protect her reputation.”

  Rathbourne rolled his eyes upward. “How circumspect of you.”

  “But, Michael, why didn’t you return the lady to her family?” Hen’s eyes were bright with curiosity.

  “She fled France to be reunited with her brother, but she doesn’t know where he resides. I thought it best that she rest after our grueling trip. We’ve been dodging both Napoleon and Fouché’s men. All of this on top of Gabby’s long hours caring for me when I was ill. I need to get back to her.”

  “What is this lady’s name?” Rathbourne demanded. “And where did you meet this woman?”

  “We can discuss this later. I need to check on Gabby.”

  Rathbourne grabbed Michael’s arm. “You brought an unknown French woman into my home, possibly endangering your sister and your uncle’s work.”

  “Our home, Cord,” Hen said.

  Michael wanted to blister Rathbourne until he got a glimpse of Hen’s drawn face. “Gabby is a young woman escaping Napoleon and his intention to marry her off to his brother. She is not a threat to anyone.”

  “I’ll be the judge of the threat. What is her name? And how did you meet her?”

  Hen protested. “Michael is a good judge of character. He wouldn’t risk our saf
ety by bringing a French spy into our home.”

  Michael cleared his throat. “Mademoiselle Gabrielle De Valmont. Her brother is the Marquis De Valmont.”

  Hen swayed back into Rathbourne’s arms, her face devoid of all color. “My heavens.”

  Michael reached for his sister, but Rathbourne had already wrapped his arms around her and was leading her to a wingback chair in front of the fireplace. “Sit down. I’ll ring for Mrs. Brompton.” He knelt in front of her and caressed her hands.

  Hen went willingly to the chair. This passivity wasn’t like his hearty sister. Hen had never swooned or fainted in her life. He bent over his sister. “What is it, Hen?”

  Hen shook her head. “Oh, Michael, her brother, he was a French spy. He was killed in front of my eyes. It was horrible.”

  Rathbourne’s jaw jutted forward and the tick was clearly prominent. “You’ve only been back in England a few hours and you’re already creating chaos. And stressing your sister.”

  “That isn’t fair, Cord. Michael didn’t know. How could he?”

  “Oh, Hen. Gabby is going to be devastated. Her parents were killed in the Revolution. All she had was her brother. I must go to her, but how will I tell her? She has been anticipating her reunion with him.”

  “Henrietta is not going to meet this woman.” Rathbourne glared at Michael.

  Michael glared back. “I don’t believe for a minute Gabby is a threat. When you meet her, Hen, you’ll see she is a warm and caring young woman.”

  Rathbourne rose slowly from his knees, his body and voice rigid. “I will interview her and decide what is to be done.”

  Michael’s muscles locked into defiance. “You will not do any such thing. She is my responsibility, and I will not have her treated discourteously.”

  “My God, save me from such absurdity. Your Gabby’s brother was a French spy, and I will not allow your sister or your uncle to be in the vicinity of this woman until I’ve decided.”

  Hen rose, her color restored to two bright red spots on her cheeks. “Have you two finished? This is my home, and I will have a say in whom I shall meet.”

  “Henrietta, please be sensible.” Rathbourne took Hen’s hand. “You don’t believe in coincidences any more than I do. What are the chances that your brother just happened to bring home Valmont’s sister?”