desire to remarry. Thus they both came to me, and I groomed them to be the sons
of the house. Thomas, the youngest, settled in quite admirably, unlike his
brother, John, who fought me from the very first day he arrived at Devbridge
Manor.”
He saw the question forming on my lips, and added, “He blamed me, I believe, for
being alive whilst his father had died. He didn’t believe it was fair.”
I hadn’t meant that at all. “You said his name is John,” I said, a catch in my
voice. Surely, I thought, surely it couldn’t be the same John. There were dozens
of Johns hanging about, showing their names everywhere, bunches of Johns coating
the countryside, too many to even consider such a coincidence. I said, “I ask
because I met a man whose name is John shortly after Grandfather died. All in
all, he seemed a pleasant enough man.”
“What was his family name?”
“I don’t know,” I said, and knew I sounded like an idiot. “He was just someone I
saw on three different occasions. He enjoyed laughing. He also liked George. As
for George, I believe he would have preferred staying with the man, if he could
have been certain he would have been fed as well as I feed him.”
“Well, then, he can’t be my nephew. I have never heard John laugh. He is a
silent, somewhat sullen young man, not at all charming or at all remarkable when
it comes to either dealing with me or dealing with estate matters. I have never
even seen him with an animal to be able to estimate his charms in that arena. He
is, however, something of a war hero, so perhaps he will improve with time.
“To be fair, he hasn’t been home very often to have learned much. Yes, time will
tell.”
“And Thomas?”
“Ah, my sweet, self-absorbed Thomas, who has never given me a moment’s concern
since he was ten years old. No, he isn’t at all selfish, I don’t mean that. It
is just that he is concerned with every ache and pain he ever feels. The truth
is, he quacks himself. Whenever he hurts a finger or bangs an elbow, he must
needs read and study every booklet he can find on possible cures. His wife,
Amelia, deals well with him. I believe she has an entire closet filled with
potions and herbal remedies to treat everything from hairy warts to belly cramps.
Whenever the gypsies come around, she is off buying every restorative they
possess. She is the daughter of Viscount Waverleigh, a vastly unusual gentleman.
She is quite lovely, and something of a snob?a good thing in most situations, I’ve
found.
“And now, perhaps, John is home to stay.” He grew quiet again, and I looked out
the carriage window, surprised at the sudden darkness of the afternoon. It began
to drizzle, and I pulled the warm rug snugly about my legs. The chaise was well
sprung and quite luxurious, I thought, as I fingered the pale blue satin
upholstery. I removed a lemon kid glove so that I could touch the soft fabric,
and in doing so, revealed the Devbridge family ring that covered my finger to
the knuckle. I gazed at the massive emerald surrounded by diamonds, and realized
with a start that I was now the Countess of Devbridge. Had Lawrence’s first wife
worn it? Had they taken it from her finger when she was dead? Now, that was a
gruesome thought. And I wondered how George was faring with Miss Crislock. They
quite liked each other, and she had insisted that it was only right that I be
alone with my new husband, and not sitting there talking constantly to George.
Not an hour later we arrived in Repford, where
Lawrence had arranged accommodations for us at the Gray Goose Inn. No sooner had
we pulled into the inn yard than several boys came running to hold the horses
and open the chaise door.
We were greeted at the door with a very low bow from our landlord, who had not a
single strand of hair on his shining head, a fact easily ascertained since he