“No need, John. I’d merely forgotten you’ve been using this room as your office. We’ll discuss them now. Miss Burke, would you be so kind as to ring for coffee?”
She did not hesitate to accept the opportunity for escape. As she hurried toward the bellpull near the door, Mr. Hawthorne asked Gabriel in a low but firm voice, “I know it’s none of my business, Ashborough, but when may we except an announcement of your betrothal to—?”
She turned back and spoke over him, pretending not to have heard the steward’s question. “What time can the coach be ready, my lord? I really must get to Holyhead in time to make the last packet. I’m bound for Dublin today, Mr. Hawthorne,” she explained, meeting his eyes with her firmest gaze. “My family is expecting me.”
“Dublin?” His brows rose. “Well, now, Miss Burke, I suspect this”—with one hand, he snapped open his newspaper and laid it on the desktop—“may change your plans.”
Reluctantly, she drew closer. At first her mind could do no more than take in snatches of print: rebels—armed insurrection—spread to the countryside—crushed.
Gabriel spun the paper to face him and leaned over the desk to read more carefully. “It seems a group of United Irishmen seized the mail coaches as they left Dublin, possibly as some sort of signal,” he said after a moment, then paused to read more. “The plot was foiled, however. The militia have put down the rebels in the area surrounding Dublin.”
Cami felt herself sinking; Mr. Hawthorne caught her by the elbow and helped her to a chair. The militia have put down the rebels…. She knew what that meant. Her brothers. Their friends. Likely dead at the hands of the loyalists.
“Well, Hawthorne is right. This rather changes things.” With one hand Gabriel folded the newspaper and returned it to his steward, ignoring her outstretched hand. What did it contain that he did not want her to see?
“Changes what, my lord?” She struggled to her feet. “I have to know that my family is safe. I must go to them.”
His gaze raked over her. “Not alone.”
Was it her imagination, or was that a flicker of suspicion in his dark eyes? Was he remembering what she’d told him about Paris and Galen? Did he imagine she had known something of this plot?
“I’ll make arrangements for the coach to be ready as soon as possible,” he said, stepping away from them both. “Clearly, Miss Burke still requires my escort.”
“No. You mustn’t get wrapped up in this,” she argued. Surely he realized that a trip to Dublin under such circumstances, any association at all with the United Irishmen, would only add fuel to the flames his uncle had been fanning.
But her protest fell on deaf ears. “That other matter will have to wait, John,” he added as he bowed sharply and strode from the room.
Instead of following, she sank back into the chair. Nothing was going to plan. “No. He must not—Mr. Hawthorne, you must help me. I really have no fear for my own safety. Dublin is my home. But Lord Ashborough must return to London as soon as possible.”
The steward gave a gruff noise of agreement. “He ought never to have left.”
“Well, why did he?” she demanded. “Did you not call him here? Some urgent matter of business, he said….” But, no. That had been her supposition. Mr. Hawthorne frowned, and understanding washed over her. “He did it for me, did he not?”
“I believe he wanted to see you safely home, yes.”
She thought of Mr. Hawthorne’s and Mrs. Neville’s evident surprise at their arrival. “He never meant to come to Stoke, did he?” Mr. Hawthorne said nothing in reply, but his expression told her she had guessed right. She would have refused Gabriel’s help if he’d offered it outright. So he had found a way to make it difficult for her to say no, by goading her into his carriage, then claiming to be traveling this way already. And in the process, he had compromised his future and put himself through hell.
“But if you know that he ought to have stayed in London,” she said after a moment, “you must also know…”
“About the mischief his uncle has planned? Aye.” Disgust made his voice rough. “Sebastian Finch was always one for wild talk, and folks will likely know this treason charge is no different. I cannot think it will come to aught.”
“Unfortunately, Lord Ashborough has made other enemies.”
Mr. Hawthorne looked taken aback at her announcement; even Titan had a quizzical tilt to his head.
Indecision prickled along her spine. This man had known the Marquess of Ashborough from a boy. Who was she to reveal to him the man Gabriel had become, the scoundrel known as Lord Ash? She drew a steadying breath. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Hawthorne, but your employer is an inveterate gambler. And the very men he’s ruined likely will be only too happy to return the favor.”
An odd smile creased the steward’s face. “His lordship’s fancy for a game of cards is no secret, Miss Burke. Why, for a time, it was how he kept this place afloat. His father loved this place, after his fashion. But he could not care for it. When he died, things were in a shambles. The tenants were desperate. Young Ashborough did what he had to do to turn things around. Oh, I don’t doubt but what he’s taught a few wastrels a lesson over the years, but he never was a bad lad.”
“I believe you’re right, sir. Unfortunately, he’s taken his enemies’ words to heart for so long, he’s come to believe the
