Gillian joined the men and gifted Cross with a smile. She turned to him. “I beg to correct your assumption that I will meekly surrender to your wishes. You will include me in your ride out tomorrow morning.”
“My lady, you are well suited to be the earl’s wife. You share a propensity for listening at keyholes,” Cross opined with a wink.
“There is no need to eavesdrop when I know how my husband’s mind works. I am certain you think to leave me behind. Gentlemen can be very predictable.”
“Gillian, shouldn’t you be arranging for tea in the drawing room or ensuring dinner will be served at seven?” Moreham wanted her out of the library and off to handle one of the many details her uncle had asked of her. She didn’t belong in the middle of a planning session to bring down a cutthroat organization bent on destroying Britain.
“Oh, I almost forgot, that is the reason I am here. Philly and your mother are waiting for us in the drawing room. Shall we join them?”
His wife gave him a wink and waited. He fought the urge to roll his eyes in her direction. He lost the battle and sighed before reaching for her hand then placing it on his sleeve.
“Come, Cross, tea awaits.” He called to his friend over his shoulder. If he had to endure tea with his mother and Philly, then so did Cross.
To Moreham’s surprise Cross stepped around him and offered his arm to Gillian. “My lady, I must share some of the tales of Moreham’s misspent youth. Have known him since our first year at Eton, you know.”
“Cross, Gillian doesn’t need to hear off-color tales.” Moreham growled as he followed the pair to the drawing room.
Both laughed and sailed across the hall into the drawing room. Gillian looked at him and smiled. The minx had the nerve to gift him with a second wink before giving her full attention to Cross. “My lord, my aunt refuses to discuss Moreham with me. Something about far too scandalous for my ears.”
Cross laughed once more and led Gillian over to a settee. To Moreham’s ire, his so-called best friend dropped down to sit by his wife. Due to the gleam in the man’s eyes, Moreham decided Sturm was his new best friend.
“Oh no, I must tell about our first year at Cambridge, Moreham had a running competition with an upper classman named Nigel Brownley. They made every aspect of their academics a competition. You see, Moreham had a private tutor at Eton so he was able to move up a year ahead of the rest of us. Your husband is a very bright fellow,” Cross leaned closer to her and confided in a loud voice.
Moreham cringed. A catastrophe was about to happen, and he couldn’t stop Cross. He knew Gillian would have heard the tale at some point. His mother and Philly stopped talking and gave Cross their attention.
His sense of impending doom eased when Gillian favored him with another smile. Who was he to deny his wife a reason to admire him? “Yes, indeed my husband is very intelligent.”
“After our first year, Moreham invited a group of us to accompany him up to Town for the last week of the season. Stayed with him at More House. We were a cocky bunch of lads to be sure. Somehow, Nigel was included.
“After a night of going from ball to ball, we ended up in Moreham’s library. Can’t remember how it happened but Nigel challenged your husband. Moreham said we were too young to duel and countered with a dare to swim the Thames at high tide. Nigel looked like a fish on a hook. The man could not swim. Moreham adapted and changed the challenge to low tide.”
“Oh Moreham, you are a wicked man. Low tide? In all that muck?” Gillian chastised him with her eyes shining with mirth. He couldn’t keep the grin from his face for an instant longer.
He suddenly felt happier with Gillian’s attention focused on him. “Dearest, I thought it only right a man named Brownley should look the part. Though, I rather miscalculated where we were to swim—
“—Moreham, this is my story to tell,” Cross interrupted.
Moreham waved his hand for his friend to continue and sat back basking in his wife’s good humor.
“Moreham was concerned about being discovered, so they agreed to wait until after the low tide the next night. We all congregated upriver from Blackfriar’s Bridge. The rules of the engagement, Moreham as the challenger, would go into the river first. Take twenty paces into the river, turn and walk back to the shore. Your husband being the honorable man did as the agreement dictated. What my friend didn’t count on was a hole. He went down into the muck, face first.” Cross laughed so hard tears flowed down his cheeks.
Every time Cross appeared to be regaining control, he looked over at Moreham and went off into another fit of laughter. Moreham winced at the sight of Gillian, his mama and Philly all tittering at his expense.
Since Cross’ laughter precluded the man from finishing his version, Moreham decided to take the reins in the telling of his ignominious tale. “Just as Cross says, I fell down. Covered from head to foot in the putrid mud of the Thames. When Nigel saw my state, he turned tail and ran. The fellows chased after him to broadcast his cowardice. Cross and Sturmbridge remained with me and aided me in my journey home.”
“We couldn’t leave him as he was.” Cross snickered. “Moreham stood in the mews and we poured buckets of water on him to clean the muck off.”
“Once I was de-mucked, Timmie allowed me into the house where he subjected me to several baths before he deemed me clean enough to leave my rooms.”
Lady Sylvia piped in. “I was in residence, but the boys swore the servants to silence and I only found out what
