The last to arrive was Whitney and his duchess who joined them a few minutes later. Aunt Isadora sent for refreshments to stave off their hunger until a full breakfast could be prepared. Only then did Gillian realize she was famished. Two pots of tea, a platter of sandwiches and most of a decanter of brandy later, the events of the past day were finally known by all in attendance. Gillian fell more in love with Moreham when he asked Perkins and Mrs. Osgood to join them during the telling.
After everyone had shared their tales, they all sat in silence. She wanted to cry at the slump of her uncle’s shoulders. Lady Roberts, Martin and Littleton had to be turned over to the Home Office for trial. Treason left no room for sympathy. All that was left was to summon the magistrate.
“I believe we should send word to the Home Secretary. Better to not involve the local magistrate. I will write the letter,” Philly said.
Uncle Whitney nodded. “I am most grateful for you handling this situation. They can remain here under lock and key until you have a decision from Whitehall. As for young Martin, I would ask for a boon. May I speak with him before he is taken away.”
Moreham spoke up, “Martin and Littleton are locked in the wine cellar with one of Philly’s grooms guarding the door. He has also asked to speak with you.”
“No time like the present.” Aunt Isadora rose to her feet and held her hand out. “Come, Whitney, we must talk to the lad.”
Moreham turned his attention to Philly. “I think Gillian and I will remain here with Whitney and the duchess for a while.”
“Remain here?” Philly demanded. “Why ever would you want to do that? Littleton’s agreement to give us names will mean we must act quickly. We must interrogate the peers he names.”
“You have Cross and Sturmbridge to help with the rounding up of peers. You have no need of me. I am supposed to be on my bridal trip, remember. I owe my wife a true courting. A bit out of order, but I don't think she will mind.”
Before Philly could argue the point, Perkins announced breakfast was being served in the main dining room, and those assembled followed him out of the library leaving Moreham and Gillian alone.
She held out her hand and waited for Moreham to join her. “You know, we will never live down the tale of how Lady Sylvia, Philly and even Sturmbridge knew we were in love.”
Moreham frowned. “My lady, I don’t remember ever saying I loved you.”
Gillian relished the passion she saw in his eyes. She pushed her toes upward and nibbled his bottom lip then whispered, “No, you haven’t said the words. You will. Trust me, you will. Before I am through with you, you will be a veritable besotted husband crying out to one and all how much you love your wife. Shall we join the others? I am famished. This spying business is hard work.”
Gillian wiggled from his hold and ran down the hall. With a shake of his head, James Buckley, Earl of Moreham, went after his wife.
Why had he ever thought marriage to this woman was a duty? He caught his bride by the hand, swung her up into his arms and carried her off to breakfast with a lighter countenance than he could ever remember possessing. Life was good.
Epilogue
Six months later
More House Ballroom
Standing in the library waiting for James, Gillian marveled at all that had happened since that first encounter with her husband.
The arrest of Rodney Littleton and Stephen Martin had been handled quietly. Both men had cooperated with Moreham and given testimony of their involvement with the French—providing information that routed an entire network of French spies. For their cooperation, both men were transported.
Lady Roberts chose a different end. James gave in to the duchess’ pleas for the viscountess to be released from her bindings with the caveat Whitney station a footman to guard her bedchamber door. No one had known the viscountess had secreted a bottle of laudanum away. Mrs. Osgood found her dead, sprawled across her bed.
“Shall we join the others?” James whispered in her ear. “We are the hosts this evening.”
Gillian smiled at her husband and laid her hand on his sleeve. “I would be delighted, my lord.”
James escorted her into the ballroom. She laughed at the sight of her uncle partnering Aunt Isadora around the floor with the lady’s yellow-as-the-sun turban and its bouquet of flowers threatening to stab her uncle in the eye.
One of the developments of the last few months had been the renewed friendship between Aunt Isadora and Philly. Aunt Isadora had embraced Philly’s love for shocking millinery. The grin on her uncle’s face spoke of his disregard for possible injury while enjoying his time with his wife. He would be fine.
“From the smile on your lips, I would venture to guess you are satisfied Whitney has come about with this business of discovering he has a son.”
Gillian nodded and smiled. Never taking her eyes off her aunt and uncle. “Oh yes, Uncle Whitney is much happier now he and Aunt Isadora are communicating with Mr. Martin.” She leaned closer to him and kissed his cheek. “Now that I have more time, I am thinking about finding a gentleman for your mama.”
He shook his head. “Sweeting, I beg to point out Mama and Philly are the matchmakers, not you.”
“I can try my hand at matchmaking. I have a partner for the endeavor.”
James’ face clouded. “You have a partner besides me? Who?”
“Sturmbridge has offered his powers of observation to advise on who is aware of whom.”
“Where is the fiend?” He looked around the room for his friend. “Never mind, I’ll find him later and put a stop to this madness.”
Gillian giggled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his chin. “I’m teasing, my love. I’m too busy enjoying my time with you to take on another interest.”
James smiled at
