Freddie clapped him on his shoulder. “Of course, it is ‘we,’ brother-in-law. You and I will brew a whisky like the world had never seen, or rather, tasted before. And we’ll grow filthily rich in the process.”
“You know that would be illegal.”
“Pouf. Illegal. You are a duke. Make it legal.” Freddie leaned forward, an eager look on his face. “You have the manpower, don’t you? The water from the loch. There’s got to be a loch somewhere? They’re littered all over Scotland. Need lots of water for whisky.”
There was, indeed, Loch Drumdross nearby. Gabriel had an entire village full of eager manpower. His estates were in shambles and needed drastic financial overhaul that his captain’s pension would not cover. Gabriel stroked his chin. Maybe the tulip had a point.
“You can chuck out caskets and caskets of whisky. Single malt whisky. Blended malt whisky. Vatted malt whisky. Mind you, it’ll take a while, at best three years or longer. But until then you have the lovely, bootlegged booze over there.” Freddie patted the whisky bottle lovingly. “And brandy, too What are you going to do with it all? Surely not send it back to the frogs? They don’t deserve it. Best is you drink it yourself.” Freddie grinned at him so charmingly that Gabriel felt a return smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Very well, Tottingham. It is worth a try. Under one condition: it’s going to be legal.”
“There’s no profit in it if we go legal—” Freddie started, but Gabriel raised his hand.
“That is my condition. Or we forget the entire enterprise.”
Freddie grumbled. Then held out his hand. “Deal. Legal. You will take care of the paperwork, and I will take care of the ins and outs of whisky making. You need not worry a thing over it.” He cracked his fingers.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Of course you can trust me!” Freddie placed a manicured hand over his heart. “You wound me to the quick. A Talbot is eminently trustable. You’ve married my sis’ after all. Not that I blame you.”
“Your sister is not here, in case you haven’t noticed. She has deceived me rather grossly.”
“So she has! Inconceivable, really. One wouldn’t have thought that she had it in her.”
Gabriel shook his head. “You really are a terrible brother, Freddie.”
Freddie grew serious. “I suppose I am. But you know what. Whatever she’s done, for whatever motivation, I know one thing. My sister is gold. She’s worth three times the likes of me. Maybe four. It pains me to say it, but she’s the only sensible person in the family. As good as a man. Better.” His face grew grim. “She held everyone together after father bit the grass. Do you know who found him in the study, after he’d done the deed?”
A feeling of horror overcame Gabriel. “No.”
“Yes.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“I may be a wastrel, but I know my sister’s worth.” Freddie leaned forward. “The question is: do you?”
Freddie suddenly seemed ages older than his youthful self as he stared into Gabriel’s eyes.
“I love your sister as I’ve loved no one ever before,” Gabriel said hoarsely.
Freddie quirked his lips into a quick grin. “Prime. That’s a bit over the top for my taste, but it’ll do. I suppose she’ll be back. Unless you decide to fetch her back, which might be the thing to do. ‘Til then, there is work to do. I will document everything, every design, and inform you of every move I make. Nothing underhand, I assure you. I will inform Higgins. He will be delighted.”
Freddie got up and walked away, whistling a tune to himself. At the bottom of the stairs, he paused and turned.
“Oh, and brother-in-law. Your Grace. Forgive me, but it must be said. If by chance you intend to seek her out personally, which may not be such a terrible idea, I would consider a change of linen. An entire overhaul of Your Grace’s wardrobe would be recommended. You look like you emerged directly from the bowels of a pirate ship from the previous century. If advice is needed”––he bowed––“this body will be more than happy to provide it. I tend to be somewhat of a connoisseur of fashion. And whisky,” he added, lest Gabriel forgot that crucial piece of information.
With those words, he minced down the servants’ stairs in search of Higgins.
Gabriel sighed. Maybe his brother-in-law had a point. It was time for him to leave his tower and re-enter the world.
He had to go after Birdie.
Chapter 23
So this is where Birdie spent her childhood, Gabriel mused as the carriage turned onto Paradise Road in Bath. It came to a halt in front of a grey, formidable-looking mansion house with a Palladian portico. On a marble slate was engraved Miss Hilversham’s Seminary for Young Ladies.
A peal of girlish laughter rang from the gardens surrounding the house.
