“Come to Woodglen,” Phillip said. “Maybe things will be clearer.”
“I loathe that place,” Gideon muttered, staring at his lap, hands clasped between his knees.
“Then London. Come to London with me,” Phillip urged.
“The Tavernash townhouse?” Gideon glanced up through lowered lashes, skeptical and unbending.
“Is there a place more neutral than that?” Rhys asked.
“Ashmead.” Brynn’s suggestion startled Maddy, startled and delighted her.
“Yes!” she agreed, smiling for the first time. “Bring your children to visit me at Clarion Hall in Ashmead. My niece and nephew are there and would love to meet them. Or stay with me in the dower house. If you wish for more privacy, The Willow and the Rose is close by and first-rate.”And the Bensons have experience with messy family complications.She knew instinctively old Robert Benson would help her sons-in-law sort things, if only she could get them there.
Neither answered.
“You’ve had a shock and need time to think about it, but say you’ll come. We can sort it out.” She had no idea how, but she had hope. “Come for Twelfth Night.”
Phillip and Gideon eyed each other cautiously.
“It is slow that time of year,” Rhys said with a slight smile for Gideon.
Maddy wondered if Gideon remembered Twelfth Night at Woodglen—all debauchery and indulgence—and she almost suggested a different time.
“With my children, you say?” Gideon asked, his eyes never leaving his brother.
“Yes, I want to become better acquainted with them.”
“And there are other children?”
“Clarion’s son and daughter. He will welcome your children—and you. Bring them, please. They give joy and hope to all of us in the middle of this mess.
“They do,” Phillip said sadly. He shook the sadness off. “And it would be good to have time to get reacquainted. We don’t have to make decisions quickly.”
Gideon nodded, and Maddy almost fainted with relief.
*
Gideon did notstay for dinner, much less overnight, claiming the decision to travel to Ashmead meant he needed every day he had to prepare. The others allowed the conceit. Brynn suspected Kendrick ran to lick his wounds but allowed that he needed time to consider his options in regard to the Glenmoor estate. Too relieved to have Madelyn take the twin burdens of truth and honor from his shoulders, he didn’t blame the man.
Fitful conversation—largely initiated by Rhys—punctuated a glum dinner during which Glenmoor largely stared at his plate and Madelyn moved food around on hers. As the meal came to a welcome conclusion, the duchess, having been assured by Rhys that express messages could indeed be sent to London if not Ashmead, she left the gentlemen to their port, claiming her intention to alert Clarion about their discoveries and plans.
Rhys sent his servant away with the port and retrieved a bottle of whiskey and three glasses from a side cupboard before pouring a drink for Glenmoor first. “I believe you could use something stronger tonight, Your Grace.”
The duke’s lip quirked in a rueful smile before he murmured thanks, downed the whiskey with a shudder, and held out his glass for another.
“My brother and I don’t wish to intrude, Your Grace,” Rhys offered, cordial as always, “but we can be good listeners.”
Speak for yourself!Brynn frowned into his drink. He preferred to stay away from the Tavernash family drama, unable to dredge up more than a modicum of pity for the overbred lordling who would likely remain obscenely wealthy no matter how that drama played out.
Except Madelyn loves him, you crotchety fool.He steeled himself for an outburst of self-pity and lamentation, but Glenmoor—Tavernash—surprised him.
“Maybe we should drop ‘Your Grace’ under the circumstances, here at least, where you both know the truth. But no, I do not wish to rake over my family’s tangled transgressions and wretched choices.” He sipped the second drink with steady determination if at a less impulsive speed. Brynn hoped they wouldn’t be forced to drag a maudlin drunk to his bed before the night was over.
Tavernash surprised him again. “What you can do for me, Morgan, is teach me more about mining operations. It appears I’m to be a mine owner if naught else, and I have to deal with that hellhole at Glynrhos. My brother’s colliery shamed me.”
“You could learn much from Gideon Kendrick.”
The duke grunted. “In time, yes. But I’m here now. Should I storm down to Merthyr Tydfil and dismiss Shuttleworth first? Or issue a spate of ducal decrees and depart for London in high dudgeon, hoping he complies? Maybe I should just sell the damned thing.”
