Chapter Seventeen
The burly menwere holding the poor butler by his arms so his feet couldn’t reach the ground, and after them came several Dellborough and Teign footmen, shoving and pushing at one another.
Finally, the instigator of this riot—Teign himself, with Farnham at his elbow—strode into the room, Teign’s voice thundering, “I shall see Dellborough now, and those scoundrelly sons of mine. Dellborough, how dare you harbor these traitors!”
The Duke of Dellborough had risen to his feet. “Good evening, Lord Teign.” He looked down the long table to where his wife sat at the end. “My dear, are we harboring traitors?”
The duchess remained seated, regarding Teign with the expression of a householder who has found a cockroach in the flour bin. “Lord Teign,” she said. “What is the meaning of this unseemly and violent invasion of our home?”
The marquess glared at her, looked around at the luminaries gathered at the table, and made a visible effort to rein in his temper. “My apologies, Your Grace,” he snapped, with a perfunctory nod in place of a bow. “I had to see your husband, to tell him not to support my sons in their rebellion. I shall just be taking them with me, and leave you to get on with your dinner.”
“Lord Kemble?” said the duchess. “Do you wish to go with your father?”
“I do not,” Allan replied, managing to keep his voice calm, despite the anger and grief he always felt in his father’s presence.
“And what of you other brothers?” said the duchess, managing to speak over Teign’s angry retort.
All seven Sheppard brothers replied. Whether it was a “no”, an “I do not”, or “not likely”, their answers amounted to the same.
“You have your answer, Lord Teign,” said Her Grace of Dellborough. “If you wish to pursue any complaint you have against my husband, please have your secretary arrange an appointment with Dellborough’s secretary.”
Teign sneered. “What kind of a man are you, Dellborough? Letting a female speak for you?”
The duke chuckled. “A wise and happy one,” he replied. He exchanged a warm glance with his duchess.What an inspiration!Thirty years or more, and their love for one another was palpable.
“A man who bows to a woman is no man at all,” Teign announced. He added, “A woman should know her place—silent, obedient, and in a man’s bed. If she forgets it, she should be beaten.”
Good work, you old sinner. You have now alienated all the great ladies Dellborough and his wife had invited to dinner and most of the men.
Dellborough lifted an eyebrow at his wife, and she commented, “An interesting if primitive view. Tell me? How has it contributed to your domestic and marital happiness?”
The duke smirked.
Teign’s sneer deepened, and he turned on his footmen. “Seize my sons, you fools. Have you forgotten what we came for?”
Allan clenched his fist and prepared to leap to his feet.
“The marksmen in the minstrels’ gallery will shoot anyone who attempts to carry out that order,” Dellborough drawled. “Up to and including Lord Teign.”
Startled, Allan looked up. Sure enough, from the shadowy depths of the minstrel’s gallery, several rifle barrels pointed at Teign’s footmen, who were backing away despite the imprecations of their master.
Dellborough picked up his wine glass and leaned back in his seat. “My dear guests, I apologize in advance for the spilling of blood, but better to execute these invaders cleanly than to allow brawling in my wife’s dining room. Teign, your language, sir! Please do remember that ladies are present.” His drawl edged into insolence.
From a lifetime of observing the marquess, Allan could tell he was on the point of losing his temper. Could he be pushed over? He stood.
“You have no legal authority over us, Lord Teign. Your behavior toward us, our mothers, and our wives has destroyed any moral or filial responsibilities we might have toward you. None of us will ever live under your roof again, nor shall we obey your dictates. If you or your henchmen attempt to harm any of us, we shall seek recourse through the king’s law. God save the King.”
He sat down after the speech. His father would see it as further insolence, but truly it was because his knees were weak, as they always were, whenever he defied the old devil.
“And so say I,” said Baldwin.
“And I,” Cornelius echoed.
All of them spoke, one after another, in age order as if they had rehearsed it, while Teign exploded even more spectacularly than Allan had expected. Specks of foam flew from his lips as he ranted, then an apparent calm suddenly descended. This was the point at which he was most dangerous. Only by the most rigidself-control did Allan keep from flinching away from whatever torture Teign deemed a suitable punishment, and from the corner of his eye, he observed the same strain in his brothers.
In a low, grating voice, the marquess snarled, “You think you are so smart, Kemble. You think you’ve sent that little brat Jerome out of my reach. But think again. I have him, and his brother. If you don’t return… if any one of you refuses to return, I’ll start by breaking Jerome’s other leg. Then I’ll break his hands—he fancies himself on the piano, the useless molly boy. What sort of music can he make if I destroy his hands? I’ll leave him one hand to write to you, shall I? To beg you to come home. Did you think I’d let you send him to the Americas?”
Kemble managed not to sigh his relief. “Isaac and Jerome sailed yesterday on the Beatitude, an American tea clipper. You have no authority over American ships.”
