After that, he had come to her once a week, pulling down the blankets, throwing up her nightshirt, crawling on top of her, grunting and humping for a few minutes, then covering her again and leaving.
Once she announced she was with child, he had given up coming to her altogether until Harriet was weaned, at which point he resumed his weekly visits, except that now she had a child, he expected her to remain quietly at home while he made his frequent trips to race and hunt meetings in different parts of the country.
Mel had always assumed he had an arrangement with one or more scandalous women, and certainly he had spent few nights at home.
In the light of her new experience, she looked back with pity on her old self, and even on her first husband. Perhaps some of it was that she and Allan were in love, and their coupling was a physical expression of that love. In truth, she had never loved Blackmore, nor he her.
Mostly, though, it was Allan—kind and generous, masterful but respectful, adventurous, ever appreciative and encouraging. It was with deep regret that she allowed him to hand her up into the carriage for the journey back to London.
They had to return. Quite apart from all the work that awaited them in London, she and Allan were missing their daughters. His comment, as he took his seat beside her, showed that his thoughts were marching with hers. “Next time we come, we’ll bring Lydia and Harriet.”
“They will love it,” Mel agreed. “What did Moriarty’s man say?”
Allan had gone to speak to the team leader of their bodyguard as soon as they left the house. “He has had a dailyreport from Moriarty. No one has seen or heard from Teign. Nothing else of significance has happened.”
They had agreed with family and friends that a messenger would be sent if Teign was found, if there were any more attacks, or if anything else important happened. Since they had heard nothing, they could assume there was nothing to hear. Except that they both became more and more on edge as the carriage drove closer and closer to London.
“They would have told us if anything was wrong.” Allan made it a statement, but Mel knew it was truly a question.
“Yes, they would,” she assured him, hoping she was right. “Or at least the Moriarty men would have heard.” Her reason said it must be true, but she was still alert, waiting for something to go wrong and spoil her perfect happiness.
It was a relief to arrive at Clara’s house, to confirm that the lack of messages meant merely that there was nothing to report.
It was late in the evening by the time they arrived, so Allan waited until the next day to raise the question of what each of his brothers wanted from the list of assets. He started with Baldwin and Clara, since he saw them first.
Baldwin immediately objected to the concept. “Clara and I have discussed it, Allan. We don’t need you to do this. I’m a man grown, and my share of our savings is enough for me to look after my family until I have my medical degree.” He patted his wife’s hand. “And Clara is rich.”
“The point isn’t how much each of us need, it is what is fair.” They were eating a casual meal at the table in the morning room, and Allan leaned forward over the table to emphasize his point. “Had our father been a decent man, he would have given each of us an allowance, and then, when we reached the age of looking for more out of life than leisure, a sum of money to buy a commission or shares in a business or an estate. That is all I am proposing, and it is long overdue.”
“The Duke of Dellborough gave each of his sons the equivalent of the dowry he gave his daughters,” Mel pointed out.
“I insist on this,” Allan said. “If you won’t say what suits you best, I’ll do what Mel suggested, and put your name on the title deeds of the townhouses in Corrigan Place in Edinburgh. Since Clara has a house here in London, that will give you a home in both England and Scotland, and an income as well.”
Baldwin and Clara exchanged glances. “Baldwin is concerned your generosity will leave you in difficulties, brother,” said Clara. “We understand that the marquess’s estates are not as productive as they should be, and that returns on his investments are down.”
Allan shrugged. “That is true, but the books still balance and are in the black. When I inherit, even after giving you all your rightful share, I shall still have plenty of income to put some of it into improving performance, to live comfortably and with some grace, and to pay my wife’s dressmaker bills.”
The grin he sent Mel’s way celebrated the shared joke—he had been trying to persuade Mel to buy a whole new wardrobe and she was resisting.
In revenge, and also to lighten the mood, Mel told Baldwin and Clara, “What my husband is trying to say is that he is currently merely as rich as a lord instead of as rich as Croesus.”
“Truly,” Allan assured Baldwin, “this will not hurt me at all, and I need to do it. I have not been able to protect you all in the last twenty years. This will make me feel I’ve made some sort of recompense.”
“Balderdash,” Baldwin responded. “No one could have been a better brother.” After exchanging another speaking glance with Clara, he said, “Very well, then. If you insist. Clara and I shall take half the townhouses, and then, when I am qualified, a place in London suitable for consulting rooms.”
The same conversation played out with each of the other couples as they called during the day. Phineas and Harmony, too, for Allan told Phineas he owed a debt he could not repay for Phineas giving up his own life to protect and raise Lydia, and Mel felt the same toward Harmony.
By the end of the day, each of the seven brothers had a home and an income, or at least the promise of it, once the legalities were completed.
It remained only to give Isaac and Jerome the same opportunity, but that could wait until they returned.
