Page 29 of The Lady Loves A Scandal

“Mr. St. Paulson, what say you?” Gideon nodded at the magistrate.

The tall, lanky man swallowed, adjusted his cravat, and cleared his throat—an obviously redundant gesture that filled Sybil with no assurance that the man was up to the task of his position as magistrate.

“We not be care’n what this jackanape be think’n, do we, Donovan?” the man who’d attempted to grab Sybil asked his partner, his lips pulling wide in a grin that showed his rotting teeth. “Been chase’n this swab all ‘cross the country, we have.”

“While I am well versed in the law of the land, I find my jurisdiction to impose rules does not extend to maritime law and that of the British Navy. However, if you have not brought with you any written notice to apprehend and return Mr. Charles Smythe, gentlemen, then I cannot, in good faith of the law of this great land, allow you to leave with him in tow.” The words left St. Paulson on a long exhale, and the man’s shoulders caved in after he’d stated his piece.

Sybil couldn’t help but wonder what the magistrate would do if his words were challenged.

“As we said, we ain’t got no paperwork,” the sailor, Donovan, argued.

“We couldn’t read it even if’n we did,” his conspirator muttered.

“Then it appears you have no standing here.” Silas clapped his hands, signaling the end of it all. “Gentlemen, it is time you depart.”

The sailors glared at Silas and Gideon, but never did their eyes meet Sybil’s. They knew they had no recourse to collect Charles, though they were having a difficult time accepting the fact.

On each side of her, Sybil felt the coiled strength of her brother and Gideon—the man she loved—ready to do battle if it came to that.

“Gentlemen, let us retire inside,” Sybil called to the party at large, lifting her chin a notch. “These fellows are leaving, and I will not have this day marred by bloodshed. It is not every day a woman accepts the marriage proposal of the man she loves with all her heart.”

Gideon and Silas held their ground until the seamen mounted their horses and fled the drive, while Sybil led Charles and Mr. St. Paulson inside. She didn’t pause until they’d entered the study she and Gideon had been in earlier. A servant must have tended to the fire while they were outside, and a refreshment cart with cakes and steaming tea had been rolled close to the sideboard.

She couldn’t help but smile as she offered both men drinks and food while they waited for Silas and Gideon to join them. She hoped that their alliance had been solidified in an unbreakable manner. Sybil had no intention of departing England or turning away Gideon’s offer of marriage.

In fact, Sybil was past the age of needing her brother’s approval to wed, and with the magistrate present, the matter could be handled with a swift edict from a court official. It had been Silas who’d brought the man when the entire situation should have been handled privately amongst their families.

Her stomach twisted at the mere thought of needing to go to such great lengths to prove to her family that Gideon was the man she chose to spend the rest of her life with.

She handed both men cups and small plates filled with delicate pastries and sandwiches and they settled, the magistrate taking a straight-backed chair away from the fire while Charles sank to the lounge, propping his cane against the wall. Helping herself to a plate, she lowered to sit beside Charles as he stared silently into his cup.

“Charles?” she asked. “Is there something else I can get for you?”

His eyes lifted to meet hers, devoid of the good spirits he’d shown at their meal, and Sybil couldn’t help but feel a measure of sorrow for him. Imagining the horrors and pain he’d suffered during his forced years at sea was something Sybil simply wasn’t prepared for. That did not mean she could not offer him comfort and a kind ear if needed, however.

“Lady Sybil, you—as well as Lord Lichfield—have been gracious enough this night.” Charles shook his head, the action sending several droplets of tea over the rim of the cup and onto his bare hands. However, he did not seem to notice the hot liquid as he next spoke. “I had no intention of bringing any danger to you, my lady, and I pray that you and your family can forgive me.”

It startled Sybil to realize the depth of Charles’ guilt. “No harm came to me, and even if it had, I would still have been there to stand up for you.”

“Gideon and I waited many months to return to London”—Charles paused, grinning over at Sybil—“and my dear friend droned on and on about you every day. I nearly fled in the middle of the night to be away from his tales of love, and the fables of your beauty.”

Sybil laughed along with Charles, content to know that, once again, Gideon had been nothing but truthful with her.

“However, your beauty and steadfast, loyal nature are far beyond anything he shared.” Charles brought his cup to his lips and took a long, slow sip, his eyes drifting closed as he drank. “I am so happy that my dearest friend has found you. He deserves to be loved and cared for, especially after so many years carrying the burden of my abduction on his shoulders.”

“He never spoke of you to me before today. Not even the day he fled London,” Sybil confessed. It was her turn to look away, not having the strength to meet Charles’ stare. “Why do you think that is?”

She needed to know—did Gideon not trust her?

When Charles sighed, Sybil feared the worst. Gideon may love her, but he might never share with her his deepest moments, thoughts, and concerns.

“Over the years, Gideon scoured both England and Scotland in search of me. He had men stationed at every port, watching and waiting for any sighting of me. He’d had so many false reports over the years…so many times he’d hurry to Dover or up toward Edinburgh only to have his hopes dashed.” With his free hand, Charles rubbed at his leg, likely to soothe the chronic pain from his injury. “Disappointment, guilt, and shame are powerful, all-consuming emotions. To be honest, I don’t think Gideon ever thought to see me again. Not truly. Why would he mention his greatest failure—his words, not mine—to the woman he adores?”

“If a person loves another, they do not cast blame so out of hand.”

Charles chuckled, a bitter, heavy sound that attracted the notice of the magistrate where he sat on the opposite side of the room. “The blame had already been cast, so in a way, he was keeping from you anything that could tarnish your love for him.”

Sybil lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you blame him for your capture?”