The Reluctant Guardian. Susanne Dietze
will look twice at me.” He stood. “They know who I am and what my mother did.”
“History as ancient as dust.”
“If I am seen among the ton, my grandmother will believe—Never mind.” Tavin rubbed his suddenly aching forehead. “I’ll follow Miss Lyfeld to ensure no harm befalls her, but I’ll not escort her about town like a moon-eyed pup.”
“As you wish.”
What Tavin wished was to mount Raghnall and ride to Hampshire.
A wave of foreboding roiled in his gut. He could not fulfill anyone’s expectations. Not his family’s, not God’s and certainly not his own. He should be in Hampshire, putting an end to the Sovereign and his murderous spree.
Hugh Beauchamp had better propose to Gemma Lyfeld by the end of the week or Tavin might have to do it on his behalf.
At the creak of the library door flinging open behind her, Gemma startled and dropped the book from her hand. Despite being safely away from Hampshire for a full week now, her nerves felt raw, exposed. She spun to the doorway.
“Oh, ’tis you.” She slumped against Wyling’s desk.
“A pleasure to see you, too, sister.” Amy grinned. In her yellow-trimmed dress, she looked reminiscent of sunshine and puffy clouds, a pleasant contrast to the overcast skies outside.
Gemma bit her lip. Amy had always been the prettier sister. The more beloved sister, perhaps. As a child, Amy had never trudged through the mud with her and Hugh, never required reminding she was a lady. Now that they were grown, Amy held the favor of a dutiful, titled husband and the respect of her family and peers. Including Gemma, who couldn’t blame anyone for preferring Amy. Her sister was kind, gentle and wise. And a woman of strong faith, too. Without the model of Amy’s forgiveness after their parents’ deaths, Gemma’s faith might well have disintegrated along with the ash from the fire that had killed her parents.
She scooped her book from the floor and smiled. “Forgive my unfortunate greeting. I was caught unawares.”
“Woolgathering about Hugh?”
Discussing Hugh was far easier than speaking about that Sovereign fellow. The throb in her ankle had nearly dissipated, but her thoughts of that day still ached. Hoping for distraction, she’d come here, her favorite room in the town house. Its soothing green palette and shelves of books invited her to curl into a plush, padded chair and lose herself for hours.
And wait for Hugh. “We expected him a sennight ago. I hope he’s not ill.”
“I’m certain he’s giving you time for shopping and your court presentation. Do you miss him so much? Perhaps you do love him.”
Gemma blinked. Did love feel like annoyance? “Are you certain he hasn’t dropped by while we were out?”
“He’d have left his card.” Amy patted Gemma’s arm. “I’m certain he has good reason.”
Or perhaps Cristobel was right. Did Hugh have no intention of honoring his obligation? Her stomach soured. God, if Hugh begs off, where will that leave me? Serving Cristobel for the rest of my days?
And what if God wanted that, for her to live as Cristobel’s companion? Would she obey Him with joy or bitterness?
Gemma pushed the question aside. God understood how important it was to honor her parents and wed Hugh. And once they had married, she’d be close enough to see Petey and Eddie every day. It was best for everyone.
“In the meantime, I promised I’d find a book to read to the boys when they wake from their naps. Something with, as Petey demands, ‘a-venture.’ This title is promising. It has the word journey in it. Maybe it’s about a sailor, although a book on knights would have been preferable.”
“It must wait, I fear.” Amy’s mouth set in a grim line. “Mr. Knox has been closeted with Wyling these past forty minutes. Now he asks for you.”
A jolt shot up her spine. “What happened? Has that villain harmed Peter or Cristobel?”
“I don’t think so, else Wyling would have told me.”
At her words, the door opened and Tavin Knox entered the room, dressed in his usual black coat, boots and pantaloons. Although plain in style and color, his clothing was well tailored, revealing the breadth of his shoulders and lean waist to perfection. When he folded his arms over his broad chest, Gemma recalled what it had felt like to be held there, just over his heart.
Such notions would not do. She clutched the leather-bound volume to her chest.
Wyling followed Tavin, who offered a hasty nod of greeting. “You won’t like what I’m to say, Miss Lyfeld.”
“Good day to you, too, Mr. Knox.”
His dimple flashed. “Where are my manners?”
His sarcasm grated like clothing over a wound. “Where they always are, I expect.”
Amy tugged her to the silk settee and bade her to sit. “Enough, both of you.”
“Forgive me, ma’am.” Tavin’s smile grew. “Shall we start again? Good day.”
Despite herself, she smiled back.
His stance spread, reminding her of the portrait she’d seen of Admiral Lord Nelson. Confident, unmovable despite the churning waves beneath him. “While I expected to continue my search for the Sovereign, my superior has issued new orders for me.”
Disappointing, considering the sooner the Sovereign was caught the sooner she’d sleep through the night. “Is someone else investigating the Sovereign, then?”
“Not...exactly.” Tavin speared her with his stare. “As a precautionary measure, I have been ordered to watch you.”
Her jaw loosened, fell. “Like an animal in the menagerie?”
“Yes. That is to say, should you remember any more details which would help us in our investigation—”
“I have told you everything.”
“—or should some danger befall you, I shall be close by to protect you and apprehend the Sovereign or his henchmen.”
She gripped the book to her chest, wincing when it dug into her ribs. “He is coming here? To London? To me?”
He shifted his weight from one boot to the other. “My superior, Garner, wishes to ensure your safety in the unlikely event the Sovereign has identified you and comes to London.”
She searched her relatives’ faces for protests, help, sympathy, something. But Amy’s smile was forbearing, and Wyling just shrugged.
“I cannot name the man. I am no threat to him.”
“But he is a threat to you. Potentially.” He expelled a long breath. “The Sovereign cannot be underestimated. I told you my friend Thomason was killed by the Sovereign, but I did not elaborate because it is unfit for feminine ears.”
How maddening. “If there is something to be said, please do so.”
He glanced at Wyling and stared into her eyes. “Several months ago, the revenue agent assigned to your part of Hampshire noted a change in the local smugglers’ habits. Five local men murdered...in the same singular fashion.”
“Why did I not hear of five murders until now? Not from Peter, nor in the village.”
“You are a woman. And the men were not wellborn. It is little surprise you never heard of it.” He shook his head. “Thomason must have discovered something, for he was murdered in the same manner as the others.”
What manner? Gemma’s hand pressed her churning stomach. Perhaps