The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2), Sahara Kelly [best thriller novels to read txt] 📗

He squeezed her fingers. “As am I.”

Releasing her, he turned to the gentlemen as they went back into the hall. “I need to change and freshen up, and I dined early on the road. But a brandy would be most welcome, and I’m sure you all would like to know the results of my journey. So…” he glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, “if we could meet in the Rose room, in about half an hour?”

There was a chorus of agreement, and an energised group bustled around, Evan to put a small tray of food together, Jeremy to put glasses next to the brandy, Gabriel to carry Giles’s bags upstairs, over his objections, and Royce…Royce offered her his arm.

“We might as well pick the most comfortable chairs, my dear,” he grinned. “I’ll wager our Giles has plenty of information to offer, but it will take some wheedling to get it out of him. And I know for a fact, that the chair with the big pink cushion has a loose spring. I am not sitting on that for two hours, while Giles tries to decide what he will and won’t tell us.”

She chuckled, took his arm and allowed him to lead her into the Rose room. It was still warm from the day’s sun, and Jeremy had opened the French doors a little, letting the cooler evening air flow in.

The scent of roses blew in as well, coming from the small bushes they’d discovered during their attempts to clear up the back lawn for bowling.

Gwyneth settled herself in her favourite spot, the corner of the large couch that faced the fireplace. When alone, she’d been known to kick off her shoes and tuck her legs up beside her, but that was a liberty she reserved for privacy. While there wasn’t much that would shock either her or her gentlemen now, she still held onto that little touch of propriety that insisted ladies must always keep their feet together and on the floor.

Evan arrived with a tray that made her mouth water, even though she’d eaten not long before. He glanced at her. “I included a pot of our jam,” he said with a grin. “Lady Gwyneth’s special reserve, I’m calling it. And of course it will sell like hotcakes tomorrow for that alone.”

She blushed and hoped nobody noticed.

Gabriel came in, smiling from ear to ear. “He’ll be down in a little while. I think he must have slept in the carriage, for he’s quite himself.”

“Kicked you out, did he?” Royce raised an eyebrow.

“How did you guess?” laughed Gabriel. “He did indeed.”

“Well,” said Jeremy, pouring brandy for them, “I sincerely hope he has returned with some useful information.”

“As do we all,” agreed Evan, taking two glasses from him and bringing one to Gwyneth.

She took it with a nod of thanks and swirled the rich dark liquid, watching the colours change as it caught and released the candlelight. “I’m almost afraid of what he might have to say,” she observed. “I loathe that trouble seems to lurk around Wolfbridge, and even more at the thought it could be because of me.”

Royce snorted. “And were you here when Sir Amery Fairhurst was killed?”

“Um…no. No I wasn’t.”

“In that case, my dear girl, I think you can put those worries aside. Baxter Fairhurst pre-dates your arrival, as does his reputation for bad behaviour. The fact that he’s become associated with Randschen…again, Jeremy was here long before you, so that connection can’t be your fault either.”

“Well,” said Gwyneth, offended. “That puts me in my place, doesn’t it.”

“No, but it should stop you from worrying about things over which you have no control. Worry about the things you can do something about. Lord knows there’s enough of ‘em with this dratted fête.”

“Why Royce,” declared Jeremy, amused astonishment in his voice. “Anyone listening to you would think you weren’t looking forward to dressing up as a Medieval gentleman.”

“It’s the snug stockings, isn’t it?” Gabriel shook his head. “Pity. You have such fine legs for ‘em.”

The laughter rang through the room, even Royce joining in as he shook a threatening finger at Gabriel.

“A nice greeting,” came a voice from the doorway. “A room full of laughter is always a pleasure.” Giles walked in, nodding and with a surprisingly large smile.

“Here, Giles. Sit.” Jeremy gave him a brandy and motioned to a chair. “You must know we’re all on tenterhooks awaiting your news…”

“Assuming you have some?” Evan’s eyes were glued to Giles’s face, as were everyone else’s.

“I do,” he answered. “More than I’d expected and less than I wanted, so I suppose it was a worthwhile trip.”

“Let’s have it, then,” Royce crossed his legs at the ankles. “We’re ready.”

“Very well.” Giles sipped the brandy, took a moment to appreciate it, then looked around him. “I found several good sources of information in town. Most of them financial, since it turns out that our list of unpleasant characters share one thing in common…”

“They’re broke?” offered Jeremy.

“Not far off,” corroborated Giles. “Fairhurst has suffered from a series of bad investments over the past few years, and Randschen is living on other people’s generosity. Apparently, after the Congress of Vienna, there were considerable numbers of readjustments to estates and territories. While the Prussians gained land, along with Austria and Russia, some of the smaller holdings were merged to make larger and more impressive properties. The Randschen barony, or whatever they call it under a Margrave, was absorbed by one of those. The Randschen family received a lump sum, and sadly, our chap never learned the principles of economy or frugality.”

“He burned through his funds?” asked Gabriel.

“Quite rapidly, I understand.”

“So he’s looking for an influx of capital, as is Fairhurst.” Royce pursed his lips.

“That’s why Randschen offered for me,