Trials of Artemis Read online

  "And he was raised by the viscount?"

  Jack set her brush down and went over to stand in front of Gideon. "Not exactly."

  He pulled her forward so that she stood between his knees with his arms hooked over her hips. "Do I sense a story to be told?"

  She smiled and threaded her fingers through his hair. "I'm sure you would rather do something else than be told a story."

  He was diligently inspecting the bows, ties and ruffles on her diaphanous nightgown and robe. "On the contrary, I love stories."

  Jack thought that if marriage consisted only of moments like these, sweet intimate moments, then it was something that everyone should aspire to. "Sometimes, if both his Lord and Ladyship are out, you can still get the servants to tell the story of the day poor Justin's mother died. Sibyl was shunned by her family, you see, for becoming pregnant. She had also been turned off from employment at the estate. But our local midwife, Old Madge, took sympathy when it was time for the birth and let Sibyl stay at her home. When Sibyl sickened, Old Madge went to the family, and Sibyl's brother Bert finally consented to see her. They say she admitted to Bert who the father of the boy was and, on the day she died, Bert confronted the viscount." She paused which drew his attention from where he was untying one of the bows securing her robe. "Bert worked in the Viscount's stables, you see. A veritable mountain of a man, the servants always say, although I assume over the years tales of his size have become exaggerated. I was three when it happened and don't remember him. But they say the death of his baby sister had pushed him too far, and on that day he confronted the viscount who was fresh back from his morning ride. Pulled him off the horse and threw him up against the stable door. Told the viscount to take on the responsibility for his son or Bert himself would send the man to final judgment, which with Sibyl's death and only God knew what other sins on his soul would undoubtedly send him straight to the Devil."

  "That should have earned him a thrashing at least, if not outright execution."

  "After he extracted that promise, which according to Courtland required him to finally allow the viscount to breathe, and more the pity that, he left and was never heard from again."

  "Courtland sounds a bit bloodthirsty."

  "Most butlers are."

  Gideon choked. "Are you saying I need fear Dibbs?"

  She smiled. "No more than you need fear me."

  He pulled her down onto the bed. "That, my dear, was a politician's answer. And it leaves me quaking, I assure you."

  She ran her hands down his back. "Yes, I can tell."

  "You've quite taken to this like a duck to water, but I think it would be best if we didn't have another joining tonight."

  Jack felt a bit petulant, but admitted as she plucked at her husband's silk sleeve. "I am a bit sore."

  "Instead perhaps we can try some of the more exotic pleasures from the book."

  Jack smiled. "Oh yes. That sounds delightful."

  Although exhausted from bed play, Gideon slept fitfully and was awake before dawn again. He slipped away from the soft, warm body of his wife, making sure that she was covered and snug. True to her stories, she hardly seemed disturbed by his efforts to disentangle himself and pull up her covers. It was tempting to carry her somewhere unusual to wake up, but as she was naked it limited the number of places he would want to put her. His thoughts brought him up short. When was the last time that he had teased someone or been playful? He honestly couldn't remember. There were some stories from school, mostly he and Quince when they were in shorts. Before Gideon's father had died. Not pleased with the direction his mind had wandered, Gideon went to the escritoire in his bedroom to write Jack a short note and leave it on her pillow.

  Once downstairs he said to the footman on duty, "Please ask our guest Mr. Miller if he would like to join me on my ride. I shall be taking coffee in the morning room when he comes down."

  "Yes, my lord."

  A mere ten minutes later the young Mr. Miller made his appearance, once again dressed in what Gideon knew to be his own clothes from his youth. He indicated that the boy should take the seat next to him at the small round table. As a footman poured coffee and offered milk and sugar, which the boy politely refused, Gideon assessed him.

  "It's clear that you're younger than my wife, but how old are you?"

  "Fifteen, sir. I mean, my lord."

  Gideon raised a brow, knowing that the clothes the boy wore had been from his own twentieth year and he had not been small, even then. The lad would most likely turn out to be a mountain of a man himself.

  "You can ride, I assume?"

  "Oh yes sir, I mean my lord. Charlie taught me."

  Charlie Bittlesworth, known to be as horse mad as any Englishman had a right to be, had taken the time to teach the boy to ride, which meant the young man could be a fine rider indeed. Neither Robert nor Charlie had ever mentioned having a bastard half-brother. Not that it was something that would come up in polite conversation, but if Justin were truly as doted upon as his and Jack's comments seemed to suggest it was odd that the brothers hadn't let something slip after all these years. Then again they hadn't mentioned that they let their little sister and her friends race curricles at home either. Perhaps there was just a great deal he didn't know about the Bittlesworths.

  Gideon signaled the footman over. "Have them saddle Brier as well as Falcon. She could do with some exercise."

  Justin seemed to deflate a bit at the thought that he was being assigned a mare.

  "Oh, don't let her sex fool you. I live in fear that my wife will take a fancy to her. She is one of the most headstrong and spirited animals I've known."

  The boy smiled, amused. "Jack or the mare?"

  Gideon nearly choked on his sip of coffee. "I see your point, but I was referring to Brier."

  After finishing his second cup and allowing Justin time to sip at his own brew, Gideon rose and led the way out to the stables. Although polite and deferential, Justin didn't quite have the puppy dog quality of Philip, which was a bit of a relief. As much as he liked Philip and thought the young man was maturing into an effective steward, it was tiresome to always have him underfoot while at Kellington. As Gideon took up the reins for his own dark bay, Falcon, he observed Justin approaching the massive and stomping dapple-gray mare. The boy had not only been taught well but also appeared to have some of Charlie's affinity for animals, greeting and calming the horse before attempting to mount her. If they continued to get along well perhaps he would gift the mare to the young man, both removing it from his stable before his wife could decide to ride her and gaining his wife's approval for indulging her young friend. The desire to both protect and delight his young wife didn't bear close scrutiny so he urged Falcon into a gallop along the open field with the young Mr. Miller in close pursuit.

  When Jack awoke she found her husband's note almost immediately, having reached out a hand for him on the bed.

  "Good morning wife - I think I shall take your young friend riding since you and I will be going to the Vicarage later and I don't want you to become overtired of my company. Will ask Dibbs to place the newspaper at breakfast table. Hopefully this change to protocol will not inspire him to choke off my air as you say butlers are wont to do.

  Yours, Gideon"

  She lay on the bed laughing quite helplessly and thinking that oh yes, there was definitely much to be said for the state of marriage. Before she left the bedroom she tucked the note into the same book that held a pressed yellow rose petal.

  Not wanting to tear apart his paper before he had a chance to read it, Jack was pushing a bite of egg around her plate and considering whether she should redecorate her suite when she heard them return. There was laughter in the hallway, which was a relief. Honestly she was more than a little afraid that Gideon had taken Justin on a ride simply to terrorize the boy. Not that he was a boy any longer, she corrected herself. He was a young man. It had amazed her to see how much he had grown in the two years she had been gone. Sabre, who had seen hi
m more recently, had said as much in one of her letters, but it was still difficult to believe. He had always been the little boy following them around. Beloved and indulged. No, the viscount had not raised his son. Other than allowing the boy to live on the property, he had had as little to do with him as possible. The Bittlesworth boys and the Haberdashers had raised him, with no little help from the servants that adored him and reveled in the memory of how his Uncle Bert had secured his future.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The men entered discussing politics again. Justin said, "But what if the entire purpose of Rutledge's vote is to call out Lexington's opinion since Rutledge has two years before his reelection while Lexington has to explain his actions to his voters now?"

  Seeing Jack sitting at the table Gideon came over to kiss her cheek before sitting. "It seems your young Mr. Miller is quite well educated for a man who hasn't ever gone to school."

  Justin flushed at the odd combination of compliment and set-down that the earl's comment embodied and took his own seat. Jack tried not to let her hackles rise at Gideon upsetting her friend and said mildly, "Yes, we always tried to make sure he received the best of our instruction."

  "That might explain it, then. I always felt that at least half of our instructors were drawn to the profession due to their sadistic intent towards boys. However, why is it that the viscount never sent Mr. Miller to school? It seems oddly remiss of him.”

  Jack crumbled some toast in her fingers and flitted her gaze past Justin, who seemed diligently absorbed in cutting his ham.

  "I already asked Mr. Miller himself," Gideon pressed, "and he seemed quite uninformed on the topic. Perhaps you have some insight?"

  "I'm sure it never occurred to him to do so."

  "How can it not occur to you do to so? The list of duties to one's... other children is quite short but I'm fairly certain that the list includes preparing them for a livelihood."

  Jack looked at her husband speculatively, wondering if he had any by-blows she would come to learn about. "To the best of my knowledge, the viscount has never spoken to Justin nor, perhaps, even thought about him. Justin hasn’t as much been recognized as ignored and allowed to live at the estate. Perhaps we could find something else to talk about?"

  "He spoke to me once," Justin said softly, still focused rather intently on his plate.

  "When?" Jack blurted before she could stop herself. It didn't seem a memory that Justin treasured.

  "Before they left for Charlie's tour. Sabre had..." Justin gave a deep sigh, distressed by the memory. "Sabre had asked that I be allowed to join them. The viscount came to me to see if I had asked her to do that, which I hadn't."

  "Of course not," Jack said loyally, "you would never presume."

  Justin nodded, now absorbed in pushing small bits of ham with his fork. "He said that... he said that I was nothing and should learn to be content with such a lot in life. That I was lucky he allowed me to be a servant in his home and I was old enough to put myself to better use in the stables. You see, my lord," Justin gave the earl a wry smile, "the viscount undoubtedly believes he has prepared me for my livelihood."

  Jack's heart broke, both at the words the viscount had said and the brave face that this young man put on about a scene that must have pulled his own heart out by the roots. "Oh Justin!" she cried, jumping up and racing around the table to throw her arms around his shoulders. The sympathy was his undoing and, covering his face with his hands, he sobbed under her embrace.

  Gideon realized he was sitting with a forkful of egg halfway to his mouth and finally set it down. He was not used to outbursts of emotion at his breakfast table, certainly, but it was also the shock of what the viscount had said. The boy was intelligent, well educated, and well mannered, yet Bittlesworth expected him to work in the stable? And be glad of it? More shocking still was that the lad seemed to accept it.

  He also, he noticed, wasn't as irritated by his wife's affection for the boy as he had been. She truly did seem sisterly, and sometimes even motherly, when it came to Mr. Miller. As the boy’s sobs subsided she patted his shoulder, kissed him on the head, and pushed a linen napkin into his hands. She took her own seat with a brisk efficiency, looking a bit red-eyed herself but wanting to move them past this episode with the minimum of fuss. Justin wiped his face and set to cutting more of the food on his plate although nothing seemed to be going into his mouth.

  "How do you like London, Mr. Miller?" Gideon asked.

  "I've never been there, my lord," he said, still staring at his placesetting.

  "Well, there may be something better than the stables for you there. I'm in need of a clerk."

  The young man looked up at him with such a surge of hope and gratitude that Gideon almost backed away from him.

  "I'm at your service, my lord," the young man said quickly.

  Blast it all, this was another puppy dog. To change the subject Gideon gestured to the paper lying folded on the table. "You haven't read the newspaper yet this morning, my dear?"

  "I usually enjoy our morning conversations. We can read it in your study afterwards. Besides… I wouldn't want to risk your respiration," she added with a surreptitious nod to Dibbs.

  Gideon had to suppress a chuckle as the butler tried to assess whether the countess had been signaling for him.

  As of this moment Jack was completely and totally in love with her husband. He would do something later to irritate her, she had no doubt, but as of this moment he was the most wonderful, amazing man of her acquaintance. Offering Justin a clerkship as though it were completely natural to do so! She understood the quiet and reverent devotion of his servants now. Somehow he always knew the thing to do to put everything to rights.

  Gideon checked his watch and addressed Justin. "Perhaps you can come to my study at ten o'clock to begin reviewing papers you will need to understand. That will give the countess and I time to read our newspaper."

  Jack jumped up from the table and handed the newspaper to her husband. "I'll be to the study in just a moment," she said. "If you gentlemen will excuse me?"

  They both stood and bowed as she dashed out of the dining room and up the stairs. She wanted to write a quick note to Sabre and George about Justin's turn of fortune. Since Sabre had instructed her to send correspondence by way of Robert now anyway instead of the viscount's London address, which as she thought about it seemed odd, she wrote a short cover letter to Robert as well. "Am delighted to inform you that Justin Miller has accepted a clerkship with my husband, Earl of Harrington." Although it felt odd and gave her pause, she signed the letter "Lady Harrington." Then below that she scribbled "Jack."

  She was back downstairs and entering her husband's study in less than ten minutes, carrying the letters that he would need to frank for delivery. He was seated at his desk and had already pulled the newspaper apart, his head buried in the foreign news section. Seeing her he stood but she waved him back to his seat.

  "The society pages are right there," he said, nodding to a section he had set on the edge of his desk.

  Jack wrinkled her nose. "I don't read the society pages."

  He looked over his paper and raised a brow at her. "Then how did we come to be married?" he teased.

  "My mother reads the society pages, if you must know. And in our case even if both of us were blithely ignorant of the pages our fate would have become clear in short enough time."

  "True enough. What section do you want, then?"

  She rifled through the stack in front of him. "The financials, if you don't mind. Ah, here they are."

  She pulled out the thin section with tiny columns of numbers and went over to the couch.

  "What on earth do you do with the financials?"

  "Check on my investments, dear. What do you do with them?"

  "You have investments?"

  "Technically they are my father's investments."

  "Your father allows you to invest his money?"

  Jack set down the paper in her lap. "Since this is
apparently very difficult for you, I will assure you that I don't invest all of father's money. Although I do think he follows my investments fairly closely now."

  "How much does he allow you to invest?"

  "I started with fifty pounds when I was twelve and have it up over two hundred now. Well, at least as of three weeks ago. I haven't checked my investments since we left London."

  "How old are you?"

  "You don't know? I’ll be nineteen this year."

  "But that's... the average rate of return must be..."

  "Over twenty percent per year, yes."

  "That's remarkable."

  "Thank you. Although it’s become much easier in the last two years.”

  “Oh, and how is that?”

  “Now I primarily follow the company W.T. Investments,” she murmured, becoming distracted by the information in the paper in front of her.

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes. This time I’ve tried to anticipate them and made a gamble that they are going to acquire the Jones-Berry mining concern in Cornwall but haven’t seen yet if I was correct.”

  “You were correct.”

  Jack looked up in interest. “Oh, you follow them as well?”

  “They have been very successful.”

  “Yes they have,” she said, smiling in satisfaction, “and by anticipating this acquisition I have positioned myself to make an even tidier sum than usual.”

  “If I may ask, how did you surmise they would make this purchase?”

  She set the paper down for a moment, warming to a favorite topic that few people wanted to talk to her about. “It was about three years ago that I began to notice W.T. Investments. At first I thought that they were merely excellent investors but it soon became clear that they purchased majority interest in companies that were in need of management improvement. Based on the results I assume they use their majority position to force specific remedies.”