Page 19 of Miss Ellis Unleashed

Throsby caught her hand, brought it to his lips to kiss, and then clutched it tightly against his cheek. When he began to snore once more, Daisy recovered her hand with some difficulty and shuffled back to stand with her servants.

She looked at Throsby’s lanky frame on the too-small settee, and then considered the strength of the servants at hand. None were young enough, or spry enough, to evict a man of his size without difficulty, even as a group. “I guess we just leave him there?”

“Nothing else to do with him,” Gibbs agreed readily. “I suppose the sad news brought this on.”

“What news?”

“I was talking with his valet yesterday and learned his cousin was thrown from his horse.”

She hadn’t known Throsby had a cousin, or any family at all. She’d never asked, and he’d never mentioned them. “How does that explain Throsby invading my home?”

“Well, he’s no family to turn to for sympathy.”

“He has his friends,” she pointed out. “Abelton and…well, there must be others.”

Gibbs sighed. “Yes, there are others. The cousin died a few days ago, leaving a widow and children. Did you truly not know about his family?”

“No. I haven’t heard anything about them. I haven’t even heard about him for weeks. We haven’t spoken since he left.”

“You spoke with him on Bond Street just this morning,” Sarah piped up.

All the servants swiveled around and stared at her, brows raised.

“I’d hardly call that a conversation,” she complained.

“Well, you kicked him out, so of course, he wouldn’t drop by for tea,” the butler threw out, and then winced. “A death in the family would upset him, and it is nothing he’d want gossiped about by us servants.”

The other servants took the hint and filed from the room.

Gibbs nodded when they were gone. “I’m surprised he might care at all after the way that lot carried on after his father died.”

“What do you mean, ‘the way that lot carried on’?”

The butler looked at her with a sad expression. “His father died when he was little more than a dozen years old.”

“Yes,” she said impatiently, though she hadn’t known his exact age. So young to lose a parent, much younger than she’d been.

“I was a footman in the household at that time, so this is not unfounded gossip. In short, the maternal side of the family attempted to take charge of him and came to drag him off to the countryside. He refused to leave his town house, but they forced him to go.”

Daisy gasped. “They did not!”

“They did. Several times, in fact.” Gibbs’ eyes gleamed with amusement briefly. “The master ran back to the London town house each time, and then finally hid himself in the house so well they couldn’t get him out again. I suspect he went out on the roof. So dangerous, but he was determined to remain in the only home he knew. Eventually, they gave up, but only after receiving assurances that they would be sent for if trouble arose.”

Daisy considered Gibbs for a long moment. “You never sent for them, did you?”

“They were mean to him. He was just a little lad, but Lord Throsby was fearless, determined to take care of himself.”

She nodded slowly, and then glanced at Throsby. “But this isn’t that man. Look at him.”

“No, this is what he came to be later—after several years of dissipation had taken its toll. Drunkenness and disorderly conduct were once commonplace events in his early life. I am sad to see him return to this sorry state.”

“What changed him?”

“Why, you, Miss Ellis. Then and now. If I may be so bold and perhaps a little indelicate, the death of your father gave Lord Throsby the challenge he formerly lacked. He thrives in difficult situations.”

Yes, she had challenged him at every turn, or at least tried to be as difficult as possible. She wet her lips and turned to Gibbs, a man who’d seen Throsby at his best and worst. Perhaps the only one who knew him truly. “Tell me, if he was so attached to his London town house, why did he insist on moving in with me here? Why not keep me there instead? Was I not good enough to live at that esteemed address?”

Gibbs reached out and touched her shoulder lightly. “If he had, wouldn’t he have been as unfeeling as his distant relations? Your memories of your father were here.”