Page 72 of A Winter Scandal

Gabriel awoke on Christmas morning and reached for Thea before he remembered that he was back at the Priory in his own bed. He had spent only one night with her, yet it seemed unnatural that she was not there by his side, warm and soft. He closed his eyes, waiting for his heart to slow down and his blood to settle from the heated dream he had been having. It had involved Thea, of course, and it was better not to remember it too closely or he would find himself in a sorry state to start the morning.

He swung out of bed and rang for his valet, hoping that movement would help dispel his thoughts of Thea. Ridiculous as it seemed, he had been feeling as if something were missing ever since he’d left her at the vicarage the night before. He had gone upstairs to his room last night as soon as he returned, having no desire to see any of the others or explain what had happened. But once he had bathed and changed and lain down, he had found himself curiously unable to sleep. The problem, he knew, was that he missed having Thea in bed beside him.

Even stranger was that the feeling was still there this morning. He decided to drive over to see her after breakfast, then remembered that it was Christmas. She would be feasting with her family and friends. No doubt she would go to church this morning; she was the vicar’s sister, after all. Any call he made on her would have to wait until this afternoon. He wondered if it would cause gossip in the village if he called on her on Christmas Day. He was beginning to think that almost anything he did would cause gossip in the village.

His valet brought tea and toast to ward off Gabriel’s hunger until the feasting began. Gabriel ate, staring out the window toward the ruins of the abbey in the distance, then shaved and dressed in the clothes Barts had laid out for him. He glanced at his watch after he attached it to his vest and was appalled to see how little time had passed. The day was going to prove endless, he feared.

He had slept late, and dressing was a long process, made even more so by his valet’s obsessive attempt to tie Gabriel’s neckcloth in a perfect and intricate arrangement of Barts’s own devising. Barts’s earnest and heartfelt desire was to create a new style of tying a neckcloth, one that would equal or surpass all others, and which he would have the satisfaction of naming. Their visit to the country had allowed him the opportunity to experiment without having to expose his creations to the criticisms of the polite world, and he had indulged himself upon every occasion when Gabriel did not balk at the lengthy procedure. Today Gabriel had given him free rein, intent only on passing the time until he could reasonably call on Thea.

Therefore it was almost noon when he made his way downstairs, and he found that his friends had already started imbibing their holiday cheer. He was immediately bombarded with questions about what had happened the other night when Miss Bainbridge had appeared in the middle of the night, forcefully pounding on the front door. Alan and Myles, having been absent during the scene itself, had heard about it in great detail the next day, and all of them, it seemed, had spent Christmas Eve speculating on what had happened to Gabriel.

Out of politeness, he delayed telling his story until Emily joined them, which had the practical benefit of allowing him to mentally tailor his story to expunge all mention of Thea’s having accompanied him on the rescue of the baby. He regaled them with the tale over their Christmas dinner, describing everything from the visit to Rawdon at the inn down to his fight with the abductor.

“So you didn’t recognize the chap?” Myles asked, frowning.

“No, though I would not guarantee that I haven’t seen him before. He was wearing a hat and scarf wrapped round it to keep it on, and he had the scarf around most of his lower face as well. It was bloo—excuse me, Emily—it was black as pitch out there, too. I couldn’t get a good look at him.”

“But what did you do then?” Alan paused in cutting his meat. “I mean, where did you go after you found him?”

“We stayed in the cottage where I found the kidnapper. He had it well stocked.”

“You mean, you and the baby alone?” Alan goggled at him. “What did you do with it?”

“The baby? I took care of him, what else could I do? We slept, mostly.”

Alan shook his head, seemingly more impressed by the thought that Gabriel had managed to handle a baby for a day than he had been by Gabriel’s chase through the snowstorm after the abductor.

“Well, at least you know now that Alec was not involved,” Myles offered, pushing away his plate and taking a sip of wine.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Ian protested. “Rawdon could have hired this chap to steal the baby. That way he could whisk it away while establishing an alibi for himself at the inn.”

“Really, Ian, that’s a trifle convoluted, isn’t it?” Myles replied. “How could he have been certain that Gabe would discover the baby missing and come storming over there in the middle of the night to find Alec all snug and safe in his bed? Gabriel only knew the child was missing because Miss Bainbridge awoke and came over here. Rawdon could scarcely count on that happening. The odds would be that Gabriel would not accuse him of kidnapping Matthew until long after it happened, and how could he have proved that he’d been there all night?”

“Perhaps he could not prove it, but he would be there, clearly without the baby, and that would establish his innocence.”

“You mean to say he planned this and hired a man to steal the child all in the few hours after he came to the Priory—and in a village where he knew no one?” Myles scoffed.

“Perhaps he had it all planned before he came and that is why he came here to begin with.”

Gabriel stiffened. “You’re right. I had forgotten all about that in the excitement.”

“You think he stole the baby?” Myles asked. “I thought you just said—”

“No. I don’t believe he kidnapped Matthew. Or arranged it, either. I think he was probably telling the truth about that. He was right in saying that he could take Matthew away from me in court if he wanted, and he would be bloody minded enough to do it despite all the scandal that would ensue. But there must be some reason why Rawdon came here. He wouldn’t just drop in to the Priory to say hello. I meant to discover the reason if I could, but the abduction drove it out of my head.”

“What do you mean?” Alan asked. “He came here because of the baby. He must have heard that the lad was here.”

“How would he have known?” Gabriel pointed out, and they all swung their heads toward Myles.

He made a face. “Why are you looking at me? I didn’t tell him.”

“Even if Myles had written to him, there wouldn’t have been enough time for Rawdon to get the letter and come here,” Gabriel said. “The baby hasn’t been in Chesley that long.”

“Besides,” Myles pointed out. “I don’t think Alec knew about Matthew. He was completely taken by surprise when he heard the boy was Jocelyn’s.”

“But that is just it.” Emily’s words took everyone by surprise, as she had been silent throughout the whole exchange, and all the men turned to look at her. She looked somewhat taken aback at the attention, but she lifted her chin a fraction and went on, “We don’t really know that this child is Jocelyn’s. The only ‘proof’ you have is a piece of jewelry that anyone could have pinned to his clothes. I, for one, don’t believe it. I did not know your sister very well, Gabriel, but I found her to be a good, sweet girl. She was not the type to, well, you know …” Emily trailed off, looking flustered.

“Quite right, my dear,” her husband agreed. “We are making a rather large assumption. That baby could belong to anyone. It is my belief that someone is playing a trick on you, Gabriel. This boy is doubtless some lowborn child. His mother got hold of that brooch somehow and left it with him where you would hear about it. Obviously she hoped that you would react precisely as you did—assume the baby was your sister’s and take him in.”