Page 135 of A Much Maligned Miss

“Sell it?” She looked up quickly at that. “Oh but—”

“Oh, but what?”

“Well…” She hesitated. “Would you not find it convenient to have a country residence so near to your closest friend’s estate?”

Gervaise shrugged. “We would always be assured of a welcome at Vance if we wished to travel into Cornwall.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true,” she agreed, then paused. “Of course, there is also Edgar to take into consideration.”

“Needham?” He frowned. “What the devil does it have to do with him?”

“Well, it is the only home he has ever known, Gervaise,” she said reproachfully. “It would not seem right for me to fling him out of doors.”

“That is palpably untrue, my darling. Did you not tell me that he has been living and studying in Exeter for the past couple of years?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then he can return there forthwith. Him and his poisonous wife. They can live with her mother in Exeter. Why should Diana Hipworth get to play lady of the manor? It is your house. You owe them nothing.”

“Poisonous?” Her eyes widened. “Oh no, Gervaise, that was simply what Mama claimed, and as you know she was a consummate liar. I am quite convinced that Diana did nothing to deserve her enmity and so I told my brother.”

“Defended her, did you?” he asked with displeasure. “Well, you are a far better person than I.”

She turned a concerned look on him. “But why have you taken such an unaccountable dislike to Diana?”

“I have long detested her,” he said roundly. “Her and that Cynthia Jarrow both. I have no time for either one of them.”

She was clearly taken aback by his vehemence on the matter. In truth, he was a little surprised himself, but he was just realizing he felt unaccountably strongly on the subject. His poor Caroline had longed for companionship, and they had dangled it before her and then snatched it away. He would not forgive them for such cruelty.

“But Gervaise—”

“They are wholly undeserving of your friendship, Caroline,” he said testily. “And I do not mean to let them wheedle their way back into your good graces now. When I think of how they turned on you, having first known you…” he seethed, then shook his head. “If I had my way,” he said with slow deliberation, “we would not go to the Continent or remain here in London.

“Instead, we would travel down to Benham Hall and really take our time bringing your old neighborhood to its knees. We would make it known far and wide how you suffered and how close you came to—” He could not quite bring himself to finish the sentence. Instead he closed his eyes until he was calm again before continuing coolly. “They all need to grovel on their knees for your forgiveness, and I for one would dearly like to bring it about.”

“Gervaise!” she whispered. “Would you really?”

“I would,” he said darkly. “I would have them all writhing with embarrassment and shame, shaking my head and marveling all the while that none of them could see the truth of the matter. The truth which I saw within minutes of meeting you and your evil bitch of a mother. I would start with that wretched Ryland woman,” he said thoughtfully. “And go on from there.”

She did not speak for a few heartbeats, then she parted her lips. “I do believe you would,” she said softly.

“You should believe it. I would make exquisite work of it, Caroline. They would be as souls in torment and yet I would accomplish it all with an outward appearance of the utmost civility.”

She met his gaze squarely, the color mounting in her cheeks. “I believe I should like to see it,” she confessed, biting her lip.

He slid his hand up to her waist, clasping her there. “You have only to unleash me,” he vowed, seeking her lips with his own. The kiss was gentle and slow, but by the time Gervaise drew back, his blood was pounding in his ears.

“If we…if we did go down to Benham,” she ventured, “we could perhaps invite your uncle George down to visit with us and show us his support.”

Gervaise, who was watching the rise and fall of the ruffles obscuring her bosom, struggled a moment to make sense of her words. “He would probably enjoy that,” he admitted, resisting the impulse to slide his hand up the front of her velvet dressing gown. Instead, he inched closer to her, insinuating his arm between her neck and the pillows.

“Do you think it will take long for him to be reconciled to our marriage?” she asked so sincerely he could have laughed.

“No,” he said abruptly. “He will love the fact you’re an heiress, and let us be frank, you will make him a far better niece than I ever did a nephew. I expect you will be his favorite within a week of knowing you. He finds Cousin Louisa abrasive, and me infuriatingly arrogant. You will be like a breath of fresh air in his stale bachelor life.”

“I almost look forward to having a fond uncle,” she said so openly that he felt a pang somewhere in the region of his chest. His poor, deprived Caroline.

“I will gladly share my buffoon of an uncle with you,” he whispered, hanging over her. “I will make you a present of him.” He was kissing her again. Bestowing the gentlest of kisses, for he had vowed to himself that he would be nothing but adoring toward her all night. She deserved careful handling after her ordeal and to feel cherished, nothing more, nothing less.