There was the crux of it. The reason why Gwenivere was so hostile to him, and honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He was about to apologize again when Giselle stood up to her twin. Quite literally. She straightened her spine, took two steps across the room, and squared off with her twin like a mother hen who had had enough.
“How long will you hold this grudge?” she challenged. “What happened between me and Lord Jonathan isourhistory, not yours. I shall decide what retribution to demand, if any.”
“You never do!”
“Then that is my choice, isn’t it? Damn it, Gwennie, it’s been ten years. All of us were different people. Me, him, even you.Now you have demanded a price from him for help, and he has agreed. So I, for one, will see the task done. If you want to go home, then you may. But I do not leave a task barely begun.”
He had never seen her stand up to her louder, more contentious twin. Certainly not like this. It showed exactly how much stronger she had grown over the last ten years. And to his shock, Gwenivere backed down. She dropped her gaze and gave a slow nod of agreement.
“You are right, of course. It is your right to decide his punishment.”
Giselle sighed. “I don’t think punishment works very well on anyone.”
“I know,” Gwenivere moaned. “Whereas I would much rather bash him over the head and be done with him.”
“I know,” Giselle echoed in the exact same tone of voice. Then she turned back to him. “I will stay the night. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“But I can’t!” Gwenivere said. “Not because I’m angry at you but because I promised to help Papa tonight. His eyesight isn’t as good as it once was.”
She didn’t elaborate on exactly what was needed, but Jonathan guessed that any number of things might require good eyes and a steady hand. Either way, he had no wish to keep Gwenivere close and several reasons to wish her gone.
“My carriage is at your disposal when you wish to depart.”
“Thank you.” Gwenivere looked like she wanted to choke on those two words, but she said them nonetheless. And he thought better of her for that.
“Then it’s settled,” Susanne said, clapping her hands. “Come along, Giselle. I think I have a gown that might serve.”
“A gown? Whatever for?”
That was what he wanted to know. He’d been looking forward to a quiet evening at home with her. He desperatelywanted to re-acquaint himself with her. Ten years was a long time and comparing her now to who she’d been as a teenager was a delightful experience. Though he’d loved her as a teenager, the woman before him was more attractive than ever before. She had a self-confidence that was appealing, not to mention a calm, graceful demeanor that fit his image of how an aristocratic woman ought to behave. Indeed, his own mother should take note.
The last thing he wanted was to dress and go out for some reason. “Susanne, there’s no reason—”
“It’s Belle’s come out ball,” she interrupted.
Oh damn. Belle was Susanne’s best friend from school, especially after Gwenivere’s family had left their parish. There was no way that his sister would miss the ball. And no way for him to duck out either. Susanne needed an escort, and his mother was not in the best frame of mind for that.
Indeed, having been stymied in her desire to see Father Bertran, she was currently sitting on the bench next to the front door as if she meant to depart but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Not with everyone else discussing things here.
“Of course,” he said, giving into the inevitable. “The ball. Go see if you have a gown that will fit. I will clean up in here.”
There was a moment’s hesitation as the twins looked at one another, silent messages passing between them. He could guess the meaning of those looks. After all, he’d known them for most of his childhood.
Giselle was reassuring her twin that she was able to manage everything. And Gwenivere was angrily reminding her twin not to fall under his spell. As if he could do anything to mesmerize the level-headed woman. He’d been the one bewitched as a teen, not the other way around.
Either way, the messages were passed in a blink of an eye. And then Gwenivere regretfully took her leave. She had to go now so the carriage could return in time for the ball.
And then, just as Gwenivere stepped outside, his mother heaved a heavy sigh and headed upstairs. With no carriage, she couldn’t go plead “ghost” to Father Bertran. Which left him alone in the library to set everything back to rights because not a single servant was around for him to command to help.
They feared the ghost, obviously. As did he, truth be told. But with Giselle here, he didn’t feel so much at sea. She would help him face down this otherworldly creature, he told himself. And if it really was the ghost of his dead father, then he would show her that he was a changed man. No longer a teenager who cowered in the face of his father’s rage. He was a grown man, and not one who would bow to something he knew was wrong.
Even if that thing was a ghost who could quite literally throw the contents of a room at his head.
Chapter Seven
Thank goodness Gisellewas good with needle and thread. There was precious little time to adjust a gown before a society ball, so she quickly set to work. Susanne swore it was an old cast-off gown that she wouldn’t have worn anyway, but to Giselle, it was by far the most luxurious gown she’d ever worn.
Rich rose silk shot with silver trim, the gown was too bright for Susanne to wear just out of mourning. But it perfectly suited Giselle after an extra flounce was added to account for her larger height. And the quick needlework kept her mind off the truth of tonight.
