Page 61 of Truly, Madly, Daring

Emmeline glanced back at her parents, who were studiously looking elsewhere, before pressing a swift kiss to his lips.

“Much better,” he said with a sigh, and carried on pouring the drinks.

By the time the cognac had gone, and refills had been supplied, the atmosphere had thawed considerably.

“I dislike the notion that your half-brother is lingering nearby, waiting for an opportunity to make trouble,” Papa said, his expression one with which Emmeline was familiar. It usually ended with setting boardrooms into uproar.

“No more than I, let me assure you,” Wrexham replied dryly. “But what is there to be done?”

“We draw him out,” Gabe said. “Arrange circumstances so he believes he has the perfect opportunity for mischief and let him hoist himself with his own petard.”

Wrexham sat up, alert. “I’m listening.”

Papa pulled a face. “Give me a chance, I’ve not had time to think of how to do it, only that we ought to. It’s always better to take control in these circumstances.”

“Piffle,” Mama said, laughing. “In your opinion it is always preferable to take control, no matter the circumstances.”

Papa shrugged. “Well, obviously, but only because most people don’t know their arse from their elbow.”

“Papa!” Emmeline exclaimed, not because she was shocked—Papa had ever been rather candid in his speech—but because Wrexham wasn’t used to him. Her husband was laughing, though, and she let out a breath of relief.

“I couldn’t agree more, Mr Knight, and as one who has of late found more difficulty than most in deciphering the two, I’d welcome your opinion.”

“Don’t give me that flannel,” her father said gruffly. “You’ve been dealt a harsh blow, and from what I can see, you’ve handled it admirably, despite everything your father has done to undermine you. You should be proud of yourself—eloping with my daughter notwithstanding—but all the same. Well done, lad.”

Wrexham grew very still, colour cresting his cheeks. It occurred to Emmeline in that moment that he had never had a father who had said such a thing to him, had never had a man he might look up to praise him for everything he had achieved. Her father, too, was not a man given to idle flattery and Wrexham knew it. The words had been sincere, and they had meant a great deal to her husband, who appeared to be struggling to reply.

“You are quite correct, he has done admirably, Papa, but honestly, you don’t know the half of it,” she said quickly, giving Wrexham a moment to bring himself back under control.

“You’re happy,” Mama said, her eyes shining, for she too had understood the impact of Papa’s words.

Emmeline nodded. “Terribly,” she replied with a smile.

Papa met her eyes, and his expression softened. “I couldn’t have settled for anything less,” he said. “But whilst I am reassured that this is not the disastrous decision I had feared, there is a question that I must ask you, Wrexham.”

“Gabe,” Mama said, an unmistakable warning note to her voice.

Wrexham shook his head. “No, my lady. I don’t wish to hide anything. Ask your question, Mr Knight.”

“I have never been one to pay much mind to society gossip, mostly because half of it is usually tattling about me or one of my daughters,” he said wryly. “But nonetheless, you know as well as I of the tales that are circulating about you. What can you tell me?”

“Nothing to contradict them,” Wrexham said, his tone clipped. “I wish I could.”

Before she could think better of it, Emmeline sprang to her feet, her temper getting the better of her. “Well, I can contradict them! I have not seen the least sign to suggest you are anything less than sane. Bearing in mind all the information about your uncle came to you via your father, who has done all in his power to undermine and harm you, I should say we need a far less biased opinion.”

“That’s my girl,” Papa said, his expression at once both admiring and amused.

Emmeline blushed and busied herself with smoothing down her skirts. “Well,” she said, rather embarrassed if pleased by her father’s praise. “I just think it bears a good deal more investigation.”

“Agreed,” Papa said. “And I believe I know just the man to ask.”

Chapter 17

Inigo,

You mentioned recently a doctor running an asylum of the sort you had never previously encountered, who’d had remarkable success dealing with insanity and unstable patients.

I urgently need your help in a matter that must remain entirely confidential. Please come to Cawston Hall, Norfolk, as quickly as you are able, and bring the doctor with you. I would also appreciate any and all information regarding the Duke of Sefton’s brother. The one who so notoriously lost his mind. It may have some bearing on the help I require of you and the good doctor would do well to acquaint himself with the case. You may also assure him I am prepared to compensate him generously for his time.