Page 77 of The Vagabond Viscount
A relieved Flynn didn’t quite know where to look. “Thank you, your grace. I wasn’t expecting whisky and kind words.”
Still smiling like the cat who had got the cream, Clifford Kembal dropped into the chair next to Flynn’s. When he met his gaze, the duke softly laughed. “If you had secretly married my daughter before you disappeared, you probably wouldn’t have received such a warm welcome. But this past year has taught me a lot of harsh lessons. Family is the most important thing for any of us, and something which I will never take for granted ever again.”
Flynn raised his glass to his lips. When Gideon had been in Rome, he had made mention of his father’s emotional response upon hearing the news that his wife wasn’t coming home. The duke had apparently been shattered. He had been unaware that the duchess was deeply unhappy and had made the decision to live apart from him.
If only his own father would welcome him with such warmth.
“Now, I expect you are thinking that I wish to discuss the payment of Augusta’s dowry. I do. But firstly, I think we need to come up with a plan to keep any and all of that money out of your father’s grubby hands. If Earl Bramshaw gets wind of this marriage, he will be on my doorstep within the hour.”
More relief flooded Flynn, who nodded his agreement. He was relieved because the Duke of Mowbray not only seemed to have the right measure of the earl, but that he was also firm in his intent of not handing over the dowry while there was even the remotest possibility of Flynn’s father being able to access it. Having a caring family made him feel less alone. The Duke of Mowbray was a powerful man; his support would carry weight within London society.
“We had thought to keep the news of our marriage a secret from everyone for as long as we could. Or at least until I returned home. Of course, it is now inevitable that people will find out. And that is a good thing. Augusta deserves to be recognized as my wife.”
His wife must have had her reasons for not waiting until his arrival to tell her family. He trusted Augusta, and her judgement.
“Agreed. My daughter does have the right to be known as Viscountess Cadnam, but I understand if the two of you decide not to use the courtesy titles. Have you given any thought as to what you might say to the earl when you see him?” asked Clifford.
A dry laugh escaped Flynn’s lips. There were a great many things he could say to his murderous sire. Few of which were fit to speak aloud. “I am going to go to Bramshaw House later today and retrieve what little possessions I own. Hopefully, the old swine hasn’t burned them. But as for Augusta and myself, I will make it plain to the earl that if he attempts to come near me and mine, I will let the authorities know what he did. That he stabbed me and then paid a group of strangers to toss me overboard from a ship far out to sea. The only reason why I am still alive is because those men had a change of heart in the middle of a storm.”
Before leaving Rome, Flynn had visited the Trevi Fountain and tossed a handful of coins into the water as payment to the god Oceanus. It was the ancient deity, whose statue graced the center of the ornate fountain, who the kidnappers had blamed for the mighty tempest which they had encountered in the Northern Atlantic. They had not been willing to further incur the god’s wrath by murdering a badly injured English nobleman.
Fear had saved him from a watery grave. It was also the weapon he intended to yield against his father. He might find it hard to get a charge of attempted murder to stick, but he doubted Earl Bramshaw would dare to risk having his son make such vile allegations against him.
He cleared his throat and steadied his nerves. “I have accepted paid employment with the de Luca Shipping Company here in London. I intend to provide for my wife and family as best as I can under the circumstances.”
The notion that those circumstances might go on for a good number of years wasn’t something he felt needed to be raised. The duke wasn’t a fool—he would understand that his eldest daughter may have to live a financially restrained life for some time to come.
A few minutes later, the door opened, and the Duchess of Mowbray appeared. She smiled sweetly at her husband, then turned to Flynn. “Viscount Cadnam. About time.”
Thoughts of a third stiff drink were dancing around Flynn’s mind when the door opened once more and through it rushed Augusta. Gideon tracked in her wake, closing the door behind him.
Flynn and his wife took one look at each other, and all thoughts of playing this reunion cool went straight out the window. Augusta leaped into his arms, and Flynn wrapped her up in his embrace. “Augusta, my love. I have missed you.”
She kissed him. Considering their audience, Flynn tried to make the kiss as chaste as possible, but it quickly became apparent that Augusta wasn’t having any of it. His wife wanted his kiss, and she wouldn’t take anything less than a full, deep locking of lips. Flynn gave in and let Augusta have her way.
“When the two of you are done,” observed the duke.
Augusta eventually drew back from the kiss, but kept her arms wrapped about Flynn’s waist. She turned to face her parents. The duke and duchess exchanged a knowing look.
These two seem to have settled their differences, thank heavens.
“Mama and Papa know that we are married. As do your uncle and aunt. I didn’t think it fair to keep it from them. I’m sorry that goes against our agreed plans,” said Augusta.
Now he understood why the duke had handed him several glasses of whisky. He was about to be interrogated as to why he had married Lady Augusta and not told her family when they were in Rome.
“What about my father?” The horrid thought that the earl knew and was waiting for him somewhere in the shadows had Flynn wishing he hadn’t had that second drink.
Gideon cleared his throat. “Until today, few people outside of our family and that of your uncle knew for certain that you were, in fact, alive. Rumors have, of course, been circulating, but no one has given them any real credence. Especially since you have been missing for such a long time. Earl Bramshaw has remained silent on the subject.”
Flynn sighed with relief. There was still much to do about the earl, but at least he was now safely back in London, where he had friends and family to help protect him from his wicked sire. As soon as he left here, he would be delivering letters to his solicitor—ones which would only be opened if something untoward were to happen to him. Letters which implicated Earl Bramshaw in the attempted murder of his son.
I will protect Augusta from that villain.
He met the duke’s gaze. “I suppose it is a little late to be asking for your daughter’s hand in marriage, but I would ask for your blessing. I love Augusta, and I will give her the best life I can.”
He turned to Gideon. “I am sorry I lied to you in Rome. Augusta was under your protection, and it was a grave breach of trust for me to marry her without your knowledge or approval. We had our reasons, but again, I am sorry for the offense against you.”
Gideon slowly nodded. “I can’t say I was all that pleased when I heard that the pair of you had lied to not only me, but my wife and the duchess. Then again, at that time, I don’t think any of us were behaving in accordance with social expectations. You are home and with your wife, Flynn. That is all that matters.”
