“Disappointed? Angered? I do understand, my dear boy, how dismissive it sounds.”
Rather to Delia’s surprise, Giff did not take this up. She saw his chest rise and fall and his jaw tightened. But the expected explosion did not come. He addressed Hammersley instead.
“Yet, as you are no doubt aware, my father did not send for me as my stepfather, Matthew Favell, expected he would. Now it appears he knew from the letter I might come anyway. Yet you made no attempt to locate me, Hammersley.”
“On the contrary, my lord, I made every attempt. And, ah, failed miserably. I had no knowledge of your whereabouts. If his late lordship, or, ah, even Lord Saunderton, had seen fit to open their lips upon the matter, I should never have supported the attempt of Mr Piers Gaunt to try for the title.”
“Except that you knew my father wished him to take it all, if I could not be found. The ‘boy’ you speak of in his last words to you is Piers, I take it?”
“That is so, my lord.”
“While I was ‘the cub’.”
“Indeed. I, ah, took it in that light, my lord, knowing of the bond his late lordship had formed with Mr Piers Gaunt.”
“Bond! Yes, I know all about that, I thank you. He admits he ran tame here and says my father taught him as he would have taught me had I been present.”
Indignation overtook Delia. “How horrid of him! When he could easily have sent for you. Do you suppose he wanted Piers to inherit?”
Giff’s lips compressed and he did not answer. Was there something more he did not wish to divulge? She recalled him saying he wanted to consult her. Was it about this?
Before she could think of it further, the rector moved to Giff, setting a hand to his shoulder. “What is in your mind, Giffard? Tarporley here says you have not determined what you wish to do. But surely this must change things?”
Giff seemed to drop a little of his guarded abstraction. “Yes, I dare say. But whatever I decide, I am still left with the problem of my — cousin.”
Catching the hesitation, Delia wondered at it. But her indignation at Piers overtook the thought. “Do with him? By rights, he should be in prison instead of lying in state in your house. You don’t know the worst of what the wretched creature did, Giff.”
His brows drew together in a troubled look that increased the niggle engendered by his previous utterance. “Trying to have me removed is not enough?”
“Nothing is enough for him, Giff. When your grandfather took him to task for taking your place here, Piers told him you were dead. He said he’d heard it for a fact from a contact in India.”
“But Hammersley here claims not to know where I was.”
“Piers knew.” The rector’s tone was grim. “I imagine he’d seen the letters Favell sent to Henry, whether by design or no. He must also have known they were in Saunderton’s possession, so he had to fashion a lie to silence your grandfather’s objections.”
“You see, Giff? He’s ruthless and deserves no clemency whatsoever.”
But to her consternation, Giff’s brooding look persisted. She longed to demand enlightenment, yet hesitated since he said nothing himself.
“This is a day of triumphs, Giffard,” came from Lord Tarporley, who moved in to clap Giff on the back. “What with the portrait the housekeeper showed you, and now this, there can be no doubt of your rights to be master here.”
“Portrait?” Delia’s glance went back to Giff. “What portrait?”
“Of my mother holding me as a babe. Mrs Joyce kept it when my father ordered all her portraits burnt.”
“Burnt? Oh, he must have been as crazy as that dreadful Lord Saunderton!”
“Crazy with rage, Delia, my dear, but Henry sobered soon enough,” soothed the Reverend Gaunt. “I should like to see it, Giffard, if I may. Of all people, I must recognise both faces.”
Giff seemed to shake off his abstraction. “Rhoades, you are nearest the bell-pull. Will you ring?”
The captain moved to comply, but his gaze went to Lord Tarporley. “Do you suppose you and I should repair to your house while it is still light?” He threw a glance at the window. “I confess I’ve no mind to ride back to Weymouth through the night hours.”
“Indeed, yes. We cannot expect Mrs Joyce to accommodate so many. Perhaps you would partake of my hospitality, Hammersley?”
The lawyer accepted Lord Tarporley’s offer with alacrity. “I thank you, my lord. I must have speech with both gentlemen, but since Mr Piers Gaunt is indisposed, I dare say the interview had best be postponed until tomorrow.”
Delia withdrew her attention from the ensuing discussion of who would go or stay and how they would get to the neighbouring estate as the exigencies of her position leapt to mind. She sank into a chair, recalling her great-aunt’s dictum that she take a change of linen with her. Delia could only be glad she had complied, but the fact remained she was in a house of males without the vestige of a chaperon.