Even Giff looked stunned by this.
Delia stared at her aunt. “You know he is?”
“Of course I don’t. Never set eyes on the fellow in my life until yesterday.” The irascible note was marked, but Aunt Gertrude’s implacable gaze remained upon Giff.
His brows drew together. “You believe me then, Lady Matterson?”
“I’ve no reason not to. And if Piers Gaunt has hired men to silence you, by whatever means, it rather suggests he believes it too.”
Here the Reverend Gaunt cut in. “It turns out, my dear boy, that her ladyship knows a great deal about the whole affair. Which, I may say, does not greatly surprise me, since you’ve told me how many years you’ve been coming to Weymouth, ma’am.” He turned to Lady Matterson as he spoke, bowing his silver head. “The matter caused a deal of talk at the time.”
“But I’ve no proof, sir, as you well know.” Impatience sounded in Giff’s voice. “It’s very well to say Piers knows the truth, ma’am, but without means of proof to oust him, I can’t do other than confront the man in person.”
A snort escaped Aunt Gertrude. “To what purpose, sir? Are you proposing to settle the matter with a duel?”
Delia could no longer remain silent. “I thought it a ridiculous notion too, Aunt. But there’s no doing anything with Giff when he’s got a bee in his bonnet.”
“You can talk! I never met such a persistent wench. Nor such a bossy one neither.”
“Oh, be quiet! If I’d done as you told me, you’d have bled to death!”
“Children, children! Enough bickering, if you please.”
Lady Matterson’s chiding tones caught Delia in midstride. She’d forgotten where they were. And the trouble they were in. Or were they? So far her aunt had made nothing out of the adventure. Delia had been convinced she would be appalled by its scandalous nature.
All at once it occurred to her that Giff had thought the same. Was that what he’d meant by consequences?
“Your uncle speaks of letters written by, I believe, your stepfather?”
“Matthew Favell, ma’am, yes.”
Lady Matterson’s gaze remained on Giff’s face. “I remember that too. He ran away with Baunton’s wife.”
“My mother, ma’am.”
“What was her name?”
“Flora.”
His lips were compressed, and Delia’s heart sank as she noted the smoulder in his one good eye.
“I meant her maiden name. Was she not Saunderton’s daughter?”
Giff did not answer, and it was left to the rector to respond.
“That is correct, ma’am. Lord Saunderton did not approve Favell’s suit and Flora was given in matrimony to my nephew. He was not a forgiving man, I regret to say.”
“He knew of the liaison?”
“I imagine so. He was less surprised than angry and humiliated when Flora eloped. What he could not pardon was her taking his heir.”
“One can scarcely blame him.” A wry look entered Aunt Gertrude’s face at Giff’s fiery glance. “Yes, I am aware you have no wish to hear that, young man, but it is nevertheless true. A reprehensible act to have removed you. These things matter in our circle. Look how difficult she has made it for you to establish your claim to the earldom.”
“My mother is not to blame for that.” The snap in Giff’s tone was marked. Delia thought she read pain there too. “The earl might have recovered me, had he wished to do so. Instead, he led Piers to believe he might inherit, if he did not precisely groom him to take the reins.”
“Impossible! You know nothing of your heritage if you believe that.”
Giff’s one-eyed gaze became intent. “What precisely does that mean, ma’am?”