Page 60 of Married to a Scandalous Spinster
Warily, Gemma nodded for her grandmother to continue.
“At the bar, they struck up a conversation, and apparently seemed to regain a little of the old affection and trust they had had for one another. Lord Tarver claimed your father was in good spirits and showed no signs of inebriation.” The Dowager Marchioness smiled wryly. “I suppose he must have caught him early on in the night.”
“Grandmother!” Gemma scolded.
“I am sorry.” The Dowager Marchioness knotted her bony fingers together as she continued. “That evening, the Marquess had just come from the jewelers. He had bought his wife a diamond brooch for their wedding anniversary. Rather foolishly, he believes now, he showed it to your father. The following night, the Marquess's safe was broken into. The diamond brooch was taken, along with the money. Lord Tarver believes it far too much of a coincidence that the theft occurred the night after he showed the brooch to your father.”
Gemma shook her head emphatically. “No. No, I do not believe it. Father wouldneverdo such a thing!” She stood up and began to pace. No doubt some of the people in attendance tonight had heard these rumors. Was that what they were thinking about while she was greeting them, welcoming them to her home? Her thief of a father? She felt like an utter fool, the weight of shame pressing down on her shoulders.
She sank back onto the settle. “I do not believe it,” she said again. “Not for a second. I know Father is… many things. But he is not a thief. I am sure of it. Underneath all his drinking and gambling, he is a good man. I know he is.” She bounced her knees up and down edgily. “Besides, my husband has been giving him money. He would have no need to steal.” She looked fiercely at her grandmother, daring her to object. A part of her feared that this was what the Dowager Marchioness had been waiting for allalong—a chance to condemn Mark Caster for good. But to her surprise, her grandmother nodded faintly.
“I agree with you, my dear. It is hardly a secret that I am no great admirer of your father's. But I know he is not a criminal. Even he would not stoop so low as to break into a safe like a common thief.”
Gemma was so taken aback by her grandmother's words that she threw her arms around her, squeezing her tightly. The Dowager Marchioness held her wordlessly for a few moments, then gently eased her back to her side of the settle. “I told as much to Lord Tarver,” she said. “I begged him to keep his suspicions to himself. He admitted that the press had already caught word of them. But he said nothing to them about the brooch.”
“At least that is something.” Gemma let out a long breath and rubbed her eyes. Too late, she remembered that Ivy had painstakingly lined her lids in charcoal. Her fingers came away smeared in black, but she could not find the will to care. “If the press heard that the Marquess showed the brooch to Father, they would crucify him.”
The Dowager Marchioness nodded. She took Gemma's hands in hers. “I'm afraid it gets worse,” she mumbled.
Gemma closed her eyes.Worse than this?She was not sure she could handle much more.
“Two of the men your father owes money to came to the door this evening,” her grandmother told her.” They had heard the rumors about his involvement in the theft, and they demanded immediate repayment of the sums owed to them. When the Earl was unable to produce the money, they told him he had until the morning to do so.”
Gemma swallowed the lump in her throat. “Who are these men?”
“I did not dare ask,” the Dowager Marchioness admitted. “I fear to think of the kind of men your father associates with around the gambling tables. I have little doubt they are acting outside the law. But I am very worried for your father, Gemma. And your sisters. I know the Earl has no way of producing the money to pay these men in such a short time. And I am afraid of what they will do when they turn up at the house tomorrow evening.” She sighed. “At best, they will take everything left of value in Volk House. At worst…”
She faded out. Gemma was glad of it. She had no need for her grandmother to paint a picture of the worst-case scenario. Her thoughts were whirring quickly enough as it was.
“After the men left, your father collapsed and we sent for the physician. It seems the stress of all this was too much for him.”
Gemma's heart ached. “I need to see him.”
“Not yet,” said her grandmother firmly. “I will take you back to Volk House with me later tonight, once the ball is over. But for now, I need you to speak with your husband.” Her voice was pleading. “He is a powerful man. If anyone has the influence to clear your father's name, it is him.” The Dowager Marchioness magicked a handkerchief from somewhere within the folds of her gown and began to dab at the smeared makeup beneath Gemma's eyes. “I know I do not need to tell you how important this is for your sisters. Poor Veronica's dance card is virtually empty tonight. It should not be that way. She is a beautiful person, both inside and out. Not to mention the sister of a duchess. And as for poor Jane, well… She deserves far more than to?—”
“I know, Grandmother.” Gemma cut her off, sensing the Dowager Marchioness veering towards another tirade aimed at the Earl. “I will speak to the Duke at once. He will know what to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
When Gemma returned to the ballroom, the string orchestra was in full swing, the dance floor a chaos of color and movement. The sight seemed to blur in front of her eyes. Her heart was still thumping hard against her ribs, and a headache was beginning to pulse behind her forehead.
She scanned the crowd, desperately seeking her husband. More than anything, she wanted to sink into his arms, and have him tell her everything would be all right.
We will fix this. Everything will be fine. All I have to do is find Wyatt.
She spied him over by the buffet table, a glass of whisky in one hand. She hurried through the crowd towards him with barely a thought for decorum. Wyatt's eyes pulled towards her. He strode out to meet her.
“What has happened?” he murmured. “I've been looking for you. Is it your father? I did not see him enter with Lady Hilt and your sister.”
“I need to speak with you,” Gemma told him. “Alone.”
Wyatt nodded. Without a word of question, he set his glass down on the nearest table and guided her out of the ballroom, a firm hand to the small of her back. He led her into the library and locked the door behind them. At once, the music and laughter of the party became muted.
Gemma rushed to her husband and sank against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. At the feel of his body against hers, here in this room filled with so many memories of him, a little of the tension began to drain out of her.
Wyatt pressed his broad palm against her upper back and kissed her hair. “Tell me what has happened.”
Gemma let out her breath, stepping out of his embrace and lacing both her hands around one of his. “Father has taken ill,” she said. “He has been banned from the gentlemen's clubs after the incident at White's. But someone has been spreading even worse rumors about him. The press reported that he has stolen from Lord Tarver, his former business partner. And now the men he owes money to have been at his door, making threats.” Her voice wavered. “The stress of it was too much for him. Grandmother says he has taken to his bed and the physician has been called.”
