Page 53 of Irresistible
“Long enough to get to know my brother and his wife fairly well, then. I daresay you could do that after one night,” he added with a chuckle before lighting a cheroot.
Dougal smiled before sipping his wine. “He’s quite forthcoming. He seems to be somewhat enamored of French language and French things.”
Sylvester rolled his brown eyes. He leaned toward Dougal. “He’s rather obsessed, if you must know. Our great-grandmother was French. She eloped with a young student to England, and Gil likes to say she met Voltaire on several occasions before that.”
“He mentioned that,” Dougal said. “It’s not true?”
“It’s as true as me having met the Prince Regent.” He took a puff on his cheroot. “I have not.”
“I see. Well, there’s no harm in a little embellishment, is there?” Dougal asked with a smile. “I did wonder how he managed to obtain a gun fashioned after one in Napoleon’s private collection.”
Sylvester smirked. “Another fantastical imagining. The gun was manufactured here, and it’s supposedly similar to one Napoleon owns, but how on earth would my brother know that for certain?”
He might if he were a spy.
But what if he was only a French-obsessed gentleman with a penchant for exaggeration? Except, why the mysterious behavior around the procurement of the pistol? Or was that because he was trying to disguise the gun’s true provenance? He wanted Dougal to think it was French and not just an English-made copy.
“Do you visit often?” Dougal asked.
“This is my second trip since Gil purchased the property. He spent every last shilling he had on securing it, insisting it was vital to the health and welfare of his marriage. Apparently, he and Mary require privacy and the brisk sea air. And to be closer to France, but not actuallyinit,” he added the last in a low, wry tone.
“It is a lovely home. My wife and I are considering looking for property nearby.”
“And where is it you call home?”
“Llanedeyrn, near Cardiff,” Dougal responded smoothly.
“You’ve got the sea over there too. Why not look on the Gower Peninsula? That’s a beautiful location.”
Dougal nodded. “It is.” Or so he’d heard. He’d never been.
“Unless you’d prefer to be closer to France too?” Sylvester seemed to ask sincerely, but then he erupted into laughter. “Only jesting.”
It wasn’t clear to Dougal whether Sylvester making fun at Gil’s expense or simply making light of an eccentric brother. Either way, Dougal decided he liked Gil better, despite quirks, potential treason, and even the way he’d behaved with Jess while shooting. Dougal recognized he’d been jealous, which was silly given how devoted Gil was to his wife. In fact, it was the man’s demonstrativeness that prompted Dougal’s appreciation. In some ways, it reminded him of his father. He’d always been open with his love of his children. Dougal wondered if he could be like that. Or if he wanted to.
Returning his thoughts to the current situation, Dougal was grateful for the opportunity to glean information from Gil’s brother. To that end, it was time to see who else would share what they knew of the Chesmores.
Dougal finished his port and rose. “I think I’m ready to join the ladies.” That way, he could also relieve Jess. He knew she was desperate to get upstairs, and he wouldn’t delay her work any longer.
“Capital idea,” Gil said, smacking his palm on the arm of his chair at the head of the table. He tossed back the remainder of his port and stood, then he led them all to the drawing room.
The ladies were mostly seated. Only Jess and one of the neighbors—Dougal believed it was Mrs. Woolford from Bournemouth—were standing. Dougal suspected Jess couldn’t bear to sit when she was ready to flee, and Mrs. Woolford was probably just being kind and keeping her company.
Dougal moved to join them, arriving just before Mr. Woolford. A tall, angular gentleman with a receding hairline, he inclined his head at Dougal before standing next to his wife.
Sidling next to Jess, Dougal asked about her headache. She gave him such a grateful look that he nearly kissed her forehead.
“My goodness, you’ve a headache?” Mrs. Woolford, who was perhaps a few years older than Dougal, asked.
“It was slight, but it’s increased throughout the evening. I’m afraid I must retire. I’m so sorry to miss the rest of the party.” She put her hand on Dougal’s arm. “You must stay and enjoy yourself.”
“I’ll just walk you upstairs and return.” He nodded toward the Woolfords, then escorted Jess from the drawing room.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she said with an almost amusing level of relief.
“I could tell you were rather, ah, eager to return to your work.”
Her brow creased. “I hope it wasn’t obvious to everyone.”
