Cuffe smiled. "That will be easy."
"Good, because I might have a difficult time convincing the viscount to accept me as his new brother."
* * *
Entering Baronsford's downstairs library, Jo was taken aback to find her father, the Earl of Aytoun, loudly chastising her younger sister Phoebe. It had been some time since she'd seen the two of them so agitated with one another.
"This is too much, young lady. This bruise on your face," he roared. "If you were a man, I'd say someone punched you in the eye."
"I've told you time and time again. I ran into a door, Father. A door." Phoebe threw up her hands in obvious frustration. "Why don't you believe me when I tell you I have my life under control?"
Of all the five children Lyon and Millicent raised, Phoebe was the one most like their father in temperament. "Explosive" was the way Jo's mother put it.
"Under control?" The earl kept up his harangue. "You come and go as you please. You ignore family obligations. Your mother and I have no idea where you are, who you keep company with-"
"I'm here for my sister's wedding, aren't I? Days before the event." Seeing Jo, she turned to her. "Save me from him. Will you, my love?"
Jo cringed at the bluish-black mark beneath the young woman's eye. Phoebe crossed the room and gave her a warm hug, whispering in her ear, "I need to steal Anna for an hour. There's no one better for hiding ghastly bruises."
Before Jo could start her own interrogation, Phoebe ran from the room.
"I've already told Millicent," the earl said, stretching a hand toward Jo to come and sit by him. "We are hiring a Bow Street Runner to follow her. Your sister is up to mischief again. I know it."
She didn't doubt it. Phoebe was the writer, the adventurer. Growing up, they'd always thought her head was in the clouds, that she was safe in her imaginative world. But lately, Jo had begun to find subtle clues that hinted of a hidden life. Men's clothing stuffed into a corner of her sister's wardrobe. Copied ships' manifests on scraps of paper in a desk drawer. The hilt of a dagger with only an inch of broken blade. And now this black eye today. When confronted, Phoebe simply laughed off Jo's concerns, telling her they were props for dramatic presentations of her plays at an upcoming house party. And Phoebe's confidante, their youngest sister, Millie, stayed silent and tight-lipped in the face of all Jo's questions.
"A Runner might be a good thing," Jo said, taking a seat next to him on the sofa. "But she'll be angry if she finds out."
"I can live with her being angry, as long as she's safe. Each of you is too precious to us."
Each of you. The stress he put on the words, the way he looked at her as he said them, wasn't lost on Jo. The Penningtons knew about the family connections Jo had found in the Highlands. The earl also knew that Charles Barton had walked her to the church to marry Wynne at Rayneford.
"I know. And I hope you know you're still my father. The father who raised me, prized me, appreciated me, and made certain I've wanted for nothing my whole life. The father who taught me the values I have today," she said, taking his hand and bringing it to her lips. "I'll adore you and love you and cherish you to the day I die."
"I needed to hear that," he said, drawing her into a bear hug. "I was ready to call out Charles Barton and duel with him over you. After all, I've loved you longest and by far the most deeply."
She smiled and stabbed away a runaway tear as Jo's mother hurried into the room.
"What are you doing, making my daughter cry?" Millicent scolded her husband.
Without waiting for a response, she crossed to the windows and peered out into the gardens.
"I can't see them, but it's taking far too long. They didn't take their pistols out there, did they?"
* * *
As Lord Justice, Hugh Pennington used his study at Baronsford as his local seat of power. In no way was Wynne planning on groveling before the man, and he demurred at the suggestion of meeting in a room where he would be at a disadvantage.
The viscount's peculiar suggestion of taking a balloon ride while they resolved their past was out of the question too. He didn't trust the man not to throw him out of the basket. And if events turned out otherwise, Wynne wouldn't know how to land the contraption himself.
He had no desire to fly to the moon before this wedding took place.
Walking with Hugh in the gardens was not exactly the manly setting he envisioned for this conversation, but it was the only option acceptable to both Jo and Grace. Neither woman trusted them out of sight of the rest of the family. Both men, smart enough to recognize the value of listening to their wives, accepted the suggestion.
The speech Wynne delivered was the same that he'd given to the Earl and Countess Aytoun.
The viscount listened to the words like a judge hearing final arguments before handing down a sentence.
"Today is exactly ten days before the wedding," he said finally, facing Wynne. "We can still meet at dawn. Say . . . the glen down by the lake?"
His reference to the date wasn't unintended. Wynne had ended his engagement to Jo ten days before their wedding, sixteen years ago. But he saw no humor in the suggestion of another duel.
"She won't receive any letter from me today. I am not breaking our engagement. I love Jo. And in case you've forgotten, we're already married," Wynne told him. "Regarding apologies, her acceptance of mine was the only one required. And she gave her forgiveness freely. She knows what my reasons were then and she shares my feelings now."
The viscount's gaze was steady, and Wynne met it without blinking.
"Does she also know, Melfort, that you meant to die that day? You shifted your aim away from me at the last moment. You had no intention of firing your weapon."
Wynne wasn't surprised that he'd noticed; Hugh Pennington was a cavalry officer then and a crack shot.
"And you could have easily buried your bullet in my heart," he replied. "But you didn't. You chose to spare my life."
Both men were as tall and as broad as the other. Both were secure and confident.
"I respected you for standing up for your sister's honor," Wynne told him. "One way or another, I was leaving her, and I wanted to make sure she had the protection of a good man."
Hugh considered this for a moment before speaking.
"It took me years before I finally came to a clear appreciation of what war and absence and death does to the one left behind," he said. "I understand you now."
Wynne knew Greysteil's first wife had taken their young son and traveled to war-torn Spain in the middle of winter to be with him. The mother and child had died of the camp fever while Hugh fought to get to them. Jo told Wynne that for many years, her brother lived his life with a death wish. Grace's arrival at Baronsford was the light that saved him.
"War takes too many innocent lives," Wynne said, extending his hand. "I'm sorry for your loss. I truly am."
A short time later, while they were discussing Jo's natural father and his road of recovery, Gregory Pennington and Cuffe came hurrying toward them. Wynne saw his son glance over his shoulder as if fearful of whatever was pursuing them.
"What's wrong?" he asked, drawing him to his side.
"I'm helping him hide from Ella," Gregory admitted.
Wynne had already met the six-year-old niece of Gregory's wife, Freya. With enough energy and noise to put a summer storm to shame, the child was a force to reckon with. This morning, upon their arrival, she'd immediately run to Cuffe, declaring that she liked him and asking if she could teach him to dance.
Freya, who was expecting their first child, had been reduced to stammering. Gregory, coloring deeply, had instantly set out to distract the child. From their reactions, Wynne had a suspicion that there was a great deal of confusion with regard to dancing that the couple had no desire to explain.
"What do you think?" Gregory asked Cuffe. "The stables, the kennels, or the lake?"
"Cuffe!" a little girl called from up near the house.
"The stables first," Cuffe said, taking off on a run. "You can show me the lake after."
Chapter 26
Seven Days Later
The note from Lady Nithsdale arrived as she had expected. Their neighbor would be calling this morning.
Jo asked Grace and her mother not to receive the woman, but rather to have a footman escort her ladyship up to her dressing room where a seamstress and Anna were putting the final touches on her wedding dress.