Never Land the First Fish

Chapter Twenty-Three, Part 1

Gills paced a third time past the door to the study Coventon had taken for his own during their stay. At the end of the hall, one of the many guards watched him. There were so many, Gills had grown used to them. Not Julia, who said, every time one popped up unexpectedly, "It takes a year from my life when they do that." Not one of the guards was remotely friendly. If they'd been hand-picked by Piero d'Alvieri himself, Gills wouldn't be surprised.

Tonight, however, he had larger problems than living under house arrest. Tonight, he must have it out with his brother. They'd had the discussion of his trust, and they'd made their peace over Gills' time living on the good graces of the women in his life. Gills had proven himself, in his brother's eyes—so he said—the day Gills handled the "situation" with Sally Grenford the week of Coventon's wedding. Gills had offered himself up for the honor of the lady and upheld the honor of his family.

But Gills had not had to ask his elder brother anything of such import since he was fifteen and asked how to woo women.

Gills had every right. It was only that as soon as Gills made his request, Coventon was certain to lecture and fuss and be generally overbearing. It came with the marquessate, it seemed, as he hadn't used to be such a fussbudget before he ascended to the title. Suddenly, as soon as Coventon took it upon himself to restore the family name, Gills' adventures with women had become "dissolute" instead of amusing. His allowance being cut off was why he had turned to gifts from older women, which Coventon despised even more.

"Will you stop pacing out there and come in, Gills?" His brother's disembodied voice came through the door to the study. Gills hadn't realized he'd been stomping, but he must have been. Or Coventon's hearing was as sharp as the rest of him. He opened the door and stepped into the study. It was a rather generic room, like the rest of the estate, as though it were waiting to be decorated.

"How did you know it was me?"

"You are the only one who paces like that. You used to do it with Father, too. Have you done something to warrant the worry? Something more than killing a man with your bare hands, I mean?" After a pause, his brother added, "You haven't lost your trust in a card game with Lady Julia?"

"No, no, nothing like that." On reflection, though, "Well, perhaps a little bit like that."

Coventon queried Gills with his eyebrows arching over the spectacles he wore to read.

"You see... I think that... I... I mean to marry Lady Julia."

Coventon sat back and steepled his fingers. "You needn't marry money, Gills. Mama left you more than enough."

Gills frowned. "You sell her short, Coventon. I wish to marry her for herself, because I love her."

His eyes wide, Coventon just said, "I see." Clearing his throat, he asked, "Pardon me if I misremember, but is she not Little Lady Julia Marloughe, whose dress you were punished for muddying when you were naught but seven or eight?"

Gills felt the heat flush his cheeks, and the smug look on Coventon's face told him he didn't have to answer. "I've come to ask for Mama's emerald ring."

Coventon sat forward and shut the lid of his inkwell. "Gill, are you... Lady Athol? She is not... I mean, she is lovely..." Coventon trailed off, at a loss. Finally, he said, "I... I suppose... it was left for you."

"Excellent!" Gills grinned. "She'll grow on you, Coventon. She's... different without Athol."

Coventon grimaced. "Yes, I imagine she would be. I shall give her a chance and beg my wife to do the same, though I cannot guarantee she will agree. She only barely agreed to remain here with the two of you, and I will be repaying the favor for months."