The Suitable Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 2) (15 page)

Conversations started up all along the table. Some were continuations of those that began in the drawing room; others were newly begun simply because of the seating arrangements. Lord Davenport alone appeared to be unengaged in conversation. In fact, it appeared to Edward that his guests were deliberately avoiding his father-in-law.

Bewildered but unable to address the issue, Edward shifted his focus down the table and caught Frances’ eye. He raised his glass to her and nodded, his eyes expressing his appreciation for all her hard work. He was rewarded as her cheeks reddened slightly as she drank from her own glass.

Edward turned to his right and addressed the Member of Parliament for Grampound, Devon, the Right Honourable Mr John Teed. He knew little of the fellow apart from his connection with the Right Honourable Andrew Cochran-Johnstone. “Did you travel up from Devon this evening?” It was a limp question, but Edward had to begin the conversation somehow.

John Teed shook his head, his mouth full of food. “No.” He swallowed his overfilled mouthful of food down hard. “I've had the good fortune of being in London this past sennight.”

“Oh! On parliamentary business?” Edward asked, his interest piqued.

Teed shook his head and laughed, his jowls jiggling as he did so. “No, not at all. Pleasure, my lad! Pure pleasure.”

Edward did not quite know how to respond. “Indeed?”

“Aye. But you being newlywed and all won’t know about that kind of pleasure just yet.” He threw his head back and laughed throatily, and Edward could see the food in the back of his mouth.

“Ah, that kind of pleasure.” Edward opened his eyes wide and raised his eyebrows a little. He turned back to the serving dishes before him and speared some more roast pork for his dinner plate. Anything was better than continuing a conversation about John Teed's mistress. “Do you come to London often for Grampound constituency business?” Edward asked hoping to change the subject.

“Never!” came the answer together with a chuckle.

“Never? You never have to come to London on business?” Edward was confused. He looked at John Teed sideways to see if he was in his cups and the worse for wear for liquor.

“Aye, I might have to come to London once or twice a year and show my face, but that's all.” He looked up at Edward, who wore a dreadfully confused expression. He explained, “Grampound is a rotten borough, you see?”

“Oh! I did not know that.” Edward had heard about rotten boroughs but had never met the minister for one. They were somewhat of an anomaly, a rotten borough being a borough with relatively few voters and yet somehow managed to gain an MP. This was mostly because of the power of one particular family. Edward wondered if that was the true connection between John Teed and the Right Honourable Andrew Cochran-Johnstone, who was the youngest son of the eighth Earl of Dundonald. “I suppose it is very convenient indeed.”

Once more Teed threw back his head and laughed throatily, and Edward was once more treated to the sight of Teed's mouthful of food. “I would say it was convenient, yes. Ha!” He slapped his hand down upon the table hard, making the plates and cutlery jump. “You know what, Emberton?” he asked as he turned towards Edward again and waved his knife at him. “I think I like you.” He nodded and eyed Edward approvingly.

Edward laughed nervously, quite at a loss for words. “Erm… Thank you,” he shrugged.

This set John Teed off into further guffaws of laughter. Edward was entirely unsure what to make of the man. He was either as drunk as a lord or utterly insane. Of course, Edward mused as he turned his attention to his meal, it could well have been a combination of both. In an attempt to become occupied elsewhere, he took a sideways glance at the diner on his left and discovered he was already in deep conversation with the gentleman to his own left.

Edward shrugged and reconciled himself to the fact that he would have to sit and converse with an entire bore of a madman throughout the remainder of dinner.
Never mind,
he consoled himself
, dinner will not last forever, and there will be plenty of opportunities to speak to the other members of Parliament afterward
.

John Teed was blathering on about rising taxes, when Edward’s attention was caught by a commotion going on out in the hallway. Giving half an ear to what Teed was saying, Edward signalled to Stainton to go out and deal with whomever or whatever was threatening the dinner party.

He glanced up the table and saw Frances periodically shooting sideways glances at the door, becoming more agitated by the second. She was in a better position to hear what was happening in the hallway than Edward, but even from his position, he knew it was nothing good.

Edward had just begun to weigh up the possibility of excusing himself tactfully to go and deal with the commotion personally when the door burst open and in tumbled a dishevelled and clearly drunken man shouting at the top of his voice.

Forcibly Edward pushed his chair back, scraping it along the parquet flooring. Annoyed and embarrassed at the disruption in front of his guests, he marched towards the intruder, prepared to personally throw him out of his house. As the man's words reached his ears, Edward froze to the spot.

“She is mine!” he cried out, tears streaking down his face. He pointed directly at Frances as his words reverberated around the dining room. “She is mine!” he repeated.

Edward’s limbs felt as though they were made of lead. He could barely move. A small voice in the back of his mind told him this was the James Kirby that Frances had told him about. He could see Frances squirming under the man's accusation. She shifted in her seat to move as far away from the man as possible. If she could have fled the room without having to get past Kirby first, Edward was sure she would have.

The man continued to cry out as a hush fell on the room. “I had her before you! She is mine, not his!” He spun his head round and pointed in Edward's face, his expression full of hatred and bile. “You’re just a bloody puppet, Emberton, and I had her first. She belongs to me not to you! I will not give her up! You cannot make me!”

Edward was astounded as James Kirby then rounded on Lord Davenport. “I don't care what you say. I don't care what threats you make or what power you think you have. Frances is mine, and I am not leaving here without her!”

Still Edward could not move, speak, or even think clearly. He was in disbelief, maybe even in a mild state of shock. As if through cotton wool, he heard the sound of Lord Davenport’s laughter, laughter as though he found something highly amusing. There was nothing remotely humorous about this situation to Edward’s mind. His lordship’s laughter rang out loud and clear throughout the dining room, and Edward’s guests stared with incredulity first at the intruder, then Davenport, and back again.

“Don't you laugh at me!” Kirby spat. The man's voice lowered and now had a dangerous edge to it, “She is mine. She said she loved me, and I am not leaving here without her.”

Edward finally found his courage, and the life flowed back into his limbs. He stepped forward, took a deep breath to confront the man and have him thrown bodily out of the house when Lord Davenport spoke across him.

“We've been through all of this before, stupid boy.”

Edward’s head snapped around to glare at his father-in-law, who utterly ignored him.

“I told you already that you shall disappear and never go near my daughter again or I would deal with you, did I not?”

“I hardly think this is the time or place to have this discussion!” Edward shouted to make himself heard over the murmuring guests and James’ ravings. “Stainton, get this man out of here now!” he commanded.

“Oh, pipe down, Emberton!” his lordship jeered.

“I beg your pardon?” Edward stared at his father-in-law, open-mouthed and flabbergasted at such rudeness.

“You heard me. Pipe down!” Davenport pushed his chair back and rose, coming around the table to stand to Frances’ right and address Kirby face-to-face. He pointed his fat finger at Kirby's nose. “I know I made myself perfectly clear before. I have no compunction in carrying out my previous threat. Do I make myself understood?”

Kirby still would not back down, “I am not leaving here without her, you understand? Her marriage to Emberton is a sham just so you can use him!”

Once more Lord Davenport erupted with laughter, his entire body rippling with each guffaw. “My dear lad, you are in no position whatsoever to make demands.”

“I'm not leaving here without her!” Kirby shouted emphatically.

His lordship stepped slowly and deliberately around the back of Frances’ chair and stood in front of James Kirby, towering over him like a giant. “I don't think you understand.”

Edward felt the tension in the air increase and began to worry that this state of affairs would quite possibly end in fisticuffs. He stepped forward to intervene.

“You stay where you are, Emberton. I don't need your help dealing with this,” his lordship hissed and held out his hand to stay Edward while maintaining eye contact with Kirby.

“I—”

“I said shut up and stay where you are!” Davenport bellowed at Edward.

At first Edward thought his ears were buzzing in his fury at his father-in-law, but as the sound grew in intensity, he realised it was the hum of conversation from around the table. He looked behind him at his assembled guests and saw them shaking their heads, pointing fingers at him and Lord Davenport, and nodding towards James Kirby. Some of the words spoken reached his ears, none of them good. Panic began to rise throughout Edward’s body as he foresaw his political future crumble.

“You don't scare me!” Again James Kirby was shouting. “She's a whore, that's what she is!”

A collective gasp made its way around the room. Edward was incensed. Never before had he wanted to hit a man so much as he did right then. Even as he started to act on that impulse, one look at his father-in-law stayed him.

“I know what you're up to with him!” Kirby pointed back at Edward. “He hasn't got a clue how you're using him, poor sap.” He glared back at Frances. “She's good for nothing, and she’s certainly no good for the likes of you lot!” Kirby sneered at the assembly. “She isn't a lady, she wasn’t a lady when I first had her, and she certainly isn't a lady now. I am going to leave this house with Frances, and you, none of you, are going to stop us.” Kirby made a grab for Frances' wrist.

Edward’s eyes narrowed with fury. His vision blurred red. He forgot about his father-in-law, forgot about his guests as he lunged at James Kirby, grabbing at the hand that held his wife’s wrist in an effort to wrench it free. Enraged, Kirby landed the balled fist of his free hand square on Edward’s nose.

Edward cried out as the sickening crunch of crushed cartilage sounded through the room. Blinded with pain, he lashed out, his own fist connecting hard with Kirby's jaw. Ducking to avoid Kirby's counterpunch to the side of his head, Edward drew his right arm back for another blow when he felt strong hands seizing him from behind and pulling him from the fracas. The scent of cigar tobacco and Scotch assailed his nostrils. It was his father-in-law, Lord Davenport.

Edward was roughly shoved to the side of the room. He leant upon the mantelpiece for support and wiped at his bloodied mouth and nose. He watched helplessly as Kirby was manhandled and, with brute force, dragged from the room kicking and screaming by footmen.

It took Edward a moment to realise it, but the sound of chairs scraping against the parquet floor filled the air. He turned to see his guests rising, murmuring amongst themselves, and, to his dismay, making their way to the front door.

“Please don't go!” he cried out desperately.  “I sincerely apologise!” But it was to no avail. His guests were leaving.

Kirby's cries could still be heard echoing through the hall as he was hauled out of the house. “You are a bloody fool, Emberton! He's using you! He'll bring it all down around your ears, you mark my words!”

Somewhere deep in Edward’s mind, the notion that Kirby meant to warn him about his father-in-law took root.  Edward had no time nourish the thought. His guests were leaving
en masse
. He endeavoured to persuade them to stay, desperately hoping to salvage the dinner party. His pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Wh…what?” Edward stuttered feebly. His mind was in a whirl, Kirby's words repeating over and over in his head. As his guests slowly filed past him, muttering meaningless sounds as they took their leave, Edward asked the world in general, “What did Kirby mean by that?”

Just as William Wilberforce was passing in front of Edward, his expression sad, he stopped, patted Edward’s arm consolingly, and said, “I think you need to ask your father-in-law that question, young man.”

Edward stared after Wilberforce as he departed. He felt helpless and deflated. His entire wonderfully planned evening had collapsed because of the intrusion of a single deranged man from his wife’s past. He turned his eyes, reddened from the unshed tears that he’d forced back, upon his father-in-law and asked once more, “What did Kirby mean by that?”

Lord Davenport waved dismissively at Edward and twisted towards Frances, “Ah, never you mind that, my lad! Kirby was just blowing out hot air!”

Edward would not be put off by his father-in-law again. Not tonight. “Don't dismiss me like that!” Edward barked far more aggressively than he intended.