Chapter 3:
Reginald Raymond Bailey
AN AWKWARD SILENCE HUNG OVER the small entry hall of the Clayburn home. Giles stared, stunned, at the man he had just thrown to the ground, his arm still shielding Fiona. “Uncle?” he repeated suspiciously.
Behind him, Baron Clayburn stammered a hasty apology, blue in the face. “My-my-my-my greatest apologies, Lord Lowell! Th-this man is my brother-in-law, Reginald!”
“Sorry, everyone, I only meant to surprise Fiona a little,” said the man in question, cackling and not sounding sorry in the least. “Looks like I outdid myself.” Reginald’s hair was bright gold and his eyes were amber, and though his coloring resembled Fiona’s, his delicate facial structure and mannerisms favored Cecelia. The polar opposite of the meek baron, he made no effort to get to his feet.
“Fiona, is this true?” Giles asked.
“Y-yes. That’s my uncle.”
But what is he doing here? According to Fiona, Reginald had said he was going to send Fiona a painting, not pay her a personal visit.
Giles extended a hand to the man on the ground. “Do excuse me. I didn’t know you were family.”
“Oh, no harm done! Hup!” He took hold of Giles, jumped to his feet, and shook hands with him.
“Giles Bancroft,” Giles said by way of introduction.
“Aha! So you’re the guy—”
“U-Uncle?!”
Before Giles could respond to the implication in Reginald’s tone, Fiona ran up to them, and Reginald flashed a friendly smile at his bewildered niece. “Yup,” he said. “They delivered me along with the painting.”
“You speak as if it happened accidentally…”
“What’s this? Aren’t you happy to see me?”
“O-of course I’m happy to see you! I missed you so much!”
“C’mere,” Reginald said, spreading his arms wide.
Cheerful at last, Fiona flew into his embrace. “Oh, you gave me such a scare!”
“Ha ha ha! Mission accomplished! Missed you, Fiona.”
He lifted her high off the ground and spun her around in his arms. This little reenactment of a lovers’ reunion was exactly what happened every time he came home. However, while the rest of the party smiled warmly at the sight, Giles went as stiff as an ice sculpture.
“But I thought you weren’t going to return for a while,” Fiona said.
“Well, I heard you were in a little trouble, so I had to come back, Fiona. Of course, I couldn’t get back as soon as I wanted. Sorry I took so long.” Reginald gently lowered Fiona to the floor and shot her a charming wink. The devilish twinkle in his eye did not escape Fiona.
“Uncle, you said ‘mission accomplished’ earlier. Just a wild guess, but…does Roche know about this?”
“Well, of course. He got me my ticket home.”
“Oh, you’re both horrible!”
Suddenly, it dawned on Fiona: When Roche mentioned the “transport arrangements” yesterday at the gallery, he wasn’t talking about a painting.
“Hans was in on it too,” Reginald added.
“He was?!” Fiona shot an angry glance upstairs at her uncle’s coconspirator. For all her indignance, though, she could not hide the joy spilling out of her.
“Well, I wasn’t sure when I’d get here, so I asked them to keep it a secret from you, Fiona. Don’t blame them, okay?”
Fiona returned her uncle’s innocent grin with a smile of her own. “I would never. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
As she stood there, still recovering from the shock, he lifted both her arms up and examined the ring on her left hand, then scrutinized the rest of her. “You’re almost unrecognizable,” he told her. “A lovely young lady.”
“R-really?”
“Well, I’ve always thought my Fiona was pretty, no matter what she wore.”
Why does he always have to lay it on so thick?! Fiona thought, mortified as she always was when Reginald praised her. Her uncle valued uniqueness, and as such, he’d admired Fiona ever since she was a little girl. She thanked him shyly, and he planted a loving kiss on her cheek.