Jonathan snorted as he regarded Edward. “Yeah. I guess that’s what you would think.”
The heir neatly folded the paper and set it carefully on the dining table where he’d just finished his breakfast. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Am I wrong?”
“I doubt you would believe me if I said otherwise,” Jonathan countered. “You have your mind made up about me, and nothing I say will change that.”
He turned back to the window that overlooked the streets of Mayfair, where his brother’s townhouse was located. Jonathan had been back in London for two miserable days, and while he would have normally taken extreme delight to be back in such familiar surroundings, everything was pale and wan, as if the city had drained of color in his absence. Even his usual entertainments had lost their sparkle.
Jonathan knew it was bad when he’d finally left his bachelor lodgings to visit his brother, whom he avoided most of the time. The only thing that would complete his inner torment was if his father—
“What depravity is it that brings you to our doorstep, boy? Money? Legal assistance?”
Jonathan rolled his eyes heavenward on a plea for patience, as he slowly turned to regard his sire. A portly man with graying, dark hair and a firm countenance, he eyed his youngest son with a critical eye.
“Hello, Father,” he said, unable to keep the mocking lilt out of his voice.
“Out with it then,” the Earl of Vellerman returned sharply. “What do you want? I’d like to eat my breakfast in peace.”
Jonathan was careful to school his features into a perfectly neutral expression, so his father didn’t realize how much his words stung. “Not a damn thing.”
This actually brought the earl’s head up. He narrowed his gaze. “I don’t want to play games—”
“I’m not!” Jonathan returned sharply, his words cracking through the air with all the force of a whip. He ground his teeth together. “I know you’ve always viewed me as a careless ne’er-do-well, but if you would actually stop and contemplate the truth now and then, you might find that all the rumors about me aren’t true, and that I’m not as worthless as you like to tell people that I am.”
The earl gasped in indignation. He slammed a fist on the table. “I have no need to tell lies!”
“Really?” Jonathan lifted a brow. “I seem to recall, not so long ago, an entry in the betting books at White’s, written by your own hand, if I would see my end at the hand of a cuckolded husband or my own idiocy.”
Edward’s eyes widened slightly. It was the first time Jonathan had ever known him to show any sort of expression other than disdain. “Father—”
The older man slashed his hand through the air. “I only speak the truth! Why should I not gain from his deplorable actions? He’s been nothing but poison to this family! You know it as well as I.”
“Indeed?” Edward countered. “If I recall correctly, he isn’t the only wastrel in this room with the last name of Castleford.” He tapped a finger on the mahogany table. “Weren’t you the one who was caught in flagrante delicto with his mistress the night Mother died?”
The earl’s face turned an alarming shade of red, and Jonathan wondered if he might have an apoplexy. “There is nothing wrong with that! Men have certain needs that a wife can’t always fulfill.”
“For seven years?” Edward pointed out.
Their father rose to his feet. “I used to think you were sensible, Edward, but I can see that boy’s daft imaginings have warped your mind.” He pointed his finger accusingly at Jonathan.
Edward snorted. “You’re only upset because you see yourself in his actions. And it sickens you when you look back at your own life.”
“You know nothing!” the earl thundered. “I will not stand for this insubordination in my own house! Get out! Before I disinherit the lot of you!”
“Gladly.” Edward stood and paused before Jonathan. “Are you coming?”
“I’m right behind you,” Jonathan said with a decided smirk.
As they walked down the steps, Jonathan turned to his brother. “I’ve never known you to stand up to Father like that,” he said quietly.
Edward shrugged as they meandered down the street. “It was time. I’ve always thought father was a hypocrite for condemning you for something he was equally guilty of doing. I guess it just took the right motivation to call him on it.” Edward stopped and turned to face Jonathan fully, his gray-green eyes more serious than he had ever seen them before. “I daresay I owe you an apology for not speaking up in your defense before now.”
Jonathan swallowed over a particularly suspicious lump in his throat. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
“That’s what brothers are for, aren’t they? To stand up against their tyrannical fathers?” Edward clasped Jonathan on the back and offered him one of his rare smiles. “Now how about we get a drink, and I get to know my brother a little better?”
“Sounds ideal,” Jonathan returned with a grin of his own.
***
Nearly two hours later, sitting in the smoking room at Brook’s, Jonathan sat back with a feeling of contentment — at least in regards to the relationship with his brother. He was surprised to learn that over the years, while he had believed Edward to be the favorite child, he had been just as persecuted in private as Jonathan had been in public. Their father had been a difficult taskmaster who expected perfection from his heir, and when he wasn’t satisfied with the results, he had taken the whip to Edward.
Jonathan had never known.
But now that Edward had begun to open up, he found himself reciprocating. He told him about the work he’d done in secret for the poor in London and his recent adventures in Cornwall, including with a certain lady.
When he was finished, Edward asked, “So what the hell are you doing here?”
Jonathan knew he was referring to Fanny, so he purposefully tried to change the subject. “Mr. Santon reassured me that I didn’t have to remain to oversee the process, that the mine—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it,” Edward interrupted. “Miss Grouseman sounds like a fascinating woman, yet you take off without a word to her?”
“Trust me,” Jonathan murmured. “She said enough for both of us.”
“It sounds to me as if she had the good sense to protect herself.”
Jonathan bristled. “I never hurt her.”
“Perhaps not physically, but a woman’s emotions are complicated.” He sat forward. “Did you even tell her how you felt? Or that you’ve actually considered relocating to St. Austell?” He leaned back. “She’s an innocent, Jonathan, not one of your former doxies.”
Jonathan blew out a breath. “I’ve made a royal mess of this, haven’t I?”
“It’s never too late to change things,” his brother pointed out. “I just think it’s rather ironic that you have always been the authority on the fairer sex, yet here I am, giving you advice.” He stood. “Now, if memory serves, you have a ball to attend in Cornwall in less than twenty-four hours. If we’ve any hope to make it in time, I suggest we get a move on.”
Jonathan’s eyes widened. “You’re going with me?”
“Of course. I need to be there to caution you when you’re getting ready to do something foolish.”
Jonathan drained his glass of brandy with a hearty laugh, and set it on the table next to him with a decided clink. “Then let’s make haste. The gallant knight shall ride to the rescue.”
His brother winked. “I do believe, in this instance, that the fair damsel is the one doing the saving of the errant hero.”
***
Fanny paced the modest parlor at her family’s home. She worried her lower lip with her teeth, and nearly jumped when the clock struck the hour on the mantle. She was wearing a new gown this evening, courtesy of Lady Marwood. It was a delicate, lilac silk and caressed her skin with every movement. She knew it was an offering to make her feel better and it had, if only temporarily.
For the
past three days, a little piece of her had withered and died when she realized that Jonathan wasn’t coming back. Seated at her desk, she had stared at a blank page, intent on writing to him. But every time she dipped her quill in the ink, the words faded and jumbled until she finally gave up. How did one portray so much emotion onto a single piece of paper?
At least she was given a reprieve from those seductive green eyes and that sensual smile hovering in the forefront of her thoughts. Tonight was the final smuggling mission at Talland Bay. Lord and Lady Marwood had decided to hold the ball as planned, even though their guest of honor was missing, in the hopes that attention would continue to be diverted, particularly those of the revenue officers that had been invited to attend.
While Fanny wasn’t looking forward to spending any more time with Mr. Linneman than was absolutely necessary, she would do what she must to ensure that her father, and the other village men who would be at the bay tonight, escaped the hangman’s noose.
And there is a certain satisfaction in knowing that it is all going to transpire right under his nose when he is completely unaware of it.
“Fanny, do stand still,” Agnes snapped as she adjusted her hair comb. “Your relentless pacing is wearing on my nerves.” In London, she wouldn’t have been old enough to attend a society ball, but in the country, the rules were a little more lax.
“Agnes, really,” Lilah said in reprimand. “She has a right to be nervous. It’s as if you don’t understand the severity of the situation at hand.”
“Of course, I do,” her younger sister replied in a huff. “But you seem to forget I’m not the selfish one who chased Lord Castleford away.”
Fanny was about to give Agnes a piece of her mind when their mother appeared.
“Girls, please.” Mrs. Grouseman put a hand to her forehead. “If you are quite through caterwauling, could we get in the carriage?”
Fanny glared at her youngest sister, who stuck her tongue out in return. Before Fanny could react, Agnes marched outside.
As usual, Lilah was the calming force of the household. She put her hand in Fanny’s and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I know that you were only safeguarding your future by acting as you did toward Lord Castleford.” She was the only one Fanny had dared confide in. “I understand your reasons even if Agnes is still too young and immature to grasp the nature of the heart.”
The fight left Fanny like a gust of wind, leaving behind a certain feeling of desperation. “Oh, Lilah. What if something happens tonight? I couldn’t live with myself if I was responsible for—”
Lilah hushed her with a shake of her head. “Don’t even talk like that! You are responsible for nothing but being a smart woman who deferred the attentions of a known rake. As far as Papa and the others—” Her blue eyes hardened. “I fear if they are captured, then they’ve only brought the law unto themselves.”
Fanny gasped. “Lilah! How can you say such a thing?”
“Because it’s true and we all know it,” her sister returned firmly. “Now, let’s go.”
Fanny considered Lilah’s words all the way to Killigarth Manor. While she wanted to deny her sister’s claim, Lilah was absolutely right. Their father, as well as the rest of the villagers, had been gambling on this risky, and potentially deadly, business for years.
Fanny could only pray that their luck held out for just a few hours longer.
Chapter Ten
As their carriage pulled up in front of Lord and Lady Marwood’s home, Fanny had to appreciate the view in front of her. Every window was brilliantly lit up from within. Unlike the past couple of weeks when she had walked through the doors of Killigarth Manor to silence, tonight the lilting strains of a string quartet drifted out through the open windows. She closed her eyes as she recognized one of the tunes as a quadrille; one of the first dances she had ever practiced with Lord Castleford.
As Fanny and her sisters, along with their mother, walked toward the second floor, Fanny felt her heart pound. After they were announced, and she glanced down into the ballroom, she faltered. She grasped the railing and exhaled deeply as memory assailed her. She knew it would be difficult to return here, where Lord Castleford’s presence yet lingered, but she hadn’t known it would be quite so acute.
Or painful.
“Are you alright?” Lilah asked at her side.
“I’m fine,” Fanny replied with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and descended the stairs.
The room had been transformed into a spring-filled wonderland, with sparkling candlelight, fresh greenery, and fragrant flowers. A single red rose caught Fanny’s gaze and she separated herself from Lilah as she gravitated toward it. She held the full bloom to her nose and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes and pictured Jonathan next to her in the rose garden in his white shirt rolled up to the elbows, a sheen of perspiration coating the expanse of muscular chest that was revealed. She sighed.
“It rather pales in comparison to your beauty.”
Fanny’s breath caught at the sound of the masculine voice, until recognition took hold. She slowly turned to face the arrogant gaze of Robert Linneman. She yearned to give him the set down he deserved for his highhanded treatment of her that day on the road, but instead, she offered a light curtsy and forced herself to hold her tongue. “How kind of you to say so.”
“It’s not kindness if it’s the truth.”
Fanny merely smiled. If such a compliment had come from Jonathan, she would have lit up from within. From Mr. Linneman, it only made her uncomfortable.
“There you are, Mr. Linneman!” Agnes strolled up with a perfectly practiced pout. For a girl of only fifteen, Fanny had to admit that she was falling into the role of coquette a little too easily. “I despaired of ever seeing you this evening. I saved a dance for you.” She held up her wrist from which her dance card dangled. “It’s the waltz.”
“I’m sorry, my dear, but I was going to beg your sister for the honor.” His dark eyes warmed as they lit on Fanny and she felt her blood turn to ice.
“But Mr. Linneman—”
He waved a hand in Agnes’ direction, but kept his gaze on Fanny. “Run along now, child. The adults are conversing.”
Agnes gave an indignant gasp, as she turned and stalked off.
Fanny narrowed her gaze on her companion. “Was it necessary to be so rude? She merely has an infatuation.”
He didn’t appear repentant in the slightest. “As do I.” His voice lowered. “But by the end of this evening, I hope to have my desires satiated.”
“If I didn’t know better,” Fanny said firmly, her patience wearing thin. “I would think you were being rather crude.”
“Oh, I can be many things, Miss Grouseman,” he returned smoothly, as he stepped forward, causing her to retreat until she was against the wall. “May I suggest we find a quiet location in which to further—”
“No one backs Fanny into a corner,” a dry, male voice interceded, followed by a long-suffering sigh. “You do try my fortitude, Mr. Linneman. I thought I had already made myself clear when it came to your behavior toward Miss Grouseman. But perhaps it is merely that you are too ignorant to comprehend a simple command.”
Fanny could barely hold back the relief that nearly brought her to her knees. Jonathan is here! Her eyes stung with tears as she drank in his handsome visage. It was amazing how much had changed between them since the first day they’d met, when she had landed face first in the mud at his feet. He looked resplendent in his white cambric shirt and snug fitting black trousers, jacket, and matching waistcoat.
Mr. Linneman, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as admiring. A vein in his forehead stuck out prominently, a sure sign that he was trying to hold back an angry outburst. “You dare to brand me a scoundrel when you are the one who is known to take advantage of innocents. You, my lord, are a hypocrite!”
Jonathan winced, as if the words met their mark, but Fanny could read the truth in his eyes. He was allowing Mr. Linneman this moment of glory. “I confess t
hat may have been true at one time, although I fear you were misinformed where any ‘innocents’ were concerned. But that is all in the past, for I am quite besotted with one particular lady these days.”
His eyes warmed like emeralds as they lit on Fanny, and her spirits soared heavenward.
Instead of backing down, Robert merely chuckled. “I do hope that you aren’t referring to Miss Grouseman, for she is already spoken for. In fact, I can rather guarantee it.” That’s when he turned to her and said the one thing she had been dreading to hear. “She will come with me if she wants to ensure her father and the rest of his conspirators, ever see the light of day again.”
***
Jonathan gazed at Fanny. She had paled to such a degree that he thought she might actually faint.
He glared at the revenue officer with more than a touch of dislike. The man was a pure snake to threaten a lady. His lady. “I should call you out,” he said quietly, and with every bit of maliciousness he could inject. He almost hoped the man accepted his offer, for Jonathan had always been a rather crack shot.
Unfortunately, Mr. Linneman was just as composed as before. “You’re a fool, Lord Castleford. And the entire town knows it.” Robert laughed, a harsh, cruel sound. “Tell him, Miss Grouseman. Tell him how you, Lord and Lady Marwood, and the entire village of Polperro have duped your lover into believing that this ball was actually to honor him, when it was merely a cover-up for what transpired at Talland Bay this very night.” He shook his head. “And you, Lord Castleford, were just too conceited to believe it.”
Fanny’s dark eyes lifted to meet his with a mixture of shame and regret. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was only trying to protect my father.”
Lord Castleford's Fortunate Folly (Fortunes 0f Fate Book 2) Page 8