“So we’re back here again, are we?” she sighed.
As fast as she could, she made a sweep of the room, consulting with each senior member of staff as she went. She’d counted on overseeing the clean-up, but now she had a more important task ahead of her. Lucky for her, the new staff was well-trained, and she was able to head upstairs within half an hour.
The moment she stepped through the door into her and Jason’s suite, she knew the problem was much worse than she’d bargained for.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” she asked, quickly shutting and locking the door behind her.
Jason paced the main room of the suite in nothing but his robe, which was tented around his hips. His hair stood at odd angles as he raked his hands through it repeatedly. His face was still flushed and his eyes unfocused. As soon as she spoke, he switched directions, making a beeline toward her.
“I know you told me to go to bed, but I couldn’t,” he said in fast, distracted tones. “I tried, but I couldn’t lay still. Everything keeps buzzing around in my head, and I’m so hard that it hurts. I can’t think.”
Flossie swallowed her fear and took his hand. “What’s going on? What did she say to you that has you so upset?” She led him to the bedroom.
“She says I’m too obvious when I look at you. She wants her London friends to believe that I adore her. She wants them all to envy her once she goes to London. So she said I can’t even look at you, much less speak to you in public.”
Flossie made a dismissive sound as she shut the bedroom door, pretending to make light of the situation, though her stomach clenched at the implications. “Lady E will get what she signed up for,” she said, pushing Jason toward the bed. The sheets were already rumpled, as though he’d tossed and turned for a full night when he couldn’t have been in bed for more than five minutes.
“She will,” Jason agreed, “but I don’t know if I can stand it.” He shrugged out of his robe, tossing it toward the chair and missing, then crawled into bed. His cock seemed uncomfortably erect as he settled onto his back. “It’s this crowd,” he went on. “Merion knows me by reputation. Those people all looked and sounded and smelled like…like things I can’t get out of my head. It’s pulling me back to that place and I can’t…I just can’t….” He writhed as though fire were pulsing through his blood.
Flossie shed her clothes as quickly as she could, her heart pounding in alarm. She hadn’t known Jason in London, but she remembered what he had been like when they’d first met. She remembered the work she’d had to do to keep him calm and to help him find his center. All that work felt as though it were in jeopardy now.
With her clothes draped over the back of the chair, she climbed into bed and settled herself over top of him. “Jason, look at me.” She straddled his hips, pressing her weight down on him as she reached for his hands. “Look at me.” She grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the pillow on either side of his head. Instantly, he stilled. His eyes met hers, shining with a desperate light. “You’re going to be all right. I’m here. I’m with you. You’re going to be all right.”
“I’m not so sure,” he said in a haunted voice.
“I am,” she insisted, squeezing his wrists tight.
He drew in a breath, then another, then another, each slower and more relaxed than the last. One by one, his muscles relaxed. It would have been reassuring to Flossie if the whole thing hadn’t had a feeling of surrender to it.
“Are you all right like this?” she asked, letting go of one of his wrists to brush the hair back from his forehead and to stroke his face. “Or do you want me to fetch the cords?”
“I’ll be all right like this,” he said, slowly moving to circle his arms around her. The unspoken words “for now” hung between them. There was only so much they could do to keep things in check before more serious measures needed to be taken. And with Lady E on the rampage, it was only a matter of time before Flossie had her hands full.
Episode Three - A Happy Discovery
Jason
Jason strode through the dining room of his hotel with barely a glance at the elegant, autumnal décor Flossie had installed two weeks before. His back itched, and the intricate lattice of cords and knots that Flossie had tied around his left hand that morning—a contraption that prevented him from bending the knuckles on that hand comfortably—was beginning to pinch. Not that he was willing to take it off. In the six weeks since his near breakdown after the engagement ball, his nerves had remained frazzled, and he was convinced his soul was in a precarious position.
“Oh, Mr. Throckmorton,” Daniel Reilly, the bright Irishman Flossie had hired to replace Samuel as the daytime concierge, called out as Jason passed through the lobby. “A telegram came for you.”
“I’ll give it to him.” Young Willy jumped up from the bench beside the desk, where he’d been swinging his legs. Daniel sent him a wry grin before handing him the folded piece of paper. Willy scrambled across the lobby to hand it to Jason.
“Thank you, Willy.” Jason nodded to the boy with as much of a smile as he could muster in his miserable mood. He unfolded the paper as smoothly as he could with his bound hand and scanned the few lines.
He sighed. It was another, useless report from Samuel about things at the Winchester hotel that could have easily been solved without him. Worse still, it was clear Samuel had gone over the head of Mr. Jensen, the Winchester hotel’s actual manager. Even miles away, Samuel was still a thorn in his side.
“Thank you, Daniel.” Jason nodded to the man, fumbled his way through folding the telegram, and shoved it in his coat pocket before striding on across the lobby to the back hallway.
He should be happy. His hotels seemed blessed. In spite of Samuel’s constant communiques, the Winchester hotel had been wildly popular since the day it opened. The York hotel was coming along as well, not that its initial problems had been solved, and his older hotels continued to do a brisk business. He had his eyes on Scotland and Ireland next. His man of business in London was constantly congratulating him on the money he was making hand over fist. St. Germaine was full of hope when it came to the possibility of succeeding at the custody hearing for Marshall’s girls. London society was abuzz with gossip about him and Lady E, just as Lady E wanted.
In spite of it all, Jason was in agony. Six weeks since the engagement party. Six weeks of waking up every morning and wondering if that would be the day his mind finally snapped. The restless buzz in his brain was constant now, almost as bad as it had been when he’d reached his nadir in London, before fleeing home to Brynthwaite. Summer had firmly ended and autumn was more than halfway done, but he hadn’t been able to enjoy any of it.
“What brings you down this way?” Flossie asked him as she came out of the laundry room at the end of the hall Jason had stalked down. Unlike him, she was looking radiant these days. Her blue eyes shone like the summer sky, and she didn’t seem to be able to wipe the smile off her face. Just seeing her eased some of the tension coiling inside of him.
“I’m supposed to be at Huntingdon Hall for luncheon today,” he told her with a sigh.
Flossie leaned her weight on one hip and crossed her arms. “You’ve gone up there almost every day this week.”
“I know,” Jason grumbled. “So much for believing that I’d be allowed to have time to run my business now and then.”
Flossie arched her brow and hummed. Jason knew full well that she liked the arrangement between him and Lady E less and less with each passing day. He also knew that she was well aware of how important it was to go through with things. But if she were to order him to stop and break off the engagement, he would do it in a heartbeat. He would do anything Flossie ordered him to do the instant she ordered it. To the point that he was certain it wasn’t healthy.
That in mind, he raised his trussed hand. “Do you have a glove that would fit over this?” he asked, the heat of a blush coming to his face. “I’m not particularly keen to explain to Lady E or her guests why my han
d looks like a Christmas goose ready for the oven.”
Flossie let out an ironic laugh, her eyes flashing. “You were the one who wanted to go back to me giving you an order to follow every day.”
“I was,” he admitted. “And believe me, it’s the only thing keeping me sane at the moment.”
He knew in an instant he’d spoken with too much severity. The joy in Flossie’s eyes dimmed, replaced by worry. She rested a hand on his arm and leaned in to kiss him gently—an action that had the contradictory effects of making him hard and calming him simultaneously. It was worth the ache to know that she was free to kiss him within the halls of their own hotel without consequences. The staff knew what was what, and they knew that their jobs depended on their discretion.
“I’ll see what I can find,” she said, resting her hand on his chest for a moment before taking a step back, her businesslike manner returning.
“Thank you,” Jason said with a sigh. “You know I depend on you.”
She merely laughed as she walked away.
Jason turned to head back to the lobby, but before he could take more than a step, Flossie called out and stopped him.
“I have an appointment with Alexandra later,” she said. When Jason turned back to her, she wore a mischievous grin that had his heart pounding faster. “I demand some time alone this evening to talk about it.”
“Anything you want,” he said. The pounding increased, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he smiled. There were a limited number of reasons Flossie would have an appointment with Dr. Alexandra Pycroft. Reasons that probably had to do with the fact that she hadn’t had her monthly in almost eight weeks, her breasts were noticeably larger and tender, and she’d developed a sudden aversion to oranges and bacon in the mornings. It was proof that, between the two of them, when they wanted something, they got it in short order.
If only that applied to wanting Lady E to leave the two of them in peace while still reaping the benefits that the connection to her offered.
“Mr. Throckmorton, Mr. Throckmorton,” Willy jumped up from his bench and followed Jason as soon as he returned to the lobby. “Do you have any errands for me to run?”
“Not at the moment,” Jason said. He paused on his way into the office and turned to the boy. “How is your reading?”
Willy shrugged and glanced down with a guilty expression. “I know my alphabet.”
Jason shook his head. It wasn’t bad enough that Hoag had murdered Willy and his siblings’ mother, the man had criminally neglected his children’s education as well. “Come here,” he said, marching on into the office.
Willy followed, his eyes lighting with eagerness. Jason walked to the shelf Flossie had installed on one side of the office and scanned the books it contained, looking for the simplest he could find. To his surprise, there was a small stack of simple readers and picture books. He plucked The Young Child’s Primer from the shelf and opened it to see what it contained. His left hand was half useless, but he was able to at least hold the book with it for a moment.
“Here,” he said, closing the book when he was satisfied it would suit the purpose he had in mind. He handed it to Willy. “Read that. Let me know if you need help with any of the words.”
Willy took the book, but he was more interested in frowning at Jason’s hand. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the cords binding it.
“None of your business,” Jason snapped, walking around the desk to take a seat.
Willy followed him, setting the book on the corner of the desk and continuing to stare. “Is it like a glove of some sort?”
“No.” Jason’s face began to heat, and he scooted his chair as far into the desk as he could in case anything happened in a southerly direction that would draw Willy’s attention. The reactions of his affliction were bad enough around adults, but being in a state around children was mortifying.
“Does it hurt?” Willy asked, squinting at Jason’s hand when he rested it on the top of the desk while reaching for his master ledger.
“Yes, a little, but it’s supposed to. Read your book,” he said.
Willy ignored him, inching closer. “Did you tie those knots yourself?”
“No, I didn’t,” Jason said. He pulled his hand back, but with the chair tucked so tightly into the desk, there was no way he could hide it.
Willy tilted his head to the side. “If you didn’t tie it yourself, then who did?”
“It’s not your concern,” Jason said, certain his face was beet red. “Read.”
“Can you pick things up with your hand tied up like that?”
“No,” Jason snapped, wondering why on earth he continued to answer Willy’s questions.
“But if you can’t pick things up like that, why don’t you take the little ropes off?”
Jason stared at him, his mouth dropping open but no sound coming out. There simply wasn’t a way to explain the illness that was driving him mad, the things he was terrified that he might do without the restrictions Flossie put on him, literally and figuratively, the things he’d already done in London years ago. There was no way to make an account of himself and his failures to a child whose whole life still lay ahead of him, especially when that child could very well fall into the same traps he had and more. It broke his heart that innocence was such a fleeting thing. The boy’s father was a murderer, after all. Willy himself had been taught to steal and cheat. Where was the goodness in the world when it was so easy for evil to sweep in and claim its victims?
“You need to learn to read well,” Jason said, clearing his throat and moving on. “The world is stacked against people like you and me. No one is going to help us unless we can learn to help ourselves first.”
Willy stared back at him with a seriousness beyond his nine years. “The school doesn’t want me,” he said. “The master said I’m too bad to learn.”
“You’re not,” Jason told him. “But you’re not like them either.” His words were so simple, but they caused a gaping chasm in his heart. He wished someone had said the same to him when he was a boy. “Listen to me,” he went on, staring hard into Willy’s eyes in a way he wouldn’t with most normal children. “Some of us are broken. Some of us are strange.” He held up his trussed hand. “Some of us do peculiar things that no one else can understand to keep ourselves sane. But that doesn’t mean we can’t succeed. That doesn’t mean that people won’t love us. We just have to be careful who we trust, and we have to search long and hard for the people who will understand us enough to love us. But when we find them, we can’t ever let them go.”
The image of Flossie smiling just minutes ago stuck in his mind, Flossie on the verge of a whole new beginning that would bind them together forever. He didn’t think he could survive without her.
“Am I broken?” Willy asked in a small, haunted voice, his eyes round.
“I don’t know,” Jason said. “Possibly.” He gave a small shrug. “You’ll know more as you get older. But if you are, you’re not alone. Even if the world tries to tell you that you are.”
Willy’s eyes grew red and watery. “I’m scared.”
Jason sighed. “So am I,” he admitted. “Every day. All the time.”
Before he could say more, Willy launched himself against Jason, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him so tightly that Jason’s back stiffened in surprise. The arm of the chair formed an awkward barrier between them, but within seconds, shock gave way to an unaccountable affection for the boy, and Jason hugged him in return. It felt as though he was comforting the boy he had been, before everything had gone wrong, and as if he was embracing his son—who could very well be growing inside of Flossie at that moment—and promising to protect him from the world. The past and the future seemed to collide in that moment in the person of Willy Hoag.
At last, Jason cleared his throat and nudged Willy to stand on his own. “Read your book now,” he said, surprised at how gruff his voice sounded. “Reading is the most important thing you can do t
o better yourself in spite of the world.”
“Yes, sir,” Willy said, admiration shining in his eyes as he scurried around the desk to retrieve his book. “I’ll become the best reader you ever seen.”
Jason sent him a lop-sided grin. “The more you read, the more your grammar will improve,” he said.
Willy flopped into the chair on the other side of the desk. Jason reached for his ledger, surprised at how clear and organized his thoughts had become. But that clarity only lasted for a moment.
“Ah ha!” Jason glanced up to find Mayor Crimpley standing in the office doorway. “I knew there were shenanigans going on surrounding this boy.”
The irritation of Crimpley caused a sour taste in Jason’s mouth. “What can you possibly find fault with now?” he snapped, pushing his chair back to stand.
“Do you know who this boy is?” Crimpley asked, thrusting a finger at Willy.
“I didn’t do nothing,” Willy said, standing and imitating Jason’s posture.
“I seriously doubt that, you little heathen,” Crimpley seethed. He glanced to Jason. “This boy needs to be in school or in a reformatory. And since I have it on good authority that Brynthwaite School won’t take him, the reformatory it is.”
“Master William is employed at The Dragon’s Head,” Jason said, perhaps louder than he should have.
Crimpley’s brow shot up. “Employed?” he spat. “That’s preposterous.”
“I deliver messages and things,” Willy said proudly.
“He’s a junior bellhop,” Jason added. “And he’s training to do more.”
“And do your guests know that you have a pickpocket on your staff?” Crimpley asked, incredulous.
“I have no such thing,” Jason said, stepping around his desk to stand by Willy’s side. He rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Willy is a fine young man with great potential.”
The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part One Page 12