“Bleedin’ ‘ell!” came an indignant shout from behind Aubrey as he turned to see Charlie glaring at him with fury. “I thought you was on our side?” he yelled over the chaos.
“I am!” Aubrey replied with surprise, staring at the fellow in annoyance.
“You could ‘ave fooled me!” Charlie replied, pointing at the man who was groaning and clutching his head. “That’s the bloody marquess.”
Aubrey turned in horror and looked down as he realised the fellow was right and he was staring straight at Edward Greyston.
Dark green eyes that were strangely familiar stared back at him, but with such a haunted, hunted look that he caught his breath.
“Come now, my lord,” Charlie said, his voice soft like he was gentling a horse. “You must see now, I ain’t pithing no gammon. You really is the Marquess of Winterbourne.”
The fellow stared back at Aubrey, and then at Charlie, his eyes filled with some unnamed terror ... and then took to his heels.
“After him!” Charlie cried.
Aubrey spared a glance around to see Falmouth was still on his feet and on form, and joined in the pursuit.
Chapter 12
“Wherein the dead walk again ... or at least lay in bed and complain. A lot.”
Aubrey turned in a circle in the dark alley, and then doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees and gasping for breath. The bloody marquess could certainly shift when he put his mind to it. Charlie stumbled to a halt beside him, blowing like a whale and wiping the sweat from his face with a jaunty red handkerchief.
“You see him?” Aubrey managed, hauling in air like it was going out of fashion.
“Nah,” Charlie replied before staggering back and leaning his shoulders against the wall.
Movement in the shadows at the end of the alley caught their eyes and Aubrey straightened.
“There!” Charlie exclaimed, as they caught a glimpse of panicked eyes. “We’ve got ‘im now!” he added, as the marquess disappeared into the building.
Aubrey gave his companion a dark look at this optimistic exclamation. They may have the blighter cornered, but Aubrey didn’t fancy their chances of doing anything with him.
Nonetheless, he hurried after Charlie, into the gloom of an abandoned warehouse.
Their boots slapped against the wooden treads of a wide staircase as they ran after their quarry, up one, two, and then a third staircase, and then Charlie skidded to a halt.
“No!” he cried out in horror, as Aubrey’s eyes fell upon the silhouetted figure.
The warehouse wall had a wide opening, clearly used for loading goods onto waiting carriages below. On the other side of the alley, there was an identical opening on the building opposite.
“You’ll never make it, ye mad bugger!” Charlie yelled in alarm, as the marquess obviously decided it was worth the risk. He leapt as Aubrey and Charlie ran forward and there was a sickening thud.
“Eddie!” Charlie shouted, looking down at the still figure with panic in his eyes.
“Come on,” Aubrey said, tugging at his arm as they ran back down the stairs and out into the alley. He fell to his knees beside the marquess, bending to listen for a heartbeat. “He’s alive!” he said with relief. “But his arm’s broken at the very least. You stay here, I’ll go and fetch Alex.”
Charlie nodded, white faced and grim in the dingy alley, as Aubrey sprinted away.
By the time they’d cobbled together a makeshift litter and carried the marquess to the carriage, it was close to midnight.
Aubrey leant back against the wall as the unconscious figure was carefully manoeuvred inside under the watchful eye of Charlie, hovering and calling instructions like a swarthy, foul-mouthed mother hen.
“Mind ‘is bleedin’ arm, ye great lobcock! ‘E don’t need t’other one broke an’ all, does ‘e?”
Aubrey snorted and shook his head as Falmouth made his way over.
“Well done, coz,” the big man said, beaming at him with approval. “You showed your colours to advantage tonight.”
Aubrey gave him a crooked grin. “If I’d known that was what was required to meet with your approval, I’d have plunged myself into a riot years ago,” he replied. He’d meant the words to be amusing, but there must have been a bitter edge to them after all as Alex’s face clouded.
“What do you mean, my approval?” Alex demanded, sounding troubled. “As if you ever wanted or needed that!”
Aubrey stared back at him, incredulous. “Oh come on, Alex, doing it rather too brown,” he said, feeling a little angry now. “You and father, you’re both the same. Always looking down your noses at me because I’m not the type to knock a man down the first time he offers me insult.”
Alex gaped at him and Aubrey felt a stirring of misgiving as Alex looked shocked and really a little hurt.
Aubrey frowned and looked away from his cousin as Alex’s face grew thoughtful.
“You really believe that,” he said, after a long moment.
Aubrey shrugged and Alex let out a sigh, placing a heavy hand on Aubrey’s shoulder. “I have always admired you, Aubrey,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You are a good man, an honourable one, and I have often thought I would do well to follow your example.”
It was Aubrey’s turn to gape now, staring at Alex with utter disbelief.
“It’s true,” Alex admitted, looking a trifle rueful. “My temper is, and has forever been, my besetting sin and has gotten me into more trouble than I care to recall. If I wasn’t so ready to raise my voice and my fists ... well, I’d have saved a lot of friendships over the years, and possibly my brother from the mess he landed himself in, too.” Alex stared at him, his grey eyes full of guilt, though his tone was harder now. “Never underestimate yourself,” he said, echoing Dolly’s words to him earlier that same night. “Your father is a fool, and if you haven’t realised that by now, then you’ve less intelligence than I granted you with. He’s never been able to see what a fine man you’ve become, but that’s his failing, not yours. I’m proud of you, Aubrey.”
Aubrey swallowed hard as emotion made a knot in his throat. He’d looked up to Alex, and feared him in equal measure, since he was a small boy. It had been a source of enormous pride to him growing up, that he was cousin to the dark and dangerous Earl of Falmouth. Almost as though a little of the man’s powerful reputation might stick to him if he boasted of the connection.
Alex grinned at him and ruffled his hair like he’d done when he was in short coats and Aubrey exclaimed with feigned annoyance, pushing him away. The two of them laughed and Aubrey was grateful to him for breaking the tension.
“Thank you,” he said with sincerity, hoping Alex could hear that he was grateful for very many things, not just his words.
Alex gave a nod, but his face became grave once more. He came and leaned against the wall beside Aubrey, his hands thrust into the pockets of the coarse clothing he wore, and looking more like a freebooter than an earl.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said, sounding a little awkward.
Aubrey frowned, turning towards him as Alex touched a finger to his own lip and winced when he found it split and swollen. “It’s about Violette,” he added.
The tone of his voice made it clear enough that Aubrey wasn’t about to be given good news, so he took a deep breath and nodded, inviting Alex to get it over with.
“She’s his sister, Aubrey. Lady Violette Greyston. She’s also heiress to a very large fortune.”
Aubrey swallowed and felt any glimmer of hope that might have sparked to life after Dolly’s words, snuff out. How strange that this was worse news than her being the marquess’ lover.
“Ah,” he said, his voice soft as he nodded his understanding of exactly what that meant for him. She was far out of his reach. “Well, it’s not like I had any great hopes in that direction,” he added with a shrug.
“I’m so sorry, Aubrey.”
Aubrey shook his head and forced a smile to his
face. “It’s of no matter, I assure you.” He wondered if Alex could hear the hollow quality of those words as clearly as he could. When he’d believed her to be Eddie’s mistress, he had still hoped, had still believed that maybe there was a chance for him. A marquess was unlikely to marry his mistress after all, and then ... when she realised that fact, maybe she would have turned to him. He didn’t like the idea of her having had a lover, of course, and he knew his family would have kicked up merry hell but ... he would have faced all of that, he realised now. None of it would have mattered to him, if she’d wanted him. But an heiress ...
His hopes crashed to the ground and shattered.
***
Violette leapt to her feet, startling Celeste, who awoke with a little cry, setting Bandit off, barking like a murderous intruder had just appeared in the room and threatened his mistress.
“Arrête!” Celeste exclaimed, scolding the little dog and clutching her heart. “Mon Dieu, you gave me a fright.”
“I heard a carriage,” Violette cried, running to the door and out into the grand entrance hall, just as a very battered looking Lord Falmouth and Mr Russell came through.
“Alex!” Celeste wailed, picking up her skirts and running to Alex, throwing herself into his arms and exclaiming over his injuries as Alex tried to calm her.
Violette stood frozen, wishing she too could run to Aubrey whose eye had been blackened and looked swollen and painful, but hardly daring to breathe as she awaited news of her brother.
“We have him, Violette,” Aubrey said with a gentle smile.
The rush of emotion was so swift and so powerful that Violette gasped and felt herself sway. She reached out to steady herself against the wall, but before she’d moved, Aubrey was beside her, his strong arms holding her firm.
“There you are,” he said. For the briefest moment, she looked up and their eyes met, and she saw such warmth and regret there that her heart ached. But then it was shuttered away and replaced with a quick smile. “Don’t faint on me now,” he said, teasing her a little as he guided her to a chair.
“But Eddie,” she exclaimed, trying to get up again and straining her neck to see what was happening. “Why hasn’t he come in yet?”
Aubrey put a restraining hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stop and look up at him as he crouched down. “Your brother ...” he began, his face grave. “He ... he had a fall, Violette. The doctor has seen him and believes there is no lasting damage, though he’s broken his arm and badly sprained his ankle, but he’s still unconscious.”
Violette gasped and looked around just as a crew of terrifying looking men carried in a litter on which the large figure of her brother was laid down.
“Eddie!” she called out, running over to him. The men paused, allowing her a moment to look down at his dear face and believe he really was here at last.
“B-but he’ll be alright?” she demanded, looking around until her face settled on that of a doctor.
“I believe so, Lady Greyston,” the doctor replied with a kind and reassuring smile. “He’s taken a bit of a knock to the head, but it doesn’t seem to be severe and his other injuries are nothing a big, fit man like this can’t survive with ease. He needs rest now, though.”
She nodded and stepped back to allow the men to move past her before turning to Lord Falmouth.
“I’ll never be able to repay you,” she said, wondering if they had a chance now, a chance to start their lives over. “Especially you, Mr Russell,” she added, offering Aubrey a smile that trembled a little as the reality of her brother truly being here began to sink in. “If ... if I’d never met you ...” she began, and then all the other implications of those words hit her, and she couldn’t speak anymore. Her throat seemed swollen with emotion and Aubrey’s handsome face blurred as tears gathered in her eyes. Aubrey was staring back at her with a look she couldn’t read, but he said nothing, and the moment seemed to stretch between them, with neither one of them able to look away.
“Come, Violette,” Celeste said, saving them both. “It is very late and you look exhausted. There is nothing you can do for your brother now; the doctor will take good care of ‘im. But you’ll want to see ‘im in the morning, so you should sleep now.”
Fussing and keeping up a gentle stream of chatter, Celeste guided Violette away and up the stairs. She was halfway up when she allowed herself to turn and glance back, to see that Aubrey watched her still.
***
It was another three days before Eddie woke, and at first, he was distressed and disorientated, until Violette came into the room.
She stared at him, at his usually glossy brown hair now matted and dirty, his square jaw unshaven and his face battered, but it was his eyes that had changed the most. There was something in his eyes, a darkness, a weight of experience, that she’d never seen before.
Those dark green eyes widened as he stared at her.
“Violette?” he said, his voice rough and a little unsure.
She beamed at him, her eyes filling and her throat so tight she could hardly reply, but she nodded and laughed. “Yes, Eddie,” she managed, before she ran to the bed and knelt beside it, holding his big, scarred hand to her cheek.
“Vi?” he said again, using the little nickname she’d always hated and scolded him for using. Today it sounded wonderful, though, and she just grinned at him.
“Yes, Eddie?”
He stared at her, as though he thought she couldn’t be real, and then gave an unsteady laugh. “Where the devil am I?”
It took some time for Violette to explain everything that had happened. Especially as Eddie would explode with fury at certain points in her story - generally when Lord Gabriel Greyston was mentioned - and it took her quite a lot of time and effort to calm him. It became abundantly clear to her, in a very short space of time, that her darling brother was going to be the most appallingly bad-tempered patient.
It seemed strange to her, as Eddie had always been such a placid soul. If anything, she’d always considered him lazy, as he was so slow to anger or to be provoked. She’d always believed he simply couldn’t be bothered to get angry as it took too much effort. He had been a laughing, smiling, and sometimes indolent man, who loved his friends and carousing and the occasional dashing adventure, and couldn’t be much bothered with anything of a serious nature.
As his little sister, she’d been indulged and spoilt and feted by him, and she’d adored him. Once their parents had gone, though, and he’d become her legal guardian, she’d often had cause to be impatient with him. He didn’t know what to do with a girl on the cusp of adulthood, and their relationship had become a little strained and more distant.
By the time she’d come to the end of her story, he was silent. His green eyes blazed with fury and guilt, and his big shoulders were taut.
“I’ll kill him,” he said.
The words were not said in rage however, which somehow made it all the more frightening. They were said with cold clarity, and she knew well that he meant it.
“Now, Eddie,” she said, her tone soothing. “First, we must get your title back, and Mr Russell has had the most wonderful idea,” she said, beaming at him as he turned suspicious eyes on her.
“Mr Russell?” he repeated.
“Yes, Eddie,” she said, feeling a tremor of unease at the tone of his voice. “You remember. He’s Lord Falmouth’s cousin, and the man who rescued me when I came to London.”
Eddie muttered an obscenity that made her cheeks heat, though she said nothing. They’d already had a furious row over her own actions which had ended in Violette demanding what exactly Eddie had expected her to do, when her darling brother had never changed Lord Gabriel Greyston’s guardianship in the event that anything should happen to him. The row had ended with him looking appalled and ashamed, but still mutinous.
“Anyway,” she said, ignoring his cursing with dignity. “Aub ... Mr Russell said that it would be best if you made a grand entrance at one of the largest events of the season
. That way, you’ll be seen by hundreds and hundreds of people all at the same time. It will also be dreadfully humiliating for Gabriel Greyston,” she added, which for her was the most wonderful part of the whole idea.
Eddie nodded, that part of the plan apparently gaining his approval.
“Fine,” he said, his tone dark. “Humiliate him first. Then kill him.”
“Oh, Eddie,” she said with impatience, pulling at his bedsheets and straightening them around him as he grimaced and snapped at her for fussing him. “Will you stop with this talk of killing him? No one is killing anybody,” she said, her tone severe, and tried hard to ignore the look in her brother’s eyes that said otherwise. “But you can tell me ... Oh, Eddie, where have you been all this time? Why didn’t you come home?”
He glanced at her and then looked away, shame in his eyes now.
“Why, Eddie?” she whispered, hearing in her own voice that of an abandoned child, left to fend in a world where she had no one to trust, no one to turn to.
He turned back to her, his dark green eyes full of turmoil and regret. “I don’t know, Vi,” he said, sounding so broken that she reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it tight. “I don’t know.”
Chapter 13
“Wherein two ladies cause a stir.”
Violette came down the stairs and flopped onto the settee with a weary sigh. She met Celeste’s eyes as she turned from her position at the window, staring out at grey streets, grey clouds and sheets of cold, grey rain.
“Merde!” Celeste cried, shocking Violette, who still hadn’t become accustomed to her rather expansive vocabulary of gros mots. “I declare, if I ‘ave to spend one more day in this ‘ouse with nothing to do, I shall run mad!”
“I’m so sorry,” Violette replied, feeling dreadfully guilty. The Falmouths had not entertained at all this season, as the doctor, concerned by her brother’s mental health, had decreed that he must be kept in the quietest surroundings.
“Oh, non!” Celeste replied, covering her mouth with her hand and looking horrified. “I did not mean that, Violette. I am very ‘appy to ‘ave you with me, and your brother is a war ‘ero. I ‘ave no regrets at ‘aving you both ‘ere. It is just this rain ... days and days of rain. It makes me cross, you see?”
Nearly Ruining Mr Russell (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 5) Page 11