George stood when she entered and crossed to her after he looked her over. “You look as if someone stole all the color from you.”
The room looked as she felt. Drab, worn, old. The carpets were nearly threadbare. One of the sofas was held up by several books. The paper on the walls had faded to a sickly yellow blobbed with a pattern that could no longer be identified. Even the glass in one of the frames was cracked. Whatever did he see in her?
“I’m not feeling well,” she said.
“My cousin, Henry,” George said, walking with her to the settee and sitting next to her, “is an interesting and dangerous fellow. Did you know that he once had a pirate ship in the mortal realm? He tracked down Kendawyner pirates that were preying on mortals and cleaned up their seas. From our pirates at least, and a few of the worst of theirs.”
“Oh,” she said without interest but knowing she should be confused and intrigued.
“So when he realized that the female who I am pursuing was being harassed by another—well, he lived so long as a pirate.”
Her eyes fixated on his face with its strong jaw line, a slight shadow of stubble, brilliant eyes that shone with emotions she wasn’t ready to understand and feel.
Her head tilted as she realized what George had said. “What did your cousin do to Mr. Pallister?”
“Well, it turns out that Mr. Pallister was willing to confess what he’d threatened you with—once properly persuaded.”
Phoebe pressed her lips together, refusing to reply. Her world was being set on fire, going up…
“And that he dared to blackmail you into marrying him. I find that it is best that Merlin is in Henry’s very-not-gentle-hands rather than my own. I sometimes forget my limits.”
A tear slipped down her face, but it came from the eye that was turned away from his gaze. No, she would not cry. She had not placed all on the line to be a whimpering nitwit now. She was going to fight and win and remember that for good or ill, she’d made the best choice she could make.
“I…”
He realized she was crying when her voice cracked. Resolutions were so much harder to persuade yourself to feel when you were exhausted and on the defensive.
“No,” he said. “No, please don’t. May I tell you that I already knew and admired that you’d seen to your own security?”
She stared at him, pressing fluttering fingers to her cheeks. She felt as though she had been aboard ship and someone had yanked it out from under her, leaving her feet above water, ready to fall.
“May I tell you that my brother, Oliver, realized and is even now tracking where this leak is coming from and resolving it?”
She took a jagged breath. There was really only one source for the leak. She didn’t need him to rescue her, she thought. Her tears dried up as she realized that was stepping forward without her consent. Her eyes narrowed.
“Phoebe, darling, I was first mate on a pirate ship to make my fortune, to Henry. We, with a few others of our pack, didn’t receive sufficient inheritances to see us through a millennia without some sort of income. We pirated. Phoebe, my darling, running a shop full of little treasures—that’s so much better.”
Phoebe cleared her throat as his revelation adjusted her thinking. He had been a pirate? In the mortal realm? He’d done what?
“May I ask you to trust Oliver and Henry to keep your secret and make sure it continues to be kept by others.”
No, she thought, she would be resolving that herself—but—she might take the help of pirates. She imagined they were handy fellows.
“And may I ask you to just give me a chance? Dance with me, come to the opera? Go to balls, and Vauxhallery, and for an afternoon on my yacht?”
“What do you want in the end?” She needed utter clarity.
“Your heart. Your hand. And a way to steal Rodger from your brother and his wife.”
She laughed. It was startled out of her.
“Do you think we can just buy him off them?” He was so earnest in that question. But she was not up for trade.
“Yes,” she said, flushing with the shame of it. But yes, they would be able to do just that.
“That is terrible and convenient,” he said, daring to kiss her forehead. “But for now, shall we just get to know each other better?”
“I’m not going to allow you helping me to color my decisions in the end.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, they were golden with emotion. “I know that.”
“I’m sorry, but I had to say it.”
His eyes were dark again when he said, “I understand, and I would like you to give me a chance. A real chance. That is all. Is that acceptable?”
She nodded, smiling a smile up at him that warmed her heart and lightened the pain behind her eyes. She wanted to place her head on his shoulder and enjoy the strength of him, but…
She wasn’t ready for that yet. Or anything else that went with the offer he was making. She had to be sure, utterly and completely sure, and this afternoon had made her see just how very blind she could be. If she’d been so wrong about Mr. Pallister—was she being blind about George as well?
Henry and Oliver were in their corner at Bane’s when George arrived.
“How’s your lady,” Henry asked, stretching out his bad leg. He must have just seated himself for he’d yet to prop his cane against his chair.
“Fragile, I think,” George said and then realized how wrong those words were. She was angry, furious, the light of battle lit her eyes, and she was frustrated. Frustrated and tired, but not fragile.
“It’s a secret she’s kept about a hundred years. Makes sense she’d be a bit tense,” Henry sighed. “Smarter than us really. She just did what she needed to do and never said a word.”
“Someone’s talking,” George’s brother, Oliver, said. “I don’t like it.”
The three of them, George, Henry, and Oliver, were variations of the same pattern. They were all tall with Oliver topping them out. George was slender. Henry the stockiest of them. They all had dark hair, shining eyes, and a veneer of utter assurance. Henry’s was covered by the joke of the pirate. The reality of his piracy, hidden behind his gold hoop and limp, was that he’d cleaned the mortal realm of supernatural pirates. He’d done it efficiently and violently.
Few ever realized that he was capable of violence with his thick, lazy drawl. He looked very like the two brothers, except Henry’s hair had a golden, sun-kissed edge, and his eyes were light, golden brown instead of the dark depths of Oliver and George.
George had helped Henry with his pirate mission in the mortal world. He’d gone, originally, to keep Henry alive. Henry, George, and their good friend, Devlin had been inseparable in school. Together they and a few others from the pack had made the venture—and the fortune. But Henry had been their unchallenged leader in the mortal realm. It was his demons that had driven him to the mortal world and it was their love for Henry that had the others following. That and the need to support their long lives on very little money.
None had that same worry now.
Oliver, on the other hand, was just what one would expect of a ton noble. The Baron Stanwullf, he had been privileged beyond Henry and George. They were all relatives, but Oliver’s title had given him more respect and more responsibility. George, as Oliver’s younger brother, had been able to get into far more trouble than the eldest son. Henry—another younger son—had been born in trouble. His coat was perfectly cut, the ring on his finger was a signet ring but he had another on his pinky with a large dark stone. He was—the essence of the ton. Both in manner and in history.
“I don’t care for it myself,” Henry added. “Her partner?”
“Could be,” Oliver said. “There can’t be that many people who’ve known. But the man must have been keeping the secret all this time. Maybe a family member realized. Rhys said they were challenging. But…she’s going to let us track things down?”
“Please,” George replied, “she’d have c
lawed off Pallister’s face with just a slightly larger push or less of an audience. She’s already plotting and planning for herself.”
“You need a handle on her,” Oliver said. He leaned back, dark eyes glinting with laughter and fury at the same time. His hair was unkempt and his jaw was tight. He took a slow sip of his whiskey before he said, “You’re the man.”
“I don’t want a toy or a doll,” George said. “And if you think that’s what a mate is, you’re a foolish lad instead of my elder brother.”
“And blind,” Henry said. “My trouble should have shown you that.”
The other two were silence for a moment, for Henry had long since been in love and unable to persuade his love to entrust herself and her fate to bind with his.
“He’ll learn,” George said. There was a knowing look on his face as he said it. The type that parents give those who don’t have children and those in couples give a single man or woman. George almost hated himself for it even as he caught Henry’s gaze and grinned. “Oliver will fall hard.”
“It’ll be a delightful show when he plummets into love,” Henry said. He rubbed his jaw and had no sympathy as he gazed at Oliver.
“Shall we curse him with a long chase?” George asked, watching his brother squirm as Henry and George gave him the same piratical glances.
“Please, don’t,” Oliver said, meaning it. This wasn’t the mortal realm. A well-placed curse could affect the very course of a life.
“Not that cruel,” Henry answered, and George shifted uncomfortably. He’d been well aware of his love for Phoebe for long weeks. Long enough to be sure she was the one for him—but nothing like the aching that Henry had done for his love—it had literally been over a century and few were as stubborn as Henry in his love. For anyone else, it would have faded into nothing.
“What’s the plan then, Captain,” Henry asked. He had been the captain once upon a time, in the mortal world, with pirates and outlaws. It was not a phrase he used lightly.
“Oliver, ask your man how he found out,” George said. “We’ll take a multi-pronged approach. There’s no way that Phoebe’s plan is anything other than brazening out and buying people off. We’ll enlist the members of the family to help with that, we’ll track the source, destroy Merlin financially, and should that be insufficient, we’ll provide a distraction that will shock everyone into discussing nothing else.”
“Ooooh,” Henry drawled, “pick me for that.”
“Wait,” Oliver ordered, “until it is necessary. I can see you planning already and whatever crime you are going to commit can be delayed until no other options are possible.”
“Oh,” Henry said, “I’ve been planning something for a while now. Also, lad,” the word was said with such overt threat that Oliver growled, “I am not yours to command.”
Before a challenge could actually take place between the two, George cleared his throat and refilled glasses. Thankfully, a servant approached right then with a letter that he held out to Henry, who took it and read it quickly.
“It’s from Wolfemuir,” he said, referring to their cousin and their pack leader.
Henry paled as he read, making his cousins sit forward with anxiety regarding the contents of the letter. “Hugh’s been shot. I have to go. He wants at least two of us.”
George froze, waiting to hear the worst.
“Is he all right?” Oliver demanded.
“Yes, someone hid him and is caring for him. He’s all right for now. But Wolfemuir says we’re to go get Hugh and bring him home and track down the scalawag. I intend to keelhaul whoever did this. Or possibly just maim and then kill.”
“Why only two?” George asked, completely torn. He couldn’t possibly leave Phoebe and yet…the group of cousins—born so fortunately close together for their generation—were as close as brothers.
“He said he didn’t want to draw attention to Hugh’s location. I assume we’re swooping in, picking him up, and getting him out.”
“I’d prefer a platoon of the pack,” Oliver said, standing. “But you’ll stay, George. You have to protect Phoebe. I’ll go with Henry. Hugh will be fine.”
People just weren’t shot in Kendawyn. They lived under the social strictures they did by choice. People who wanted to live outside of Kendawyn’s ways didn’t linger in the cities. They visited the mortal realm and came home to renew their magic before returning again. In addition, some random bystander would never threaten the Wolfemuir pack—they were large, and though not the highest ranked of the packs, they were certainly one of, if not the, most powerful pack.
“We’ll take this,” Oliver said. He waved a servant over and scratched out a quick note. “My man of business, Pratt, will do what you need, George.”
“Take care of Hugh.” George said, tortured by the need to go and the need to stay. But there was no real choice—he would never leave Phoebe until he had a better handle on Pallister.
“We will,” Henry swore, speaking over his shoulder, already heading towards his only brother. Henry was jovial, he spoke with a lilt to his voice, he walked with a limp—and of all the cousins, he was the one that the non-Wolfemuir liked the most. Henry was good company, always ready with a joke, always burying his deep feeling so none could see them or see past the jolly pirate affectation. And he was the one who was most likely to stab a fellow in the back—of them all, only Wolfemuir himself was more dangerous.
“Well, my lad,” George told himself, looking around and realizing that he’d been abandoned. Well, not that…his brother and cousin had taken over where he could not. Hugh was all right. Wolfemuir would allow nothing to happen to Hugh now that the trouble was known. Leaving George free to help his Phoebe. And persuade her to love him.
He leaned his head back against the chair, closed his eyes, and considered until the voice of his best friend broke through the low murmur of voices that came from other tables.
“So, Henry brushed past me like he was being chased by the hounds of hell.” Devlin St. Claire sat across from George. He took the left-behind glass of cognac without a qualm and said, “Been looking for you. Why is Merlin Pallister trying to cause you trouble? I saw him at Red’s blathering about you to some grubby country bloke who has yet to learn that Pallister is best to be avoided. What the hell is going on?”
George, eyes open only a crack, didn’t know quite how to respond. He trusted Devlin with his life and knew that Phoebe would never be happy if she found out George was telling her tale. His friend sipped the golden liquid, seemingly unconcerned. With Devlin boredom was an act covering restless energy. Few would recognize the outlet of a single finger tapping relentlessly and in a near blur against the crystal glass.
George was one of the few and could not leave his friend on edge.
“I’m in love. Hugh’s been shot. Henry’s been on edge. He actually said something about contemplating a crime which, knowing Henry, means he’s only waiting for the chance to make his pirate legend shine. Again. And Merlin Pallister thinks that he can blackmail my love into marrying him instead of me.”
Devlin took another sip of the cognac before calmly saying, “I assume that Hugh is all right since you’re here.”
George nodded. “Rhys is on the job. He’d have a fleet of healers flying to Hugh if that was necessary. It was not.”
“When did you fall in love?” The words were casual, as was the tone, as was everything but that finger that moved so quickly even George had a hard time seeing it.
He gave his friend the truth Devlin deserved. “I don’t know. It hit me all at once, but it’s been growing for a month or two.”
“Love takes time is what you’ve told Henry for years.” Devlin leaned back, a slight smirk on his face, finger suddenly at rest. He teased because he was happy. Devlin was as controlled and urbane as George. They were the vampire and werewolf equivalents. Powerful, controlled, smooth, clever, and the best of friends. Devlin was tall, slender, golden, and handsome beyond belief. George was his dark, wolf coun
terpart. Dark to Devlin’s gold. Handsome in the same vein.
“Love does take time,” George said. “I think perhaps less time if one is ready to love and finds their match. Henry was too young and with too much opposition to overcome things so easily.”
“What do you love about her?” Devlin examined George as if the reply would be catalogued and journaled.
It probably would be, George thought, knowing how Devlin kept such careful records during their ship days. Such pale words for tracking Kendawyner pirates in the mortal world. He shook off the memory and considered Devlin’s question.
George scowled as he thought, feelings rising within him, and he didn’t want something so tender to be catalogued.
“Please,” Devlin said simply. “Tell me what you love.”
It was the please that convinced George. That and the knowledge that Devlin could be trust in all things. “The way she loves her nephew, the way she smells the flowers, her laugh. I don’t know. She just fits inside my heart.”
“And what will you do about Pallister?” Devlin’s question carried the tone that no matter what George decided—Devlin would help.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to disembowel him. It seems insane to say it…”
“But we hunted pirates once,” Devlin said. The chill in his tone said that their actions and that life—so carefully boxed away—bothered him as well.
“Indeed we did,” George said. “I’d like those days to be behind me. And they were until Pallister scared Phoebe. It was as if a demon rose up inside of me that I was certain had been expelled. I don’t want to be that man again.”
“No, indeed not,” Devlin said. “We choose to live the way we do in Kendawyn because what happened in the mortal realm is too likely among our kind. We box ourselves for our own good and the good of our children. You, me, Henry, the others. We did what we had to with the pirates. Someone had to stop our kind among the mortals. But, we’re not the same as we were before those days. We’re capable of things that our pretty little ladies cannot imagine.”
Bewildered by Love (Kendawyn Paranormal Regency) Page 5