by Merry Farmer
Danny appreciated the quip, but he shook his head and pinched his face. “No, no, I’m not playing around. What would you say I am?”
Tuttle took on a more thoughtful look. “You’re a businessman. A shrewd one at that. You’re one of the new model of magnate, like Rothschild or Rhodes, or even some of those Americans, like Rockefeller or Morgan.”
Danny took a step back, shocked at how flattered he felt at the comparison. “I am rather like those men, aren’t I,” he said with a smile.
“Was there ever any doubt?” Tuttle laughed.
“You would be surprised,” Danny said, shaking his head. “I was surprised myself.”
Tuttle’s grin turned knowing. “Does this have anything to do with your lovely fiancée?”
Danny let out a sigh, his momentary good mood dropping. “I honestly don’t know if she still wants to marry me, after the squabble we got into.”
Tuttle looked surprised. “Why would any woman not want to marry you?”
“Because I’m a loud, crass fool who couldn’t keep his mouth shut when he should have and who failed to say the things I actually should have said sooner?”
Tuttle shook his head. “You’ve far more endearing qualities than you think you do. I would be gobsmacked if Lady Phoebe came anything close to turning her back on you now.”
“I wish I could be so sure,” Danny grumbled, rubbing his face and falling back into pacing. “Something wasn’t right about our conversation this morning. Her mother was acting oddly too.”
Tuttle laughed outright. “I would bet that her mother acts oddly the majority of the time.”
Danny shared Tuttle’s wry humor for a moment, but it didn’t put him at ease. “No, I feel like she was even stranger than usual this morning. Like she knew something I didn’t.”
His thoughts had to rest there. The door to the committee room opened, and a clerk gestured for him and Tuttle to come inside. Danny leapt into action, practically bursting through the door. The dozen or so grey-haired, stuffed shirt gentlemen who sat around a long table reacted to his enthusiasm with surprise, but at least they didn’t growl and sniff and demand for him to be thrown out.
Danny grabbed hold of that, and of everything Phoebe had said to him that morning, and stood before the table as though he owned it and everyone in the room. “Gentlemen, I trust you have made your decision.”
“We have, Mr. Long,” the MP at the head of the table said with a satisfied grin. “I won’t waste any of your time by making long speeches. Of all the proposals this committee has received, yours was by far the most intriguing. The architectural plans you presented us with were top-notch. Your financial reckoning was sound and well thought out. Your history of development and other projects throughout the city is impressive. In short, sir, the committee felt as though we would be fools not to accept your proposal and grant this development deal to Long Property Ventures.”
The other men around the table looked just as pleased as the speaker. They nodded and smiled, and one man even applauded. Danny let out a breath of relief. It felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. What could be more encouraging than a vote of confidence from Parliament?
“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said, unable to keep his smile inside. “Thank you a thousand times over. I won’t disappoint you.”
“We do have several business details we’d like to work out, if you wouldn’t mind,” another of the men at the table said.
“I will be conducting all the particulars of business for Mr. Long,” Tuttle said, stepping up to the table and taking an empty seat as though he were every bit as superior as the men he was sitting down with. Danny had to admire his style. If Tuttle could do it, why couldn’t he?
He did what he needed to do to assist Tuttle in the preliminary round of business negotiations, but the moment the decision was announced, Danny’s thoughts were a hundred miles away. Not a hundred, he decided as he left the committee room and headed toward the stairs and the lobby, only about two or three. He had to find Phoebe so that he could tell her everything had worked out for the best after all. He would tell her he loved her, propose to her all over again if he had to, and pledge every last bit of himself to her in perpetuity. And he would gloat at how Cosgrove hadn’t had the balls to step up and oppose him at the last minute after all.
“—really marrying her at the last minute?”
Danny caught the edge of a conversation as he made his way through the lobby. He wouldn’t have noticed or cared, except that the two men conversing seemed so surprised.
“Who ever thought that old Cosgrove would marry at all?” one of them said.
Danny skidded to a stop, turning to the men.
“I bet Darlington arranged it before he kicked off,” the first one said. “That would have been the sort of thing he’d do.”
“The Darlingtons and the Cosgroves have been close for generations,” the first one agreed.
“Excuse me, what?” Danny barged into their conversation.
The two men looked as alarmed by Danny’s appearance as they were to be interrupted.
“Lord Cosgrove is getting married,” the first man said.
“When?” Danny demanded. “To who?”
“Right now,” the second man said. “Which is why it’s so noteworthy.”
“Who, man who?” Danny wanted to grab the man by his suit and shake him. He had a horrible feeling he knew the answer, a horrible feeling that Cosgrove had bested him after all, and in something that mattered far more to him than any land deal ever would.
“To Lady Darlington,” the first man said. “You know he’s—”
“Where is the wedding taking place?” Danny boomed over him, his heart shattering to pieces. He’d been such a fool to chase after a silly business deal instead of what really mattered. He should have stayed with Phoebe that morning and worked things out. He couldn’t bear the thought that he might be too late to stop her from doing something she would regret for the rest of her life, and that he would regret too.
The two gentlemen were beyond startled. They gaped and cowered in the face of Danny’s overwhelming energy. “St. Margaret’s Church,” the first one stammered. “Just across from Westminster.”
It was all Danny needed to hear, all he was able to hear. He tore away from the men, sprinting for the door and out to the street. There was no telling how much time he had. He ran as fast as he could, dodging nobs and office boys alike. He didn’t care who they were, and they didn’t care who he was. All he knew was that if he didn’t stop Phoebe from marrying Cosgrove, his life wouldn’t be worth a damn.
Chapter 20
“No, no. Don’t put those flowers there, put them over here,” Phoebe’s mother said, practically flapping her arms due to the level of her exuberance. “They need to be positioned just so. Everything needs to be perfect.”
“Fine, Mama.” Phoebe sighed, picked up the small vase of flowers that had been set on the front of the chancel in St. Margaret’s, and started to carry them across to the first pew.
“Ladies, you look delightful.” Lord Cosgrove stepped out of the small chamber to the side of the chancel, beaming as though it was his coronation day, not his wedding day. “You’ve made me the happiest man in England.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes and stared warily at him. “It is all my mother’s doing,” she said, nodding to her mother, who skipped up to Lord Cosgrove’s side like a woman half her age. At least it was cheering to see her mother in good spirits for the first time in years.
The vicar, who had been waiting impatiently by the altar as last-minute adjustments and fusses were made, cleared his throat. “Are we ready to begin?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes, indeed,” Phoebe’s mother said. “Phoebe. Come stand right here.”
Phoebe still had the vase of flowers in her hand, but her mother’s flapping had reached dangerous levels, so she held onto the flowers as she marched up to stand by Lord Cosgrove’s side.
&nbs
p; The vicar smiled tightly and opened his prayer book. “Dearly beloved,” he began. “We are gathered here today—”
“No!”
Phoebe would have recognized Danny’s bellowing shout anywhere in the world and in the dark. She, her mother, and Lord Cosgrove whipped around to see him charging into the chapel, his eyes wide with horror. His curly hair was tousled, and his face was red and sweating, as if he’d run all the way there from the moon. He continued to run up the aisle, barely bothering to skid to a stop as he reached the chancel.
“No, Phoebe, I won’t let you do this,” he panted. He grabbed the flowers from her hands and dumped them to the side. The crash of the vase made Phoebe jump and her mother shriek in alarm. Danny grabbed her hands.
“I won’t let you marry him,” he blustered on. “You don’t love him, you love me. And I love you.”
“Danny—”
“I know that it was wrong of me not to tell you about your inheritance,” he charged over her, desperation in every aspect of his features. “I know I should have told you more about my own fortune as well. There are so many things that I should have done differently. If I could go back and change the way things unfolded between us, I would.”
“Danny, I—”
“But I wouldn’t have changed the way I fell in love with you, not for the world,” he continued, squeezing her hands. “I wouldn’t care if you really were a shop girl, just as I would hope you wouldn’t care if I were nothing more than a pub owner.”
“I don’t care, but—”
“And it breaks my heart to think of the way you’ve been treated, and by the very people who should have come to your aid.”
He glanced to her mother and Lord Cosgrove with a glare that was sharp enough to scold the entire aristocracy. Her mother and Lord Cosgrove, and the vicar, only stood there, mouths open in shock.
“But this is not the answer, love,” Danny roared on. “You can’t marry Cosgrove now, you just can’t. I know you want to be accepted by the very people who rejected you and to take charge of your own life again. I know you’re angry with me for being a bull-headed dolt, and too loud to boot. But marrying a man I know you despise, even if that gives you status and a title and legitimacy in the eyes of society, will only make you miserable.”
“But I’m not—”
“It would make me miserable as well,” Danny went on, shifting to draw her into his arms, plying her body against his. “I couldn’t bear to see you in another man’s arms, as another man’s wife. I love you with my whole heart and my entire body. I would gladly sign over everything I have to you, hand you the reins of my entire business empire. I’ll dress you in silks and furs and jewels and let you parade in front of all of the nobs we can find to show them how wonderful and valuable you are. Just say you won’t marry this bit of excrement, say you’ll—”
“Daniel Long, will you please shut up for one second,” Phoebe bellowed, slapping a hand over his mouth.
Danny went rigid in her arms, his eyes wide and his mouth still open under her hand. She could feel his heart beating furiously against her chest as they pressed together, and his shoulders rose and fell with panting breaths.
“I’m not marrying Lord Cosgrove,” she told him, hand still over his mouth, glaring at him. “I’m engaged to you.”
“You are?” he mumbled behind her hand.
She wanted to laugh. “You were the one who asked me, or do you not remember?”
She dropped her hand so that he could say, “I thought…after the tea party…you were angry…I assumed….”
Phoebe let out a frustrated sound and rolled her eyes, but through her anger and irritation with him, her heart swelled with affection. “Good God, man. If you think that one argument would drive us apart, if you think that we won’t have even more arguments in what I sincerely hope is a long and interesting life together, then perhaps you are the one who isn’t ready to be married.”
“No, I am, I am,” he insisted, as energetic and earnest as a child as he clutched her tighter. “But you were so furious.”
“And I had every right to be,” Phoebe laughed. “But I’ve never been fickle. Not like some of the ladies of my former acquaintance. Ladies whom I have no interest in spending so much as a second of my time with, nor in being accounted as one of them. That life is behind me, and good riddance.”
“Phoebe,” her mother hissed, scolding. “How could you?”
Danny continued to gape at Phoebe. He blinked. “But you’re marrying Cosgrove. I heard them talking about it up in Whitehall just now.”
Phoebe started. “They were talking about it in Whitehall?” It astounded her how swiftly gossip spread.
“I heard two gents talking about how Lord Cosgrove was marrying Lady Darlington,” Danny said, confusion making him appear almost comical.
Phoebe pressed her lips together and stared flatly at him. “For the last time, Danny. I am Lady Phoebe. My mother is Lady Darlington.”
“I would be Lady Cosgrove already if you hadn’t barged in with all your crass, flailing nonsense,” Phoebe’s mother snapped.
Danny looked as though he’d been hit in the head with a rotten cabbage. “You’re marrying Cosgrove?” he asked incredulously.
“We’ve become quite close in the last few weeks,” her mother said, taking Lord Cosgrove’s arm and inching closer to him. “It seems in all my negotiating to convince dear Richard to marry Phoebe, I have fallen in love with him myself, and vice versa.” She simpered up at Lord Cosgrove, who smiled tightly at her in return.
“I have agreed to let the two of them live at Credenhill Grange,” Phoebe murmured so that only Danny could hear.
“You what?” Danny’s confusion grew.
Phoebe sighed, glanced over her shoulder at her mother and Lord Cosgrove, then broke away from Danny to draw him over to the side of the room and well out of her mother’s earshot.
“When Lord Cosgrove dropped his interest in your Earl’s Court deal so swiftly, I suspected something wasn’t right,” she explained quickly. “The only way a man would agree to give up a business venture that stood to make him a great deal of money would be if he didn’t actually have the ability to see the deal through.”
Danny nodded as though following her line of logic.
“It dawned on me that he was relying on the income from Credenhill Grange to finance his development plans, but that if I didn’t marry him—which he must have accepted I would never do—he wouldn’t be able to complete his business.”
“That…that makes perfect sense and is an astoundingly astute bit of reasoning.” Danny grinned at her.
“Further,” Phoebe went on, sending a glance to the altar and the three people who stood there, watching them, “it occurred to me that perhaps one of the reasons Lord Cosgrove was so eager to marry a woman with an estate to her name was because his own was in jeopardy.”
“Is it?” Danny asked.
She leaned close and whispered, “Natalia says that he has been forced to sell his estate and that the sale just recently went through.”
“So the man is homeless?” Danny’s confusion began to clear.
“He has his London townhouse, but men like Lord Cosgrove need to lord over an estate,” Phoebe explained. “So I offered to have him and Mama live at Credenhill Grange and to manage the place.”
Danny’s expression darkened. “You would be all right with an arsonist and a liar living on your family estate and marrying your mother?”
“If it gets my mother out of London and out of our business, then yes. A thousand times, yes,” Phoebe said, staring pointedly at him. “Besides which, I have very few fond memories of Credenhill, and if I never visit the place again, it will be too soon.”
Danny stared at her for a minute. Then his expression slowly spread into a grin. That grin burst into a full smile, and he laughed. “I swear to God, Phoebe Darlington, you are the most wonderful creature I have ever met in my life.”
He swept her into his arms,
spinning her in a mad circle before setting her on her feet and slanting his mouth over hers. He kissed her so thoroughly and with so much passion that Phoebe forgot she was in a church and that her mother, Lord Cosgrove, and the vicar were watching. It was glorious and giddy. Phoebe couldn’t help but laugh, even as her cheeks burned with sheepishness, knowing they were being observed.
“I’m still angry with you,” she gasped once Danny let her go. “You behaved frightfully.”
“I know, I know,” Danny said, warm and foolish, sliding his hands over her sides in a way that was entirely inappropriate for a church. “But you love me for it.”
“I do,” Phoebe admitted with a sardonic look.
Behind them, the vicar cleared his throat. “If you please, could we continue with this ceremony? I have a baptism at noon.”
“He has a baptism at noon,” Danny whispered, taking Phoebe’s hand and walking to the altar with her. “Well?” he bellowed, gesturing to Phoebe’s mother and Lord Cosgrove. “Get on with it.”
“You are utterly impossible,” Phoebe muttered, shaking her head, as the vicar continued with the ceremony.
Not that Phoebe could pay attention to the ceremony or any of the congratulations and details once the marriage was complete. She and Danny ended up serving as witnesses when the documents were signed, but all she could think about was that it would be her turn soon, and what a wild adventure her life with Danny would be.
“Do you think that your mother will truly be content with a life in the country?” Danny asked as the two of them waved her mother and Lord Cosgrove off in the hired cab they’d managed to hail. A cab Danny paid for, of course.
“Oh, not in the least,” Phoebe said, clutching his arm as they meandered down the street, looking for another cab that could take them home. As they were directly across from the Palace of Westminster, it didn’t take long to hail one. “Mama will attempt to lord it over our old neighbors, but they all know how wretched my father was. They’re likely to hear the entire story of how Mama came to rule over the estate again, and they’ll shun her just as thoroughly as they have all along.”