God, but he hated bullies.
And this from a brother? For all the conflict and fights he’d had with his own siblings, he’d never dream of attacking one of them so personally. Cutting with the razor’s edge of disdain.
He wanted to go to her, comfort her.
Pummel the brother, whichever one it was, who dared to speak to her so. Shane most likely, given what he’d heard from her before and seen with his own eyes. But she was doing just fine on her own, he heard. Delivering a set down so cool, it should have had the man at his knees. He could hear the shock in Shane’s voice, then the pleading.
Bravo, lass.
She’d come into her own.
His job was done. But he wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.
Banks indicated that James should follow him. On the way up the stairs, he saw Shane burst from one of the rooms and begin a sulking descent toward him. James slowed as Shane did when he neared, Shane glowering at him hatefully. James’s glare was none too friendly either.
“You take advantage of my sister and I’ll kill you,” he hissed, coming to a halt halfway down the stairs. “You hear me?”
“My intentions are entirely honorable,” James replied smoothly. “I mean to marry her.”
Shane’s laughter was harsh and mocking. “Right. Have you got her believing that as well?” He nudged James’s shoulder much as Leachman had done at the Harkness Ball.
“Do not,” James cautioned, standing firm, his voice tight with anger. “You will not like where it leads.”
The butler’s steps had lagged. He paused midpoint of the stairs, clearly wondering what to do.
“You think you can best me?”
“You are brimming with bravado, aren’t you?” James sneered, knocking his arm away. “If your sister doesn’t see a profound apology for the rudeness I overheard by morning, I can assure you, we’ll find out.”
“How about right now?”
James’s hands fisted tightly. It would be his sincere pleasure to go a round or two with Shane Aston and show him how to back up a threat.
The butler paused at the top of the stairs, wringing his hands worriedly. He feared a fight in his home. James didn’t blame him. One was brewing, but then Prim stepped out into the hall behind Banks, and some of James’s anger slipped away.
“As much as I would like to accommodate you, I must decline,” he snarled. “For some reason I cannot fathom, your sister loves you. I wouldn’t like to upset her by putting you in the hospital.”
Though if he found out Shane spoke to Prim like that again, all the sibling love in the world wouldn’t stop him.
“I’d heard you were an unbelievable bastard.”
“Nay, I’m a dangerous bastard,” James promised vehemently. “And believe me, I’d enjoy thrashing you soundly for all the misery you’ve brought Prim.”
Shane laughed again, hurrying down the stairs. “I’d enjoy thrashing you just for the hell of it.”
* * *
Prim heard the threat and saw the fury on James’s face. Feral and chilling. She feared there’d be blood spilt for sure. Then he’d looked up at her, his expression softening. She couldn’t make out the words that followed but for her brother’s parting remark.
What a hothead he’d become.
James climbed the remainder of the stairs, his eyes never leaving her face. Finally he reached her, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw gently. Then to her surprise, he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight.
“Are you all right?”
She was now.
Prim nodded mutely against his chest. Yes, she was. In that moment, in his strong arms, all was right in the world.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Only my feelings.”
His arms tensed, squeezing the breath from her for a moment. “He’ll regret that.”
A bubble of laughter welled up in her chest. Of course James would rush to her defense, as chivalrous as he was. But she didn’t need a knight in shining armor. She was becoming quite skilled at handling her own problems.
Because he’d taken up her cause. Making more of her need to rid herself of an unwelcome suitor than she’d originally bargained for. She’d never be able to thank him enough.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I wanted to see you.”
“Just that?” she asked in surprise.
“Aye, isn’t that enough?”
Prim stared up at him. His green eyes were warm and deep, filled with the desire she’d seen the night before and something more. She knew he’d come to care for her, his short courtship had sparked what she saw as real friendship between them. But he seemed to possess a true affection for her, as a person and not simply a project.
Shaking the thought away, Prim steeled herself against entertaining any hope he might be thinking to court her in truth. It wasn’t what he wanted, though she was coming to want it more and more. To wonder what marriage to him might bring rather than take away from her.
James didn’t help matters when he bent his head, brushing his lips across hers. That kiss had nothing to do with lust and hunger, she’d swear it didn’t.
No, he wasn’t helping at all.
“Hey, there. What is this?”
* * *
The outrage in the male voice had James taking a step back. Behind Prim stood the blond man he’d once mistaken as her possible lover, but now, up close, he could see the family resemblance.
“You must be Dennis,” he said, holding out his hand.
Dennis nodded and grasped his hand firmly. After a brief shake, he held on a moment longer, staring James straight in the eye. Assessing him, reading him. Searching for what, James wasn’t certain, though he met the gaze steadily.
After a few seconds, Dennis released his hand. Without thought, James turned back to Prim. Her hyacinth eyes were wide with trepidation, as if she expected another exchange of unpleasant words. Or worse. Taking her hand, he gave her a reassuring squeeze and a wink.
“I’ll be damned.”
They both turned at the astonishment in Dennis’s voice.
“What?” Prim asked her brother.
Dennis grinned broadly, rocking back on his heels. To James’s eyes, he appeared mighty pleased with himself, though James was as lost to the reason as Prim.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Her brother bent to kiss her cheek and shook James’s hand again. “Good to meet you at last, MacKintosh. Sis, I’ll see you for Christmas dinner?”
“Where else would you spend it?” she asked sarcastically.
Dennis trotted down the stairs, whistling to himself. Puzzled, James watched him go then turned back to Prim.
“What was that all about?”
“I have no idea.” She shook her head and led the way back into the room she’d come from.
To James’s surprise, it was a study. An ornate mahogany desk dominated the center of the room with dozens of sheets of paper and folders scattered across the top of it.
“I am glad you came,” she said, trailing a finger across the desktop as she circled it. “I was trying to compose a note to you earlier, inviting you for Christmas Eve here with me and the children. It hinted at the ridiculous to write a formal invitation after...well.”
Her cheeks blossomed beautifully, though she ducked her head quickly and turned away to hide her embarrassment. She had the right of it though. How was one to write out anything as staid as an invitation to dinner on Christmas Eve after the pure carnality of their encounter in the carriage?
How was he to have a civil conversation with her when all he wanted to do was kiss her senseless? Or bend her over that desk and have his way with her.
Her gaze followed his to the desk, and as if she could read his thoughts, her blush crept up her neck.
“Will you come?” she asked, fiddling nervously with a fountain pen. “For dinner?” she added, when he managed nothing more than a muted stare. “On Christmas Eve? I thought afterward,
we could light the tree for the children and maybe sing a few carols.”
James hadn’t done any of those things since leaving Scotland. Maggie had tried to have him join her family, her brother or Astor cousins, since he’d been here, but he’d turned down her offers. Preferring what? The misery of his own company?
“No brothers?”
“Not one,” she told him. “I promise.”
“How did you manage that?”
“I told them I wanted to spend the evening alone with the children.” She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. “I’m sorry. You must be disappointed with me.”
“Never.”
“I only did so because I was afraid they might insist on being here to chaperone if they knew you were coming,” she told him. “I didn’t want them to ruin it.”
“For the children?”
“For us.”
Chapter 26
I declare to you that woman must not depend upon the protection of man, but must be taught to protect herself, and there I take my stand.
~ Susan B. Anthony
Those two tiny words filled James with satisfaction. He fiddled with the jeweler’s box in his pocket, the engagement ring he’d bought from Tiffany & Co. just that afternoon. He wasn’t sure why he’d brought the blue box with him. He certainly didn’t intend on proposing in her study on a Saturday afternoon.
Bugger it, he wasn’t planning on proposing until he was sure she’d accept him. But for this invitation—a major holiday with her family—she’d never offered the slightest indication that she’d changed her mind about marriage.
Hadn’t she said only the night before how she didn’t want to give her offspring the wrong impression? What kind of impression would a family Christmas together make?
“Are you sure you want me there?”
Prim nodded. “If you don’t have other plans. With Mrs. Preston, perhaps?”
“No, she’s spending the evening with her sister, then attending the midnight services at St. Patrick’s. She did invite me to come along, as she had in the past, but didn’t seem surprised when I excused myself.”
“You’ll come then?”
“I’d love to.”
Joy radiated from her but when her gaze drifted down to the desk, it slipped away. “There’s something else I’d like to ask, too, if you have some time?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve told you before how Fletcher left control of his fortune to me to oversee?”
“Aye.”
“I’ve taken on our personal finances quite handily,” she explained. “He’d had time enough before he passed to show me that much. For the past several months, I’ve been trying to educate myself more thoroughly on the other investments Fletcher left to me. Investments he made as a financier with both the bank and the fortune his maternal grandfather left him. But I’ve been having a difficult time making heads or tails of these reports and was hoping you might take a look at them for me.”
“I’m happy to help.” James sifted through the papers on the desk. “Who’s been keeping them all this time?”
“Declan has.” Prim grimaced, clearly embarrassed. “I know I’ve made myself out to be so independent but despite my constant demands, Declan hasn’t yet delivered all the files to me as I’ve asked. I’ve just these few so far, but they don’t make much sense.”
“Why would he keep them from you?”
“For just that reason. He knows I’m not prepared enough to handle every aspect of them,” she admitted. “But he hasn’t taken the time to educate me as he’d promised he would. He thinks I’ll waste away his grandchildren’s future. I told you, he thinks I’m a dunderhead.”
“He’s the fool if he believes that.” James tapped her temple with a grin. “Have you reminded him that the law is on your side?”
“It’s only just occurred to me that I might employ that fact to make my case.”
“What has Shane to do with all this, then?”
“Not much. He sees nothing wrong with me leaving business to the men and has been hesitant in going behind Declan’s back to bring the files home for me. Due to my diminished mental capability, of course,” she told him. “I think I told you, he works as a junior partner at the bank.”
“As does Mr. Leachman?”
“Yes.”
“And Declan wants Leachman as your husband pretty desperately.”
Prim’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Yet. Let’s peruse the files and see if we can make sense of them, shall we?”
“We?” she echoed.
“Naturally. You’ve got to learn.”
* * *
“I have to say, you can wipe any doubt from your mind that it was only you these files baffled,” James said a few hours later, tossing a folder into the pool of papers on the desk. “There’s something missing here, though I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. I see a steady stream of cash output that suggests loans of some sort, given the smaller deposits being returned periodically into each account.
“They appear to be interest payments, but I can’t see where the funds went to begin with. Or to whom.” He scratched his head. “This is all you have?”
“Yes, until tomorrow at least,” Prim said, perceiving his frustration as if it were her own. “I’ve told Shane I would have them collected Monday despite his reservations.”
Leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head, James chuckled. “That’s my lass.”
A knock sounded from the door. Prim turned to find her father-in-law there. He swept in, dropping a pair of briefcases onto the floor next to the desk. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”
“We were just working on some of the investment portfolios,” she said, coming to her feet to greet Declan with a kiss on his cheek. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
“Shane called on me a short while ago and told me you were making all sorts of rash demands,” the older man said. “I thought you trusted me with all of this?”
“I do,” Prim assured him, though the last few hours had put a doubt or two into her head. There were things that didn’t add up. “But, I told you I wanted to have a hand in what was going on. To learn to take care of them myself.”
“Yes, I know what you said...”
Prim sighed, well-accustomed to that placating tone.
“...I just don’t understand why you’d want to bother with it all when I’m here to help you and happy to do it. I enjoy it. Besides, I want my grandchildren to have a solid future, you know.”
Familiar frustration welled up in her. They’d been down this road too many times before. She could tell him that she craved the responsibility all she liked, but he’d never believe her or take her seriously.
It was as if he didn’t hear her, didn’t want to...or he was hiding something from her.
She shot a pleading glance at James, but he made no move to help her. He just nodded, his eyes filled with encouragement and faith.
In her.
She couldn’t let him down. Or herself. The line between the two had become blurred.
“I have always appreciated your assistance, Declan, but the time has come for you to begin trusting me as Fletcher did.”
“Fletcher saw to it that you have a substantial income with plenty of money in the bank,” he pointed out. “And I’ve done the same. Even in times like these, hard as they are.”
Since she did all the accounting for her personal and household finances, Prim knew that was true. She had more money than most these days and she was thankful for it.
But that wasn’t the point.
She was neither greedy nor grasping, but she didn’t think she needed to be either to demand control of her own life.
“I appreciate your help since Fletcher’s passing. I truly do.” Prim drew a deep, bolstering breath. “However, I want—no, I plan to take over the administration of all of the investments he left to me, beginn
ing immediately.”
Declan’s jaw dropped, astonishment over the demand written all over his face, but Prim held firm.
“I want everything, Declan. All of it.”
“Primrose, you’re a fine girl,” he began. “I always thought Fletcher made a good choice in you, but what you’re doing...it’s rash. Can’t you see that? You’re not prepared to handle the responsibility of overseeing millions of dollars.”
“I can be. I will be.”
Declan shot a look at James, full of skepticism. “I’d feel better about leaving it to you if you’d reconsider Mossman’s suit. I trust him. I think you can, too.”
But Prim wasn’t brimming with confidence for her father-in-law at that moment. “I will handle it myself, but I appreciate your concern.”
Something flared in his eyes but was quickly squashed. Prim wondered at it. Hurt? Betrayal?
“It is my right by law,” she reminded softly, saddened that she’d been reduced to making a threat of it. “As I told Shane, I’ll send someone to pick up all the files tomorrow. If I don’t have them, I will have to consider contacting the proper authorities.”
Declan shook his head.
“You’re making a mistake, Primrose.”
“No, Declan, I don’t believe I am.”
With a nod, he left and Prim turned back to James without any of the triumph she’d expected. “I hated to do that.”
“I know.” James patted his thigh in invitation. “Come here.”
She rounded the desk and curled against him without hesitation. How long had it been since she’d had someone to comfort her so? She’d never considered how much she’d missed having someone to lean on.
It went against every doctrine of the suffrage credo, but it was awfully good to have someone to rely on.
Lord have mercy, but she would miss him when he was gone.
Chapter 27
You do not need scores of suitors. You only need one... if he’s the right one.
~ Louisa May Alcott from Little Women
Christmas Eve
A Question Worth Asking Page 17