by Merry Farmer
“I want to learn too,” Hazel said. “Perhaps, if I take to it, I could have Mr. Brummel fashion a baseball bat attachment for my arm.”
Lenore blinked in surprise, sending a nervous glance to Hazel’s mechanical arm before deliberately looking away. Her gaze fell on their father. “What do you say, Mr. Mercer? Would you like to learn to play baseball too?”
He loved her. Her simple question, directed without art or malice, toward his father, was like fireworks of desire blasting through him, knocking him off his feet. He actually loved her.
“I’m sure Father would love to umpire the game,” he said, reasonably certain he looked every bit the lovesick schoolboy that he felt.
“Very well, then.” Lenore stood, patting her mouth with the edge of her serviette, then setting it on the table. “Show me to a field suitably large and find me a ball and some sort of stick we can use as a bat.”
Chaos erupted, exactly as Phineas expected it to. The girls dashed outside to find the requested items, and Lenore followed them. But not before she flashed Phin the most beautiful smile of mischief and good humor that he’d ever seen. Which was miraculous, considering how terrified she’d been the day before. It warmed him to his bones to see how comfortable and safe she felt in the protection of his family, which only increased his ardor.
“You need to propose to that woman as fast as possible,” Hazel murmured to him as they worked together to move their father outside and settle him where he would be able to watch the activity unfolding in the yard.
“I half tried already,” he admitted. “On the train. I was disappointed in the results.”
Hazel straightened once their father was settled. “So you asked and she said no?”
Phin winced and rolled his shoulders. “I implied, and she demurred.”
Hazel made a frustrated sound, glancing to their father. “Is this how you raised your heir?”
Their father’s eyes shifted slightly from Hazel to Phin. It was a rare good sign that he was following the conversation.
“You need to ask her properly,” Hazel went on. She glanced across the yard to where Lenore and the girls were choosing from a selection of broomsticks, farm implements, and even an old cricket bat for their game. “The weather is unseasonably warm today. I suggest a romantic picnic for supper this evening. You can go out to Granger’s Hill, spread a blanket, watch the stars come out, and do whatever comes naturally after a romantic proposal.”
Phin gaped at her, then turned to their father. “Is this how you raised your eldest daughter?”
Their father made a gurgling noise that could have been a laugh. Paradoxically, that macabre sound filled Phin with joy. All was definitely not right with the world, but in that moment, he was most certainly happy with his lot. And if he played his cards right, Lenore would be happy with it too.
“I know a secret,” Amaryllis said, an impish grin on her face as she, Gladys, and Lenore joined Phin, Hazel, and their father at the side of the yard.
“Do you?” Lenore said with exaggerated interest.
Amaryllis nodded and giggled. “It’s about Phin.”
Lenore gasped, her mouth open as she turned to Phin, pretending to be shocked. “I was unaware that your brother had secrets.”
“He has loads of them,” Gladys said with a shrug, bouncing the ball they’d found off of the cricket bat as expertly as any of the lads Phin had ever played the sport with.
“And what secret do you know about your brother?” Lenore asked Amaryllis.
Amaryllis giggled, leaned closer to Lenore, and said, “Phin likes kissing people.”
A surprise burst of mortification filled Phin. He prayed to God Amaryllis didn’t know a fraction of the truth behind her statement and that she wouldn’t say anything else.
“I’m shocked,” Lenore said, pressing a hand to her chest. “Utterly shocked. I am flabbergasted and amazed.”
Phin rolled his eyes at her, his mouth pulling to the side in a wry grin.
“I simply cannot believe the coincidence,” Lenore went on, laying it on far too thick. “Because I like kissing people too.”
Amaryllis burst into laughter that doubled her over. Gladys laughed as well, missing the ball and letting it drop to the grass. Even Hazel laughed, which meant Phin couldn’t possibly maintain his stoic mien. He laughed and shook his head, clapping a hand on his father’s shoulder. London seemed a million miles away. Lady Hamilton and Det. Gleason felt like no more than fictional characters. Mr. Bartholomew Swan and the Wyoming Range Wars must have been something out of another lifetime. And Phin would have been more than happy to have all of it stay just where it was.
“Princess Lenore, would you care to have a picnic supper with me this evening?” he asked, throwing caution to the wind.
Lenore blinked, as startled to be asked the question as he was to have asked it. “Why, um, I guess I would,” she said, her smile widening.
“Good,” Phin replied, adding a saucy wink that made Lenore’s cheeks go pink.
Everything was settled, then. He would propose to Lenore under the moonlight, and as soon as she was his wife, he would stop at nothing to sweep all of the troubles out of both of their lives.
Chapter 11
It all felt wrong. Lenore shuffled through the things she’d hastily packed for the trip to Yorkshire, deciding on the perfect outfit for her evening picnic with Phineas, but everything felt wrong. Granted, it felt beautiful as well. The unseasonable warmth that the new day had ushered in made the countryside surrounding the Mercer home glow with a golden sort of magic that only autumn could bring. It felt wonderful to be surrounded by a down to earth family, even if their circumstances were far more reduced than Phin had ever let on in London. And it felt safe in a way that Lenore thought she would never feel safe again after the events of the Laramie conference well over a year before. But in her heart, Lenore knew it was all wrong, no matter how lovely it was.
“If you’re worried about soiling all of your fine clothes on a picnic, I could lend you something,” Hazel said from the doorway to the room Lenore was staying in, startling Lenore half out of her wits.
“It’s not that,” Lenore laughed, pretending her tension was nothing more than being surprised. “I don’t mind a bit of dirt on my clothes. You should have seen the messes I made back home in Haskell.” She put down the skirt she’d been contemplating and picked up the flat document box she hadn’t dared to leave in London from the bed and tucked it as discreetly as she could into her suitcase.
“What was that?” Hazel asked, nodding to Lenore’s suitcase. She reached her left arm across her chest to grasp the bit that remained of her right arm, making Lenore feel as though she were crossing her arms and demanding answers.
“It’s, er, my important documents,” she said, deciding the truth was better than some sort of fabrication. “You can never be too careful as a foreigner traveling in a strange land.”
Hazel laughed. “Yorkshire is certainly strange. But after the stories you told this afternoon, I believe your Wyoming would give it a run for its money.”
“Haskell is colorful, that’s for certain,” Lenore said, leaving her things on the bed and walking out of the room. Hazel followed her, which was its own form of relief. “I think I’ll just wear this for the picnic. It’s not as though it’s a social occasion that requires high fashion.”
Hazel arched her unsinged eyebrow at Lenore and followed her down the stairs with a mysterious grin. Butterflies coalesced in Lenore’s gut. Phin was planning something with this picnic. She had guessed as much from the start, particularly given the look in his eyes when he’d asked her. Hazel’s mysterious expression only confirmed that thought.
“Are you ready to go trudging over the moors, like a heroine in a tragic story?” Phin asked when they reached the kitchen. He had changed into trousers and a shirt that were much better suited to their rural environment, but managed to look somehow more fashionable and put together than when he wore a suit straight out of the f
ashion magazines.
“I am more than ready,” Lenore answered with a bright smile.
“Then come along, Princess Lenore. The wilds await.”
He offered his arm, and Lenore took it, sending an excited smile to Gladys and Amaryllis, who sat at the kitchen table, devouring their supper with all the gusto of farm hands who had spent all day working. They waved at her and wished her and Phin goodbye with their mouths full and their eyes shining.
“Yorkshire truly is lovely,” Lenore said with a sigh as they made their way across the lawn to a footpath that ran between fields of wild grass and flowers that smelled as divine as they looked. Shades of orange and red blended with sage and darker greens in all directions. “It’s very different from Wyoming, but it has the same sort of homey feel to it.”
“I’m glad that you feel at home here,” Phin said with a grin that held far more excitement than a simple picnic near his home should have.
She sent him a flat look, pretending to be circumspect, even as her heart raced and her head spun. “You aren’t planning anything nefarious for this evening, are you?” she asked. The question was pointless, because of course he was.
“Now, what would make you say that?” He put on a baffled look that was as charming as it was false. His glasses only made him look more devilish somehow, and the warm light of the sun as it sank toward the horizon bathed him in rich hues of gold.
“I know you well enough to know you aren’t the sort to blithely jaunt off through the moors with a picnic basket over one arm,” she said, wondering if she wanted to wheedle a confession out of him and get him to stop his games or not.
“You’ve only seen me in London,” he said with a shrug. “You have no idea what I’m like when I’m in the country.”
“Oh, I have a feeling I do,” she murmured, sending him a wry grin.
They walked on for a bit, climbing a hill to where a small stand of trees in a remote clearing surrounded by tall grass could conceal while still giving them a beautiful view of the purples and greens of the surrounding moors. Their conversation turned to the antics of the girls, and Lenore shared a few stories of her younger siblings and the trouble they’d gotten into back home. For a few, glorious moments, it was as if nothing else existed in the world, as if Bart were a fiction and the troubles she’d gotten herself into had never happened. She wanted to embrace that moment for all it was worth.
“Hazel has truly outdone herself with this feast,” Phin commented once they were settled into their meal of cold meats and bread still warm from the oven. They ate while lounging on a thick blanket Phin had spread across the surprisingly springy grass near a scrubby tree. “I’m always amazed at what she can get up to, even with her limitations.”
“Yes, it’s amazing what a little determination and a mind as clever as I’ve seen Hazel’s is can accomplish,” Lenore said, washing down her last bite of bread with the locally-made mead Phin had brought with them. It was as good as any of the beer she’d ever had at The Silver Dollar Saloon back home.
Lenore expected Phin to go on with some new story of Hazel’s ingenuity, but he merely stared at her with a curious smile, as if a thousand thoughts were running riot behind his glasses and his sparkling eyes. She could tell that none of those thoughts were suitable for mixed company, which sent heat and tingles all through her body. But they also pricked hard at her conscience. There were so many things she really needed to tell Phin, but they were all things she should have told him months ago, when they’d first become acquainted while helping Phoebe Long. Every second that ticked past made her even guiltier of deception than she was when she first set foot in England.
“I love how clearly you can see the stars out here,” she said, resting back on her elbows and gazing up at the swiftly-darkening sky. The sun had begun setting before they reached the hill, and night was closing in fast. A few particularly bright stars already dotted the colorful sky. “Just another thing that reminds me of home,” she sighed.
“How would you like it if this were your home?” Phin asked, packing up what remained of their picnic and setting the basket aside.
Lenore dragged her gaze down from the heavens to watch as Phin slid closer to her, stretching to his side beside her. Her heart thrummed so hard it was painful. She knew the look in his eyes, reveled in the affection she saw there, and winced inwardly as she remembered the conversation they’d had on the train. She knew exactly where the evening was heading, and she was the worst kind of villainess for wanting it to go there with her whole heart.
“To be perfectly honest, I would like that very much,” she sighed, hopelessness joining the undeniable arousal she felt with Phin’s body so close to hers. “But, Phin, I could never—”
He didn’t let her finish, which came as absolutely no surprise to her whatsoever. He leaned into her, kissing her with a passion that took her breath away. His mouth was warm and hungry on hers and tasted of the mead and bread they’d just eaten—good, wholesome flavors. She didn’t bother trying to resist as he maneuvered her to her back and fit himself against her, half covering her, as he roamed her body with one hand, settling on caressing her breast. It felt perfect in so many ways, and wrong in so many others.
“I love you,” he said between lighter kisses. “I know it makes me utterly mad for falling in love so fast and so hard, and for admitting it like a green schoolboy, but I love you.”
Lenore’s heart squeezed to the point of causing her actual pain. “I’m just as crazy as you are,” she sighed. “Because as wrong as it is, I love you too.”
“It’s not wrong at all,” he insisted, inching closer to her and stroking a hand down her side to her hip. “It’s the rightest thing in the world.”
He gathered her skirts in his fist, hoisting them up slightly in a wicked invitation that was utterly and completely Phin-like. If she were honest with herself, she adored the fact that he was so sensual. She was beyond excited by his lust and his bluntness in acting on it. He was everything that good girls were told to run screaming from, and yet he managed to be sexual without coming off as a rogue or a rake. He was simply a man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. Just as she’d always considered herself to be a woman who never let convention stand in the way of her desires. They were perfect for each other.
“Phin, I know it might not feel like it right now, but the situation is so much more complicated than you realize,” she managed to squeeze out as it became harder and harder to breathe. The kisses he trailed down her neck while unbuttoning her blouse didn’t help the rationality of the situation one bit.
“I know it’s complex,” he said, losing patience with her buttons and tugging her blouse out from the waistband of her skirt entirely. “I have Lady Hamilton and her detective breathing down my neck. I am a man with a target on his head. But I’m so very sorry for writing about Lady Agnes the way I did. I swear, I’ll never do it again. From here on out, the only heroine I want to write about is you.”
Lenore sucked in a breath—partially because of the way he stroked a hand along her corset to her breast, and partially because she’d forgotten about Lady Hamilton and Lady Agnes entirely.
“I promise I will keep you safe from that Mr. Swan who has come after you,” he went on, finishing with the buttons of her bodice and pushing it aside so that he could rain kisses on the swell of her breasts—a gesture that did nothing to help Lenore keep her thoughts in one place. “I have friends at Scotland Yard. No doubt Freddy and Reese have already appealed to Lord Clerkenwell to thwart whatever purpose Mr. Swan has come to London for. But mostly—” He paused, bringing his lips back to hers and utterly robbing her of breath with the deepest and most heartfelt kiss she’d ever received. “Mostly I just want to marry you,” he finished at last. “I will give you everything and protect you with my life once you’re my wife.”
“I—” Even if she hadn’t been a wicked strumpet who ached to feel Phin inside of her in that moment—for the comfort it would
give her as much as for the raw pleasure—Lenore couldn’t have finished her protest if she’d wanted to. She knew she should. She knew the only moral thing to do was to stop Phin in his tracks and confess the entire story of Laramie and how she had escaped being murdered by Bart the moment he discovered her with the damning letters.
Instead, she strained into him, kissing him as madly as he was kissing her, and reached between them to fumble with the fastenings of his trousers. She was the worst kind of strumpet she could think of as she tugged his shirt out of his waistband and reached in to caress his cock. He was already hard and hot, and as she stroked him, the sounds of enjoyment he made scattered whatever resistance to sin she might have had left.
“I adore it when you touch me like this,” he panted, moving against her hand. “You aren’t shy about anything.”
“I want you inside of me,” she gasped in return, shocked at her own boldness. But the desperation to be one with him warred with guilt. The two emotions seemed to be in a race to see which could consume her faster. Forget Bart, Phin was going to murder her when he learned the full truth. But at least she could have this one, last night to carry with her when everything fell apart.
It was quick and clumsy, but that hardly mattered. Lovemaking didn’t always have to be romantic, with angels singing and sunbeams bursting. Phin grasped and tugged at her skirts until they were up around her waist. She pushed his trousers down over his backside and opened to him. He drove himself deep inside of her as they both groaned in satisfaction. She was reminded all over again how large he was and how perfect he felt moving inside of her. It wasn’t pretty or sweet, but it was hot and powerful, and far quicker than she expected, her body coiled tight with tension, then released in a powerful orgasm that had her calling out loud enough to wake the neighbors, if any happened to be near. Phin hissed a curse that would have turned the most seasoned sailors pale in shock and jerked hard and fast into her before tensing and coming apart himself. She didn’t even care that he wasn’t wearing one of his French letters. The situation was already bad enough that an unplanned pregnancy couldn’t possibly make it worse.