Dangerous Alliance

by Jennieke Cohen

  Tom brushed a piece of hair away from her eye. “You truly are extraordinary, Victoria Aston. You always have been.”

  Her heart beat so fast, she thought he must be able to hear it. She felt her cheeks flush and her breath caught again, so she looked down, away from his gaze.

  “Let’s go outside,” he said.

  She nodded.

  The cold air sank into her as they left the cottage. Tom walked her toward a wood across the road, where he’d tethered a horse. She shivered and in a moment, he’d shrugged out of his greatcoat. He draped it around her shoulders and held out the sleeves for her to put her arms through. The coat still held the warmth from his body, and she relaxed into the heat. He looked down at her with a smile and buttoned the coat around her. Vicky held her breath at the intimacy of it.

  As he pulled the last button at her neck through the opening, his fingers grazed her chin. A small, involuntary sound escaped her.

  Gently, Tom pulled her chin up with his index finger and thumb. “So much of this trouble started because I couldn’t imagine you with Carmichael. I couldn’t fathom it. I thought him guilty of everything you rightly attributed to Dain. I was a bloody fool.”

  Vicky exhaled. “You needn’t apologize—”

  He shook his head. “Please, I must tell you.”

  She nodded for him to continue.

  He moved his hand to hold hers. “When Susie told me I was like your Mr. Darcy, I didn’t want to believe her. But now, I recognize that I have acted very like him: saying the wrong thing, saying nothing at all. Or waiting to say the right thing until it seems too late.”

  “You’re not like Mr. Darcy. And I wouldn’t have you be. You’re you. And I wouldn’t trade you for a dozen perfect gentlemen. The reality of you is far better than any fiction.” The words came out all at once, before she could think, and as he started to smile, she realized she meant every word.

  He squeezed her hand. “I’ve been a fool about so many things.”

  She exhaled. She’d been just as much a fool as he.

  “All I’ve wanted to do is help you. To keep you safe . . . I still do. I doubt I’ll ever stop.”

  She must have frowned, because he lifted his hand and ran his thumb along the edge of her jaw. “But not because you can’t protect yourself. It’s because I want you by my side every single day. Because I cannot envision a future where I can’t be near you.”

  She shook her head in disbelief just as her heart, still beating so fast, swelled in her chest.

  A crease appeared above the bridge of his nose. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I want to give you all the love I know you deserve. I will try, Victoria. If you’ll have me.”

  Vicky held her breath. For so long, she’d tried to forget him, their friendship, and her girlish hopes for the future, but she’d only been deceiving herself. She must have always loved him. And now Tom loved her. Loved her! His hair, in more disarray than usual, stuck up at strange angles and his brown eyes shone down at her with hope. Vicky blinked as she felt the back of her eyes tickle with tears of utter happiness.

  She was half giggling and half crying when she threw her arms about his neck and hugged him close. He stumbled forward and pulled her tight against him. She laughed as her tears fell onto his shoulder. He smelled of the morning air and faintly of toast and cinnamon, just as he had that day at Oakbridge.

  After a few moments, he eased his head back to look at her face, perhaps curious to see if she was in earnest, but when their gazes locked, he grinned and crushed her back against him. “Thank God for you,” he said into her ear. “All this time I thought you needed saving, but really it was me.”

  He took a slow step backward and she relaxed her hold on his neck, tilting her head up to see his expression. His smile was gone, replaced by a very serious look. She raised her eyebrows, wondering what had gone wrong. As she continued to gaze at him, he moved closer, angling his head until his lips hovered over hers.

  She breathed but couldn’t look away—didn’t want to look away. He brushed her lips with his, and she sighed. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he pulled her into him until their bodies touched. He deepened the kiss. Her lips parted as her arms tightened around his neck. The world beyond them vanished.

  She lifted herself up onto her toes to get even closer. His arms encircled her, and he lifted her off the ground. Vicky melted into him, knowing she’d never felt as safe as she did now that she was in Tom’s arms. She tilted her head back and beamed at him. “You’ll be hard-pressed to get rid of me now, Tom Sherborne.”

  Horses’ hooves thundered up through the ground. Tom pulled Vicky behind him.

  Charles, Althea, and one of the guards who’d tried to haul Tom down the stairs of Aston House reined in their horses. Charles and the guard both held pistols.

  Tom let out a long breath. Vicky moved to his side.

  Charles vaulted from the saddle. “What’s the verdict?”

  Tom made a grim face. “Dead.”

  Charles glanced at Althea and offered his hand to help her dismount.

  Althea nodded once. “I don’t imagine many will miss him.”

  Vicky’s eyes sliced toward Charles. “Dain told me Charles was working with him to kill you,” she whispered.

  “He was only pretending so he could understand Dain’s plan. If he hadn’t, Carmichael and I would be dead.”

  Vicky exhaled. “What has become of Mr. Carmichael?”

  “He is quite well, I assure you,” Charles answered as he set Althea on her feet. Althea pulled Vicky into a tight embrace. “It was a clean shot through the arm.” He looked at Tom. “The doctor awoke shortly after you left. He seemed well enough to do his duty. And Susan was with them. Lady Dain came to the park with Mr. Jones.” Charles gestured to the guard. “I felt I owed it to you both to come along.” Charles met Vicky’s gaze. “I swear I had no notion he would abduct you. I must apologize.”

  Vicky nodded, then looked at Althea. “He planned to bargain my life to get you to drop the suit.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Althea asked. She glanced at Tom.

  “You needn’t worry over Dain again,” Tom cut in.

  “Was there a carriage driver?” Charles asked.

  “Yes, but I never saw him,” Vicky replied.

  “Perhaps you could survey the perimeter of the house for him, Mr. Jones?” Charles asked the guard. The man nodded and moved toward Dain’s carriage.

  Tom gave Charles a pointed look, then pulled him aside. “Dain’s body is upstairs. Should we alert the local authorities?”

  Charles made a face. “You’ve killed a peer—even though he perpetrated a conspiracy to murder you, it will not go well for you.”

  “Actually,” Vicky cut in, “I—”

  “Tom did nothing of the kind,” Althea stated.

  They all looked at her.

  “Lord Dain and I were beset by robbers,” Althea continued. “Lord Halworth ran them off, but arrived too late to save my husband from his fate.”

  Tom stared at Althea.

  Charles cleared his throat. “Are you quite certain—”

  “I will not have Tom or Victoria or any of us suffer any more than we have for Dain’s crimes. This is our only option.”

  Tom glanced at Vicky. Her lips parted as she regarded her sister. “Thea, you needn’t do this for me. I did what I had to, but—”

  “No ‘buts,’ Vicky,” Althea said, raising her chin. She looked at Charles and Tom. “I am determined, gentlemen.”

  Tom held her gaze. Hers did not waver.

  Charles nodded. “Your guard. Can we rely on his discretion?”

  “Oh, I think so,” Althea said, glancing toward the man with the hint of a smile.

  Tom raised his brows. Jones seemed devoted to his job—or was he devoted to his employer?

  Charles grinned. “Very well. I shall take care of appearances in the house. I’ll leave Mr. Jones to you, Lady Dain.”

  Althea shook her head and
pressed Vicky’s hand. “Feel at liberty to call me Althea again. I am no longer Lady Dain—in name, perhaps. But never, ever again.”

  Chapter the Last

  Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery.

  —Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

  Two and a half months later, after the scandal of Lord Dain’s death had disappeared from the pages of the society papers and the immediate memories of the gossipmongers, the Astons, the Sherbornes, and the Carmichaels gathered at Oakbridge to celebrate Althea’s freedom. It was an informal affair held in the early afternoon under two large white tents on one of Oakbridge’s lawns. Bowls overflowing with flowers, tiered trays of petit fours, and artfully arranged pyramids of fruit adorned two round tables. The hosts and guests sat at a long rectangular table under the other tent, dining on cold roasted venison, sea asparagus, Stilton, and pigeon pie.

  Vicky caught Tom’s eye. He tilted his head toward her and smiled. She beamed back, then looked out beyond the tent to the gardens, now blooming with color under the summer sun. How good it was to be home. And Oakbridge seemed all the more cheerful now that the unpleasantness with Dain had ended. Oakbridge was safe once more.

  “How did you manage to get your horses back?” Carmichael prompted Tom from across the table. He sat near the head of the table next to Althea, who sat between him and Vicky’s father. “Lady Dain tells me it was something of a coup.”

  “It was Althea’s idea, actually,” Vicky said with a smile at her sister.

  Althea shrugged.

  “Modest as usual,” Tom said. “Charles and I mentioned to Vicky and Althea that Dain had purchased our horses at Tattersall’s. As nearly all Dain’s property would go to the next viscount, Althea, Mr. Jones, and I went to Dain’s town house to see if he’d stabled them there.”

  Vicky cast an eye at the broad-shouldered, ginger-haired Mr. Jones standing at the edge of the tent. At Althea’s request, he’d decided to stay on as her personal guard. After Dain’s death, Althea no longer looked over her shoulder in fear, but Mr. Jones’s quiet presence seemed to offer her an extra measure of serenity.

  “Dain’s stable master was the one person who ever helped me in that house,” Althea said. “So I thought he might help again.”

  Tom nodded. “When she told him Dain was dead—it was not yet widely known—he expressed concern that the new Lord Dain would not keep him on. I offered him the same position at Halworth Hall. After that, we spirited the horses out of Dain’s stables. She rode one and I the other,” Tom admitted.

  Vicky grinned at her sister. How wonderful it was to see her nearly back to her old self.

  Carmichael inclined his head to Althea. “Well done, madam.” Then he said to Tom, “It certainly sounds more interesting than resting in bed for weeks without the use of your arm.”

  Unlikely as it seemed, Charles’s efforts to uncover Dain’s intentions had actually managed to win Mr. Carmichael’s respect. To make amends for the damage he’d done with Tom’s backers, Carmichael had decided to partner with Lord Axley to fund Tom’s hotel. He, Tom, and Charles could now have proper conversations without resentment. Carmichael also seemed genuinely fond of Susie, as did his mother.

  After everything, Vicky had visited Mr. Carmichael in London. She’d expressed her gratitude to him and told him marriage was no longer in her immediate purview. He hadn’t been happy, but he’d seemed to grasp something had happened between her and Tom at the cottage. Although she and Tom hadn’t yet decided anything, with Dain gone, she was in no rush.

  Vicky hoped Mr. Carmichael would eventually move on. He hadn’t ever truly understood her. Besides, a man like him was sure to find more than his share of women vying to marry him.

  Vicky’s father chimed in. “At least your dear mother was kind enough to care for you, Carmichael,” he said, nodding at Mrs. Carmichael across the table.

  Mrs. Carmichael laughed gaily. “It was no holiday, I assure you, Lord Oakbridge.”

  The table broke into laughter.

  Vicky’s father continued, “My family left me all alone while they went to the theater and balls and—”

  Vicky, her mother, and Althea protested loudly at his exaggeration, while the men laughed.

  “Well, Lord Oakbridge, I fear the ladies of your family treated you poorly,” Carmichael remarked in a tone that meant he was playing along. “I was lucky, for not only was my mother by my side, but Miss Naseby took it upon herself to care for me.”

  “I had no choice after Charles left the park to help Tom rescue Lady Victoria,” Susie said a little farther down the table.

  Charles rolled his eyes. “It’s not as though we left him wounded without any help,” he protested. “The doctor was awake by then. Between the three of them, the situation was well in hand.”

  Susie raised her brows. “I nearly went to get a magistrate to listen to Mr. Carmichael explain what had happened.”

  “Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to emphasize to Miss Naseby that dueling was illegal,” said Mr. Carmichael. “When Silby woke, I told him he had better disappear if he didn’t want me prosecuting him for attempted murder.”

  Vicky exhaled. It was a good thing Mr. Carmichael had, or Silby’s involvement with Dain might have called their story about Dain’s death into question. Thankfully, they hadn’t heard from Silby since that day. According to their acquaintances in London, he seemed to have vanished entirely.

  Charles, meanwhile, was keeping busy now that Tom had split the responsibilities of running the estate between the two of them. They were also planning to start a horse-breeding program—with Vicky’s help, of course—using Horatio as the first stud. After Horatio’s brief showing at Tattersall’s, various lords and horse enthusiasts had expressed interest in breeding him with their English Thoroughbred mares. Even Mr. Carmichael was planning to breed one of his mares with Horatio.

  Vicky looked around the table at the smiling faces of the people she loved. She relaxed as their laughter rang out beyond the confines of the tent. She glanced at Tom, and his slow grin warmed her from the inside out. Unbidden, the thought that her life had finally taken on the guise of one of Miss Austen’s novels popped into her head. Perhaps it would continue to do so for some time, but Vicky would not worry over when circumstances might once again change. She would always love Miss Austen’s stories, but after all that had transpired, Vicky no longer believed life could be summed up by one author’s perspective of the world. For why else would so many books exist if not to impart different truths about life and all its complexities? Indeed, as much as Vicky had always wanted to emulate Elizabeth Bennet, she now realized she was more than content to simply be herself.

  Later, when everyone had eaten their fill and the party dispersed—some moving indoors to escape the humid afternoon warmth, some starting a croquet game on the lawn next to the tents, and some disappearing into the grotto to see the trickling fountains—Tom offered Vicky his arm.

  “Could I persuade you to join me for a walk?”

  She peered at him through her lashes. “I believe I could be persuaded.”

  They strolled through the gardens until Tom stopped at the base of a hill crowned with mature oaks. Tom grinned as he tilted his head toward the ancient oak tree they’d often climbed as children.

  “What had you in mind?” she asked with a laugh.

  “A race, of course,” he replied with mock seriousness.

  “Indeed?” She glanced down at her daffodil-yellow dress. “I’m hardly appropriately attired.”

  “When has that ever stopped you?” he asked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

  She raised her chin. “Quite right.” Then she took off, sprinting toward the top. She giggled at his surprised shout and ran harder. The hill sloped steeply enough to take her breath. Tom’s boots thumped on the grass behind her. They’d almost reached the tree.

  He passed her as they reached the hillcrest, and she laughed again with a mixture of happiness and indignation as he pretended t
o stumble. Her hand shot out and touched the tree seconds before his.

  “So unjust,” she said, catching her breath.

  “I believe you’re the one who got a head start,” he said, taking a step closer.

  She lifted her chin and smiled. “To you, I meant.”

  He raised his brows as he took her hand. “You won fair and square.”

  She swallowed. How didn’t he need great gulps of air as she did? “You always used to let me win,” she said. Her cheeks, still warm from the race, heated even more as his gaze locked with hers.

  He stepped closer and covered her hand with his other palm. She dragged in another breath, unable to look away from his earnest brown eyes.

  “Then, you were not the strong, capable lady who saved my life.”

  Her breath caught. “What has that to do with anything?”

  “You’re far too determined for me to give you an advantage you didn’t ask for—or take, in this case.”

  Though she thought him rather wonderful for saying so, she narrowed her eyes. “You know me too well.” She wet her lips, wishing he would kiss her. With everything that had happened since the day at Dain’s cottage, they’d rarely been alone together.

  Then he laughed. “It occurs to me that our situation is far more similar to Emma and Mr. Knightley than Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.” He’d just finished Emma, after completing the other three of Miss Austen’s novels. “I live on the neighboring estate, we grew up together—”

  “I believe I told you my stance on fictional gentlemen, Tom Sherborne.”

  “That they’re what every lady truly desires?” he teased.

  She gave a short laugh. “That.” She bobbed her head. “And I wouldn’t exchange you for the best of them.”

  That devastating smile of his that came on by degrees warmed his eyes until she couldn’t look away.

  “You never actually gave me an answer, you know,” he said.

  Her lips parted. His proposal. She never had answered it. But he hadn’t broached it again either. “I wasn’t certain you still wanted to—”

  He cut her off with a kiss that stole her arguments, stole her doubts, and stole her heart all over again.