Anything but Love (The Putney Brothers Book 1)

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  "Marianne!" called out a voice from behind them, and she turned to see a troubled looking Charles, closely followed by a grim-faced John.

  "I take it you didn't catch him," said Harry, his joviality disappearing once again.

  "Nothing but his hat," replied John, holding up an old, battered tricorn for them to see.

  Charlie did not stop moving until he had pulled Marianne into his arms, embracing her so tightly that she was left momentarily breathless. He released her, but only so he could take her face in his hands as he examined her expression.

  "Tell me, darling; did he hurt you?"

  She hesitated, the rage in his eyes both terrifying and warming.

  "No, at least, not more than a bruise, I would think - and only a small one where he grabbed me, I promise!"

  "There was blood," said Charlie, his voice cracking.

  "There's blood on you now, old chap, and it looks to be your own. I'd be careful, for Marianne is still in possession of a dangerous weapon," said Harry, but his brother ignored him.

  "It's not mine," she said, almost laughing and almost crying at the same time. "The blood, I mean. Not the hatpin. I stabbed him with it. Then I stabbed you. I'm so sorry!"

  "Well done, dearest!" said John with an approving nod.

  "Godmama said it was good to stab men," said Marianne, aware she was babbling but unable to stop while Charles stared at her like she was the most precious thing in his world. "I told her about my embroidery, you see, and that sometimes I liked to imagine stabbing people I didn't like, and she said that more women should do it in the future."

  "I say, John; if Napoleon ever escapes again, you should let old Boney know to employ Aunt Eustacia and a battalion full of women to fight for King and Country. I don't know about you, but I would run from them and their hatpins faster than I'd flee from a cannon."

  "Stop being a dolt, Harry," said John. "Charlie, Marianne, we have to get back to the horses. The attacker is long gone, but the sooner we talk to father, the better."

  Charlie tore his gaze away from her. "Yes, of course. I'll ride with Marianne, but I want you both on guard, just in case."

  "Of course," they replied, as though affronted he could have thought they would do anything else.

  They walked back to the horses in silence, and if it was improper for Charles to keep his arm so tightly about her shoulder for the entirety of the short walk then no one, least of all Marianne, made any complaint about it at all.

  Chapter EIGHT

  "It's not good news," said Sir Joseph over port the following night.

  The family had cancelled their plans to attend the Trow's Venetian Breakfast that evening, and opted instead for a quiet dinner and evening of card games. Charles suspected that Marianne was more irritated by this than he would have expected, although she made no fuss out loud. She had been quiet throughout all three courses that his mother had served, commenting only once that the dish of minted peas were favourites, and seemed content to let everyone around her talk.

  As soon as the three ladies had retired to the sitting room, however, Sir Joseph had ordered all the footmen away so that he could talk with his sons in private.

  "I take it you haven't found the man who tried to abduct Marianne, then," said Charles, his mood grim.

  His father shook his head. "No, but I did not expect to."

  "I asked about in Newtown, but no one seems to know anything, which leads me to expect the man was hired from outside the area," said Harry, running his fingers up and down his glass. "Having said that, there was a man matching Cuthbert Headley's description seen over the last few days."

  "Unfortunately Cuthbert Headley looks like every other overstuffed pigeon with more money than style," said John. "It doesn't mean anything."

  "It does when combined with the fact that Marianne was almost stolen away on my watch," said Charles through gritted teeth. "There's no reason for anyone else to lay a finger on her."

  "I don't dispute it was Headley, old boy," said John with his customary calm, "only whether it was him showing his face in Newtown."

  "We all know it was the girl's cousin," snapped Sir Joseph. "There's no question of that now."

  "Now?" said Charles, his ears picking up. "What do you mean by that?"

  His father sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

  “I did a little investigating of my own – and do not tell your mother about this, as I have no wish to worry her!”

  “Not a word,” promised Charles, although he was aware of a pang of guilt at the thought that his father may have taken up some of less than above-board dealings again just to help Marianne.

  His father waited until both his brothers had sworn the same before continuing.

  "Before Marianne’s arrival, it seems that the Headleys were so much in the thrall of their creditors that not a single merchant in Clun would let them buy on account.”

  “You’d never have thought it, the way they spent so lavishly in London,” said Harry. “I know we only attended their soirees because of Gordon, but I do remember thinking that Mrs Headley must have spent an awful lot of money on those giant confectionaries considering there were so few of us in attendance.”

  “That’s hardly surprising, given how London Society functions,” scoffed Sir Joseph. “My concern, however, is over the fact that they have paid off all the debts they owed in Clun, and have since racked up a large number of new accounts.”

  “They’ve stolen from Marianne,” said Charles, “and you think the abductor was sent by them in order to regain control of her fortune.”

  “Indeed,” said his father. “Half the shopkeepers my man talked to had been willing to extend credit to the Headleys once again, for they had heard he was to wed his extremely rich cousin any day.”

  Harry said something particularly vulgar, but no one moved to admonish him.

  “Surely not,” said John, his brow furrowed in thought. “Surely Gordon would not have allowed them such access to her money.”

  “I would not have believed it, but how else did he lay his hands on such a substantial amount over the last year?”

  “Not gambling,” said Charles. “Gordon often told me how none of the family had luck with cards, which was why he abstained from playing for anything more than coppers.”

  “Lady Luck could have smiled on him,” said Harry, although he sounded doubtful.

  “There’s no way to tell at this stage,” said Sir Joseph with a heavy sigh. “After this botched abduction… I will be heading to London tomorrow and will see what I can find out.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Charles, but his father shook his head.

  “No, your job is to protect the girl, and the same goes for you two as well. I’ll ask Marianne to write me a letter so I can talk with the family lawyers, but I doubt they will tell me much without Gordon’s approval.”

  “Do you think he will try and abduct her again?” asked John, but it was Charles that answered.

  “Of course he will. If he has truly been stealing from her – God, I suspected he’d skimmed the cream, but enough to clear his debts is beyond the pale! – well, the only way to cover up his crime is to marry her, so I expect him to be orchestrating another attempt at any moment.”

  Their father nodded in agreement. “A greater question is just how much he has taken from her. Pin money is one thing, but my man got the feeling that it was a much greater amount.”

  “Could we not involve the law?” said John.

  “For what? If anything, Charles is the one who broke the law by stealing Marianne, and the rest of us are holding her away from her rightful guardian. If Headley wants to take her back, there’s nothing we can do,” said Sir Joseph, a grimace on his lips.

  “Then we can’t let her out of our sight,” said Charles, leaning onto the table and resting his elbows on the cool wood. “Marianne must be confined to the Manor and the gardens, and watched at all times.”

  “Surely we don’t have to be as extreme as
that,” said Harry with some alarm. “The poor thing’s only just started to stretch her wings; clipping them now will destroy her spirit.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” shouted Charles, stunning his brothers into silence. “Think, you fool! Marianne was almost abducted from right under our noses, and there were nearly twenty of us present, not including the servants! All it would take is a momentary lapse of concentration from one of us, and she’d be spirited away in a moment.”

  “Charles is right,” said their father before either John or Harry had a chance to argue. “We can hire in some of the labourers from the farms, men we can trust to keep a watchful eye on the exterior of the house. The gardens are safe enough, so long as Marianne stays within the walls and is accompanied at all times.”

  “Sounds like a prison to me,” muttered Harry. “John, tell them this is too much!”

  “I agree with them,” said the former soldier, much to the surprise of both his brothers. “One thing I learned on the continent is how easy it is to lose sight of someone, how the blink of an eye is long enough for someone to vanish.”

  There was a brief silence. Charles knew full well that John was talking about Waterloo and the death of Evan Swancoat, but there was nothing he could say or do to help John recover from the loss.

  God knew they’d all tried.

  “At least arrange for our mother to host some parties, then,” said Harry, leaning back into his chair with a resigned sigh. “If we have to coop her up like her own relatives did, the least we can do is provide some entertainment.”

  “I’m not sure that’s wise,” said John. “Bringing in strangers only increases the chance of Headley’s man getting close to Marianne.”

  “We are not going to become her jailers,” snapped Harry, “and I trust our own people to keep her safe on our own estates!”

  “He’s right, for the whole point of this is to save Marianne from more harm,” said Charles, straightening up his back.

  “Then marry the girl and be done with it,” said John with an exasperated air. “The only thing that’s going to stop Headley trying to abduct her is if she’s already married, or…”

  “John,” snapped their father, “we are not here to fear monger or assume the worst.”

  “It’s fine, it’s not like I haven’t thought the same thing,” said Charles. “She cannot dispute who spent her money if she’s dead, after all. If Headley can’t marry her, the only way to stop Gordon finding out about his thievery and abuse is to kill the girl in an accident.”

  “That’s if Headley only took her allowance,” said Harry hurriedly. “God, I never thought I’d be hopeful that the wretch has somehow gained access to the rest of her funds, but if he has, then he needs to marry her if he wants to avoid prison, because there’s no way she could have removed that money without his consent.”

  “Gordon wouldn’t allow it,” said John.

  “He might so he could protect her reputation,” insisted Harry. “Women have been forced to marry for less.”

  “Which is why she needs to marry Charles,” John insisted.

  “She’s not of age, dear boy,” said their father. Charles caught the scowl that appeared on John’s face at the condescending tone, but was not in the mood to play peacemaker. His mind was too full of Marianne, and his heart pounded at the thought of what could have happened to her if the abduction had been successful.

  Had the purpose been to force Marianne into marriage, or to put period to her existence? Was she in more danger than he’d thought possible?

  He wanted to go to her that instant, pull her into his arms and promise to keep her safe from the world. He wanted to kiss her lips, and know that she kissed him back because she wanted to, not out of any sense of obligation, and certainly not because he was her brother’s friend.

  She had been so lively today, as though the ordeal at Braddoc’s Well had not happened. She’d even begged them not to cancel their attendance of the Venetian breakfast, declaring that Mr Aldburn was probably right, and it had been nothing but a vagrant wanting to steal her purse.

  He knew she was lying, because the hunted look had returned to her eyes, and her determination to be cheerful contained a core of nerves that she could not disguise.

  Charles wanted to wring the necks of everyone who had hurt her, especially her cousin, but with a fair amount of his anger aimed squarely at his best friend.

  “You know better than to consider it, don’t you?” said Harry, recalling him to his surroundings.

  “Consider what?”

  “Jumping the border and marring her in Scotland,” said Harry with undisguised irritation. “It may serve the purpose in the short term, but the damage to her reputation could be considerable.”

  “Not if Aunt Eustacia is present, and Gordon gives it his blessing on his return,” insisted John. “It’s only a matter of weeks before she comes of age anyway, so it’s not as though anyone would be able to contest the date.”

  “She wouldn’t agree to it anyway,” said Charles, making his decision. He pushed back his chair and stood, the untouched glass of port still before him.

  “It’s a card we can play if things become desperate,” said his father, “but thankfully we are not there yet. What do you intend to do, my boy?”

  “Inform Marianne that I am imprisoning her at Putney Manor,” he said grimly. “I’m sure she’s going to be delighted.”

  “What, now?” said John as he also rose to his feet. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

  "When else can I tell her?" he replied, irritation seeping into his words. "There's never a good time for this kind of news."

  "Perhaps in private?" ventured Harry, but Charles shook his head.

  "It will help if she feels that Aunt Eustacia and Mother are on her side in the matter. She needs to feel cared for right now, even if our actions are the things to make her wary."

  He stalked out of the dining room, knowing that his brothers and father would follow him if only to lend their silent support. He could hear laughter coming from the sitting room, and for a moment considered just leaving her to enjoy her evening and believe that everything would be fine.

  But he could not. Sooner or later she would realise that she was now as much a prisoner here as she had been before her rescue. The least he could do was be the one to tell her.

  He opened the door onto a merry scene. Aunt Eustacia, brandy in hand, was on the chaise longue with her feet stretched out beside her, his mother in her favourite chair beside the fire, and Marianne on the floor between them, trying to read from the book in her hands without starting to laugh once again.

  "Charles!" said his mother with a delighted cry as he entered the room. "We were not expecting you gentlemen for another twenty minutes at least. Come, you must listen to our dear Marianne reading passages from The London House. She can impersonate Lady Eugenia and Gloucester to absolute perfection!"

  "That's because Mrs Drake is such an excellent writer," replied Marianne. "I conversed with her at one or two parties before she was married, but I didn't know she was a writer at the time. I hope to meet her again one day, and tell her how delighted I am with her books!"

  "She's a dear girl; the cousin of Lady Cordelia Delby," his mother said to Aunt Eustacia. "Very well connected, too, which is probably why her career was not destroyed when it was revealed she was the author of this book. You'd like her, I think."

  "Is Lady Cordelia the one that Harry wanted to marry?" asked Eustacia as Charles' two brothers arrived, followed closely by their father.

  "I was very in love with her for a few weeks," said Harry as he made his way to the sofa. "I thought it was an affection of the enduring kind, but it passed quickly."

  "Fortunate, since Lord Delby would not have accepted your suit," said John, rather tartly. "If he allows Cordelia to marry anyone but a Peer, I'll eat your socks."

  "And I shall eat yours if she marries a new title," replied Harry with good cheer. "Marianne, my dear heart,
you are witness to this wager, and must ensure the loser pays up!"

  "What if she marries someone without a title, but who is to inherit one?" she asked thoughtfully.

  Charles watched as his brothers silently ran through all the peers and the heirs of their acquaintance.

  "We'll both eat our socks, and give you a guinea each," said Harry.

  "Done!" said Marianne before John could dispute the terms. "Now I know how I shall be spending my first Season back in London!"

  "Speaking of Seasons and... and social things," said Charles, before pausing to clear his throat. "Marianne, I'm afraid I have some very bad news to share with you."

  "Gordon?" she cried, the book falling from her hand.

  "What? No! No, I've heard nothing from your brother," he said, looking around for support. His mother and Aunt Eustacia met his gaze with blank expressions, while his father gave a tiny shrug, and motioned for him to continue.

  "Then what is it, Charlie?" she asked, her brows knitting together for a second before understanding dawned. "It is about that horrid man in the blue greatcoat?"

  "In part," he admitted. He got down to his knees in front of her, not wanting to stand, towering over her tiny frame as he delivered the bad news. "We think the attempt to abduct you was on the orders of Cuthbert Headley."

  "Yes, I rather supposed it was," she replied, "although it's neither bad news nor a surprise. I am well aware of what Cuthbert is, and that my Aunt is no better."

  He curled his fingers about the edge of his cravat and tugged lightly at it.

  "I'm sorry, my dear, but what I mean is that your cousin is likely to try to kidnap you again, and we must take precautions against him."

  A wary expression appeared on her face.

  "What type of precautions?"

  "Darling must we do this now?" said his mother, but Sir Joseph hushed her gently.

  "I'm afraid that we have to cancel all of our planned excursions and entertainments outside of the Manor, my dear," he said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. "You will have to stay on the grounds, too, just within the house and gardens until all of this is resolved."