Always a Scoundrel
Page 27
Finally Abernathy sagged into a chair, as though all the air and pomposity had fled his body. That was it, Bram realized. Care and concern for his daughter wouldn’t sway him, but pride and fear of embarrassment would. Hm. Perhaps Rosamund had an even worse father than he did, after all. It was a rather stunning idea.
“Why don’t you present him with the money yourself?” the earl finally asked, the last blustering of a defeated man.
“He wouldn’t accept it from me. We’re not on speaking terms. And I don’t owe him the blunt. You do.”
“Very well. But I won’t be grateful to you or thank you, because I know you’ve arranged this to gain yourself something. The details can’t elude me forever.”
“All I’m attempting to gain is a chance at salvation.” Bram set the glass aside. “Be certain Cosgrove withdraws the betrothal announcement from the newspapers.”
Abernathy bristled a little at the order, but with another look at the money on his desk, he subsided. That was that, then.
“Good day, my lord.”
Bram left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Only then did he close his eyes to send up a quick prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening. He hadn’t won the lady, he was now eight thousand quid in debt to his brother, and he’d made an enemy of a very dangerous man. And he still felt like shouting and dancing a jig.
The hair on his arms lifted, and he opened his eyes again to see Rosamund looking down at him from the stair landing. He put a finger to his lips, indicating the office behind him. All he needed was for Abernathy to overhear them and think there was indeed a conspiracy afoot.
With a nod she descended to the second step. A glance at the foyer showed the butler to be elsewhere. Bram reached up, putting a hand at the nape of her neck, and drew her face down to kiss her. Soft as a sigh, it sank into his soul.
“Thank you,” she whispered, lifting her head to look down at him, one hand touching his cheek.
“You are exceedingly welcome.”
“And now we need to rescue you.”
Bram broke away from her. “I’ll deal with it.”
“But you’ve helped me. I want to return the gesture.”
“You were an innocent party in this,” he whispered, clenching his hands to keep from pulling her over the railing and into his arms. Self-discipline. He’d never been much good at it, and he’d chosen the devil of a time to attempt to master it. “I am not innocent. I want—I want to declare myself to you, and in front of everyone. But if I need to pay for some of my sins, I’ll do it without dragging you down with me.”
“There’s a chance Cosgrove was bluffing about having proof, don’t you think? That he was only trying to force your hand?”
With a half grin, Bram rose up and kissed her again, openmouthed. “You are becoming quite the expert with the wagering terminology. And yes, he could be bluffing. I suppose we’ll find that out after your father calls on him.” He glanced over to see the butler returning to his post. “I need to leave.”
She reached out to grab his sleeve. “Are you attending the Clement soiree tonight?” she asked.
Smiling, he backed toward the front door. “I am now.”
“Any sign of him?” Sullivan asked, reining in his big black, Achilles, brother to Bram’s Titan.
Phin shook his head. “You know he’s dodging us on purpose.”
“And unfortunately he knows London better than you and I combined.”
In the middle of Haymarket Street they were fairly damned obvious, but clearly the plan of scouting places Bram was otherwise unlikely to be wasn’t working. Uttering a curse, Sullivan swung Achilles in a tight circle.
“The least likely place I can imagine him going is to Johns House,” Phineas said after a moment, scowling.
“Levonzy? Not even if it snowed in Hades.” Sullivan glanced around them again. “Let’s give it a try then, shall we?”
“You lead. I don’t even know the damned address.”
Bram sat on a barrel behind the duke’s stable. Munching on a peach, he paged through the Roman history book he’d borrowed from August earlier in the day. It had cost him five pounds, but the grooms and stable boys had sworn not to reveal his location to anyone, least of all Levonzy. And Titan seemed to be enjoying grazing on the grass in the shade.
Hiding from friends probably wasn’t very heroic, but it was the surest way he could think of to keep them out of this muddle. It was amazing the way one good deed had so irrevocably knocked his entire way of thinking, his entire life, on its arse. Now he wanted everyone to be safe and happy—and the best way to see to that seemed to be by keeping away from them.
“You owe me a quid,” Phin’s voice came from the corner of the stable.
“He’s actually not inside the house,” Sullivan’s low drawl returned, “so I’m not certain you’ve won the wager.”
Rolling his eyes, Bram snapped his book closed. “You two louts are more clever than I expected,” he grunted, taking another bite of peach. “Huzzah, you’ve found me. Now go away.”
“We’ve been to see Lord Haithe,” Sullivan continued, dragging another barrel over and taking a seat on it. “Have you given the blunt to Abernathy yet?”
“August is a damned wag. Yes. I gave the money to Abernathy.”
“And?”
“And what?”
Phin leaned against the tree trunk opposite. “Nice weather we’re having. A good day for a duke’s son to be arrested as a burglar, don’t you think, Sullivan?”
“No, the wind’s a bit too easterly,” Sullivan took up. “A better day for fleeing to Scotland, say, until this mess gets cleaned up.”
“Hm. You may be right. What do you think, Bram?”
“I think I’m attending the Clement soiree tonight and dancing with Lady Rosamund Davies. You can go holiday wherever you like.”
“So you’re not going to attempt to find a way around this?” Sullivan picked up a stone and hurled it toward the garden. “You know damned well you didn’t keep anything you took. It more than likely went for a better cause than it ever would have been used for, otherwise.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the bloody point?” Phin snapped.
“The bloody point, Phin, is that I want to clean my slate. I’m finished with being a fool for no damned good reason. I don’t want to evade this. I want to face it head-on. And the only reason I’m in hiding at the moment, other than to avoid you two, is because I want one more chance to see, to dance with, Rosamund before Bow Street comes to collect me. There. I’m sentimental and maudlin, now. Hardly worth the effort of rescuing.”
“And of course if you are arrested, you won’t have to risk proposing and being turned down a second time. One last dance and a romantic, cowardly farewell.”
Bram pushed to his feet. “What would you have me do then, Sullivan?” he snarled. “Deny that I’ve done anything wrong? Blame it on someone else? I’ve been a scoundrel. I only see one way to make amends for that.”
“That’s well and good and noble, I suppose,” Sullivan shot right back at him, “but it also leaves Cosgrove free, and no one to look after your Lady Rose.”
“You two will look after Lady Rose.” Bram stalked over to Titan, slid the bit back into the black’s mouth, and swung into the saddle. “Do yourselves a favor. Stay home tonight.”
Sullivan and Phin exchanged a glance as Bram exited the property. “So we’re to protect Lady Rose from now on,” Sullivan muttered.
With a grim smile, Phin shook his head. “That’s not what he said. He said we’re to look after her. Which I would take to mean we’re to see that she’s happy.”
“Ah. Well, we’d best take care of that, then.”
Rose held her breath until her father and James returned to the house, the promissory notes her brother had signed over to Cosgrove back in their custody. With a puff of smoke from the morning room fireplace, her obligation to the Marquis of Cosgrove ended. For a long
moment she perched on the couch, intense relief pressing at her. Just as quickly, too soon for any real elation, reality crashed back down around her shoulders. She sat there, keeping her expression cool and pleased for the benefit of her family. At this moment no one else could know what had dawned on her this morning—that her monthlies were a bit overdue.
She pushed that thought away. Going from one thing she couldn’t control to another, was too much. Later she could decide whether she was mistaken, whether this could be another chance for a changed life or the tombstone to decorate the old one.
“I have to say,” her mother commented, as they watched the papers burn, “though it would have been lovely to see you as a marchioness, Rose, Lord Cosgrove’s reputation left a great deal to be desired.”
“It did, indeed,” her father agreed. “There’s a bit of madness to that fellow, and I sincerely hope our paths do not cross again.” He sent a pointed look at James.
“Yes, Father,” the young viscount said, his demeanor uncharacteristically subdued.
That didn’t bode well. Her sense of impending trouble deepened. “James, would you assist me with retrieving a book from the top shelf in the library?”
“Of course.”
“Rose, you are unattached again,” Lady Abernathy pointed out. “Gaining a reputation as a bluestocking will not help your prospects.”
“Yes, Mama.” Clearly she was never going to be appreciated as anything but exchangeable goods. She wanted to leave them to their own self-concerned lives, and there they were, back to the way everything had been before Cosgrove. Except for her, that was. She had changed. Irrevocably.
As soon as she and James were alone in the library, she grabbed his arm. “Tell me what happened. Everything that happened.”
He shrugged her off. “It was just business. You don’t need to hear that boring drivel.”
“James Elliot Davies, you tell me—”
“Devil a bit, Rose. King was surprised. Startled. Like we’d caught him with his trousers down. I ain’t ever seen him caught off balance before. And he wasn’t happy. At all.”
“But you got back the notes. He accepted payment.”
Her brother took a deep breath. “He pushed for information, and Father told him we were gifted with the funds to repay my debt. Cosgrove asked if it was Bram. He said Bram had played a good hand, but he would lose the game. It was so…odd. All this time I thought he was at the top of the pole, with the rest of us ranged below him. But now I ain’t, I’m not, so certain it’s not Bram looking down at the rabble—except that he had nothing to gain by giving us the blunt.” He faced her squarely. “Did he?”
“Don’t you dare, James. You caused this mess. Simply because Bram and I like one another doesn’t mean he had anything but altruism in his heart.”
James gave a short laugh. “You just used ‘like,’ ‘Bram Johns,’ and ‘altruism’ in the same sentence.”
Rose smiled reluctantly. “I will concede that it’s an unlikely combination. But he has some things at risk, too. More than you realize.”
“A few weeks ago you wanted to punch him in the nose.”
“A few weeks ago I was only acquainted with the tales you told about him.” Her smile fading, she gazed at her younger brother. “Both you and I have been given a second chance, James. Tell me truthfully—are you going to gallop back to Cosgrove’s side now and lose shocking amounts of money to him all over again?”
He shook his head. “No. I saw a side of King this morning that…well, frankly it repulsed me. And frightened me a bit, too.” James grimaced. “If Bram don’t—doesn’t—mind me hanging about him, I’d like to learn some of his skills, though.”
Oh, splendid. “What skills would those be? More gaming?” He’d merely shifted his idolatry from one rake to another. If James had learned anything from this mess, he seemed to be keeping it to himself, except that his grammar was improving.
“No. Well, perhaps a bit. But mainly the way he knows things, and how he walks into a room and everybody notices.”
Hopefully that wouldn’t include losing money, then. And if James wanted to emulate anyone, she much preferred that it be the Bram she’d come to know over the past few weeks. If he had the chance to do so.
Her chest constricted. If Cosgrove had been as angry this afternoon as James claimed, public accusations could be the least of Bram’s worries. Oh, why hadn’t she made a greater attempt to talk him into fleeing with her? The thought of not seeing him, of being unable to chat with him and touch him and kiss him—it hurt so much that her mind kept turning away from it. Especially now, when the connection between them had literally become a tangible presence. Or it could, it would, in eight months or so.
“Rose?”
She shook herself. “What is it?”
“Father said that Bram means to call on you. I don’t want to be blamed for getting you into another mess, so do you want me to warn him away?”
It would be like trying to separate a moth and candlelight. “No. That’s not necessary.”
“Very well. Now did you actually want a book lifted down, or may I go?”
“Go.” She took his arm again as he walked by her. “There is one thing you could do for me,” she continued in a lower voice.
“I’m not going to murder anyone for you.”
“What? Oh, good heavens no. Did Papa have any money left after he repaid the marquis?”
“About fifteen hundred pounds. Why?”
Rose hesitated. James wasn’t precisely her first choice of confidant. At the moment, though, she didn’t seem to have much choice. And technically the money belonged to Bram, anyway. “Bram and I may need to flee London.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Oh, dear.” She took a deep breath. “Bram is the Black Cat, James. He’s stopped his burglaries, but Cosgrove knows. If he does as he threatened and makes his accusations in public, Bram will be arrested.”
Her brother stared at her. “Bram’s the Black Cat?”
“Yes.”
“But he wagered ten quid it was the Duke of Storey. It’s on the book at White’s.” James frowned. “Come to think of it, Storey only has one leg, and he’s eighty years old. Bram had to know he wouldn’t win the wager.”
“This isn’t about a wager, James. Please pay attention. Is there any way you can find out where Papa put that money? If we have to leave Town, we’ll need some ready cash.”
“If he’s accused, why are you leaving?”
“Because…because as I said, I’ve become quite fond of Bram. Exceedingly fond.”
“I’m fond of him, too, but that doesn’t mean I’d let myself be ruined because of something he did.”
“He became involved in this because of me. That makes this partly my burden to bear.”
The look her brother sent her was impossible to decipher, but after a moment he nodded. “Father’s not likely to trust me enough to tell me where any blunt is, but he’s only got three hiding places here. The man has no imagination. Give me a couple of hours to get around him, and I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you, James.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he grumbled. “When Father realizes what’s happened, I’m likely going to be running close behind you.”
The afternoon remained quiet, and though Rose jumped each time the front door opened, no word arrived about either Bram’s thefts or his arrest. She began to hope that Cosgrove had been bluffing, and that he didn’t have any proof of Bram’s activities after all. If that aggravatingly handsome, charming, dark-haired man would bother to simply stop by the house and inform her one way or the other, perhaps she could stop pacing and finish her blasted handkerchief embroidery.
For heaven’s sake. If she’d been a man, she would have ridden out to find him. And then she would punch him in the nose, not because she disliked him, but because she was so blasted worried she couldn’t even think straight.
Chapter 20
“You look very nice, my dear,” her father said, as she descended the staircase.
“Thank you,” she returned, giving a shallow curtsy.
“Stay close by tonight if you can,” the earl continued, dropping his tone. “We’ve paid off Cosgrove, but he may approach you anyway. Try to be civil; as far as anyone knows, you are only friendly acquaintances. We want nothing to alter that perception where our fellows are concerned.”
For a heartbeat she’d thought him concerned over her safety and well-being, until she considered that he was only attempting to preserve the facade—that the Davies family had no troubles, past, present, or future. “I’ve never wanted anything to do with him. I intend to make every effort to avoid him.”
“Avoid his friend, too. I have no wish for this family to be caught in the middle of a disagreement between Cosgrove and Bram Johns. It’s a damned coil of snakes.”
The family was the middle of the disagreement. She was, anyway. “You have nothing to worry about where Bram is concerned, Papa,” she said aloud. “He and I are friends.”
“Tell yourself whatever you like, Rose, but Bram Johns is only a friend to someone who has something he wants. Best guard your virtue, or he’ll have you as another of his light-skirts, and I’ll have you out from under my roof.”
For the space of a heartbeat Rose was tempted to tell him that she’d lost her virtue several times over to Bram, that she was likely carrying his child, and that it had been her idea to begin with. Thankfully her mother and James appeared before she could seriously contemplate that foolishness.
It was more likely, anyway, that having lost this game, Cosgrove would go on to torment someone else. She would once again be the chit no one noticed, doing her best to keep her silly family from looking foolish and wondering whether that would be the sum total of her existence—except for that lingering, growing hope that one man would be looking directly at her. A warm tremor ran down her spine.