A Proper Scandal

by Paula, Rebecca

  “But if my mother was correct, then I am your legitimate son.”

  The man scoffed. “Your mother lived for lying.”

  Alex took a deep breath, his hands itching to hit the man. “I suppose you were the man who tried to turn away my investors.”

  “Your association with that woman is unacceptable. She is no better than your mother.”

  Maybe the world did implode then, because the world went black. When he came to, Alex had a fistful of the man’s shirt in his hand and they were nose to nose over his desk. “You have no right to speak of Miss Ravensdale as such. Or to close down my theater. Or to have any say over my life.”

  “I thought you were dead. You were meant to be a secret.”

  “You killed my mother; isn’t that enough?” Alex shoved the man to rest against the back of the chair and stood. And on a short breath, his voice dangerously low, he said, “And you almost killed me.”

  The man appeared ruffled, his face red as he pulled to straighten himself. “That place was meant to kill you. You don’t deserve the air in your lungs.”

  Alex ignored the man’s insults. They didn’t hurt like they once had. “I know a man in need of money when I see one.”

  “The family needs money,” the man bristled.

  “Family? You come to me trying blackmail, denying me as your flesh and blood, then demand money. I owe you nothing.”

  At that, the man shot up. “I gave your mother everything and she got herself with child by some filthy mick who mooned over her. She deserved to be punished for her corrupted decisions. I refuse to have my reputation ruined because she was too weak-willed to keep to womanly morals. I was her husband. I was her husband, damn it!” he yelled.

  Alex stared at him, the words sinking in. “What was his name?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “His name.” Alex stepped forward, backing the man up to the wall. When the man gave no answer, Alex grabbed him by the collar and hefted him against the wall with a satisfying thud. “This is what will happen. You will tell me my father’s name and you will leave. If I see you here again or hear about your interference with my theater, be sure that I’ll see you ruined. I’m not that helpless secret you tried to kill off like a coward.”

  The man flailed, knocking over a few items off the desk, rolling into the table. The gas lamp faltered, tipping and crashing to the floor.

  Alex tightened his grip, the anger boiling below his surface. “And if you do anything to harm Miss Ravensdale, run. I know half of London’s secrets and they owe me favors. Very. Large. Favors.”

  Air wheezed out of the man’s lips, his eyes rounded wide at Alex’s threat. Alex shoved him back into the wall again. A cackling roared through the office, a soft sound at Alex’s heels. He shoved the man against the wall again.

  “Michael Rowan. He was a fucking poet, a fucking Paddy poet who couldn’t—”

  Heat licked at Alex’s heels, the bright orange reflecting in the man’s beady black eyes. He didn’t loosen his grip as he turned, discovering a line of fire that caught across the carpet, climbing up the curtains by the window to lick the ceiling. Smoke began to billow and cloud things.

  “He was what?” Alex demanded. “Headly! Fetch some water. Headly!”

  “They’d been sweethearts. She tried to run away to marry him, but her father had insisted she marry me.”

  The fire swept across the bookcase, climbing up the walls now.

  Alex looked at the man who was supposedly his father, then to the fire burning, consuming everything he had worked for. “Damn it. Get out! Get out now. I’m not done with you yet, but if you die, you’ll be no use to me.” He shoved the man toward the door. “Everyone, out!” Alex bellowed.

  He held his forearm across his face as he ran back into his office. Black smoke clouded his vision, snaking its way into his lungs. He dove for his desk as the fire leaped, burning by the door, blocking his exit. He opened the door, grabbing the photo of Minnie and that piece of navy ribbon, tucking them into his shirt pocket, then grabbed what ledgers he could.

  “Get out,” he yelled again, his voice caught off by the smoke in his throat. “Fire!”

  He grabbed his jacket by his desk, then held it in front of him as he leapt through the flames by the door, shocked to discover the fire had already consumed the hallway. The building was going up like a box of matches.

  Fire singed his arms but he stumbled forward, blindly searching the smoke-filled hallway. “Headly, Boyd, get everyone out.” If he could make it to balcony to oversee the rest of the floor he could be sure the players got to safety. The boxing ring was closed, so the basement should be cleared.

  He tripped over a body, that of the man who saw to end Alex’s life before it began. “Wake up, you bastard,” he snarled, shaking the man.

  But he didn’t move. Alex began to drag him, moving too slowly for the speed of the fire consuming his club. Then a burst of orange flames bloomed, exploding forward as a window shattered. The explosion knocked Alex to the ground. A smoking beam from above fell, crumbling and collapsing on top of him.

  Christ. The smoke filled his lungs, his eyes burning as he tried to push it off. “Wake up,” he shouted at the man. But his voice remained in his chest, the smoke robbing him of sound. He labored another breath, as the world began swimming around him. He kicked his legs, trying once more before something struck his head.

  Heat wrapped around his body as he struggled to wake up.

  “Alex.”

  He fought to come to, angry at the wicked trick of her voice luring him. His siren. His Minnie. His heart.

  Chapter 25

  Minnie woke alone her in her bedroom, left to stare at the well-appointed blue canopy above her head. Her throat was still raw, her eyes burned. Her heart was empty.

  Her room was perfumed from vases of flowers crowding every table surface. Her nightstand was graced with medicine the doctors had prescribed, to be administered by a nurse. She remembered little else but Alex’s body on the floor as she searched for him at the club. She had gone to apologize and found the man she loved near dead, trying to saving a stranger to his club.

  She tried to push herself up, wincing as the skin pulled, feeling as though she was coming apart like a doll worn at the seams. It wasn’t far from the truth; she looked like a mummy must, wrapped up in bandages from the burns, lathered in salve. Her head was cloudy, her mouth dry from the morphine. Minnie reached for the glass of water by her bedside table, then dropped it as her bedroom door clicked open.

  Alex stood in the doorway, freshly shaven, smelling as if he had just taken a bath. One side of his face was a deep scarlet, covered with a coat of salve. He had an arm in a sling, his shirtsleeve rolled up to reveal thick bandages mirroring her own.

  “Good, you’re awake.” His voice had a deep timbre, the usual lilt swallowed up to a rough cadence.

  “You’re alive,” she answered. Minnie collapsed back into her pillows, cursing as the pain shot through her limbs as if she were back in those flames.

  “Some stubborn girl saw to that. And when she’s well enough, she’s going answer why she was in my club in the first place.” He closed the door behind him, padding barefoot across her plush carpet. “You could have died, Min.”

  “I thought you had. And I couldn’t—”

  “Why were you there?” He bent down slowly, grabbing her glass and filling it with the pitcher from her bedside table.

  She deserved his anger. She had been incredibly cruel and foolish. But to hear it ring so clearly in his pointed words was akin to a knife in the heart. She was his darling and he had never treated her like this before.

  “I needed to speak to you,” she said, swallowing a sip, attempting to make room on the bed for Alex, too intimidated as she stood there beside her, bearing down on her as if he came to collect an apology and leave her life for good.

  “There is nothing left to say.” Alex propped himself up against the bed’s edge.

  �
��I needed—” Minnie stopped, sure that if she continued, she would fall to pieces and never get to what she wanted to say. “There is...there is something left to say. Something left for me to say anyway. I only ask that you listen, and then you can leave. If you must.”

  “Leave? I’ve nothing left. The club is totally lost. The man who claimed to be my father didn’t survive the fire. He passed from the smoke in his lungs. And I sat in that hospital waiting for you to wake up. Damn it, why were you there? If I’d lost you too…” Alex threw his head back and sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “There is nothing—”

  “I would like to ask...that is, I was hoping that you may have changed your mind.”

  “Changed my mind?” Alex sat down on the bed, peering down at her with eyes full of fire. “Changed my mind?” He laughed roughly, clearly stricken by her words. “Have you changed yours?”

  “Well, there is this hole in my life with you gone, and it’s uncomfortable.” She was doing a horrible job at persuading him. She reached her hand out toward him, horrified that he drew back, more aghast that his hand was wrapped up in bandages as well.

  “You have your big success now. You’ve conquered the hearts of Europe. People fall at your feet and beg for autographs. And don’t think I haven’t heard about the absurd offers from your latest round of admirers.” That admission kindled a brief flicker of hope. “And you have quite a collection of pretty things now. You have your own home in London, furs, and dine at the best dinner parties. What more do you want?”

  His hand finally moved forward, gently covering hers. “You’re quiet, Minnie. You came to the club to tell me something, I believe. What is it?”

  “You haven’t given me the opportunity to speak,” she snapped.

  “What more can you drain from me?”

  Minnie trembled, pain filling her body. It might have been from the burns, but she thought this had a lot to do with her sweet Alex staring down at her, so close to walking out of her life. He was alive; he was alive and all she wanted in this moment was his lips on hers, to feel his arm wrapped around her. They had survived. They’d face the rest tomorrow. If only he wanted her.

  “You look confused. Do I need to remind you?” He stretched out his hand and splayed his ink-stained fingers out to tick off. “I have gone hungry for you. I have been arrested for you. I have been shot for you. I have committed crimes for you. I have been shunned and gossiped about and slandered because of you, Minnie. My life is your life if only because you have shaped it as if you were Lady Fate herself. What more do you want of me?”

  Minnie stared back, wide-eyed and speechless.

  “Well?”

  Her chance of happiness dangled before her. As each painful moment passed, she saw him slipping away.

  Alex threw his head back at the ceiling and sighed. She could not move. And when she didn’t say anything, his shoulders settled into a firm line. “What do you want, Minnie?” His voice was full of exhaustion. He avoided her stare, instead raking his hand through his hair. “Nothing?” he asked, arching his eyebrows. “Fine, I’ll fetch the nurse. They’ve been fussing that I’m here. I’m sure everyone will be happy to have me out of the way—”

  “You.” Minnie didn’t recognize her own voice. It was small and trembled, drowned out by her racing heart.

  Please, please, be mine, Alex.

  “What?”

  “I said you. I want you, Alex.”

  He stiffened, his eyes glazing over.

  “I think, that is....I don’t know why it’s taken…” Minnie stuttered. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing to fade away instead of begging at Alex’s feet. “I’ve been the biggest fool.”

  “Open your eyes.”

  He leaned forward, tipping his weight on the mattress to draw them closer. He peered down his broken nose at her, still straight-faced and serious. Dread. That was all that filled her.

  “You’re the world’s worst liar. Have I told you that?” She opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her. “Are you done proving your point now?”

  He didn’t remove his hand as Minnie eyed him warily. Alex slipped his fingers from her lips and rested them under her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his.

  “What point?” she whispered.

  “That you can’t live without me.”

  “I did,” she answered, her mind still reeling. “I mean, I can live without you.” She stopped for a moment, searching for the right words to explain. “It’s just that I’ve found it to be...it’s intolerable. And when I found you at the club, I thought I had died there right alongside you. For the second time.”

  “Is that the truth?”

  As she nodded, a few tears escaped the brims of her eyes.

  Alex pulled her close carefully and kissed her slowly, making unspoken promises. “Have you come back to me?”

  “Yes,” she said, sniffing back her tears. She fumbled at the collar of her nightgown and pulled free the long length of chain where she had kept his ring safe all those years. “I cannot promise it will be easy, but I want to stop this foolishness.” She clumsily unlatched the tiny clasp and slid the ring free into her palm. “And I’m sorry.” Minnie held out her hand, watching with a smile as Alex took the ring in his hand and looked it over.

  “I thought this was lost.”

  “I always kept it. I’ve worn it,” she said tapping over her heart, “for all those years.”

  “You deserve something nice, Min. You can have any ring you want.”

  “I want this one,” she said, sticking out her left hand. “Let me come home. Let me be yours. For good. Forever.”

  Alex looked up at her, his hand hovering with the ring over her finger. “This means...” he started.

  “Yes, I know. I’m asking you to be my husband, Alex. If you’ll have me.”

  His grip tightened over her hand, before pushing his signet ring down the length of her finger. “Leave it to you, Minnie Ravensdale, to propose to your husband.”

  Minnie looked up eagerly.

  “You’re worth the trouble,” he said over her lips. “C’mere, darling.”

  Epilogue

  Four months later

  The curtain slowly descended to the floor, dampening the stage lights. The crowd still clapped, a thunderous roar that, despite the curtain, echoed through the set pieces and scurrying actors backstage eager to end another performance.

  And in the center, her head bowed, her arms full of pink roses, stood Minnie lost in reverence.

  Alex stood in the wings, his hand pausing from bouncing the rubber ball, his attention, as always, pinned to the woman who was much larger than a star of the stage. She was far better than the acclaimed actress London adored now, far lovelier than the snooty society ladies gave her credit for, even when they tried to copy everything about her.

  Minnie Ravensdale was a magical girl, a woman far too great for the cage the world tried to place her in. And tonight, she took flight under the cover of darkness. Wild hearts might not be predictable, might not be easy to love, but Minnie had proven over and over that she loved wholly, recklessly.

  And by some miracle, she had loved Alex, the boy who fled from the edge of the earth to make a life for himself, to discover a name for himself. He’d made a man out of a boy left for dead, a shameful secret. Falling for Minnie was easy. Loving her wasn’t, but Christ did he ever want to keep trying day after day.

  “I see you skipped the club tonight, Mr. Marwick,” Minnie said, slowly walking toward him. The skirts of her dress swished softly over the polished floors. She was a dream wrapped in satin and diamonds. And that smile of hers, the one that could right every wrong for Alex, pierced through the dim light. She lightly touched his arm, trying to walk past.

  Alex hauled her back. “I had other plans tonight, I believe. Or so Boyd told me.” He kissed her brow, then her cheek, and then her neck for good measure. “Do you have plans tonight, darling?”

  She wiggled
out of his hold, peeking at him over her shoulder. “Perhaps.”

  Grace waited by Minnie’s dressing room and ushered her sister inside, winking at Alex. “I’m not my sister, Mr. Marwick. Your charms don’t work on me, much. You know the rules. You have to stay out here. Boyd should be here sorting out the rest of the arrangements.”

  He laughed, turning before she rushed up, straightening the tie on his tux.

  “I’m going to be glad to have you as a brother, in truth this time.” Grace, the name personified, daintily pinned on a corsage. “Thank you for loving my sister, for your kindness, for fighting for her when the rest of the world turned their back.”

  He swallowed, his stomach suddenly knotting. “Gracie, you’re—”

  “I’m a great many things, Alex. Or so everyone tells me. I’m a girl in love who wishes only to have a chance at having my happy ending as you find yours. Congratulations.” She left, entering Minnie’s dressing room before poking out her head once more. “No peeking. We’ll be out shortly.”

  The wedding filled the papers, fashion designers all but tripping over themselves to design the wedding dress of Minnie Ravensdale. It was going to be the event of the season, even if society did not fully embrace an actress marrying the Irish tycoon from Whitechapel. There were those who had turned their backs on the Ravensdales, and others, with the encouragement of the Duke of Ashbornham allowed them to remain in the good graces of society.

  The wedding would be large, the guests including some of the biggest names in Europe. And it wouldn’t be happening as planned for June.

  Alex stood in front of the priest, Boyd standing right behind him. The theater was empty, the curtain once again raised. A grand piano had been wheeled in for Grace. She exited the dressing room, winking to the two men, then waving to the rest of the Ravensdales, who sat in the front row as she took her seat at the piano.

  The bridal march began softly, quickly filling up the theater with the same riotous beat that echoed in Alex’s chest as Minnie emerged, dressed in a simple white dress and lace veil. Her stage makeup was gone, and instead of the large bunch of roses, she held a small posey as she proceeded up the small aisle Boyd had made with some carpeting from the props department. She was the girl who smelled of roses, the one he fell in love with who was bed sheets and sunshine; those hazel eyes.