To Write a Wrong

by Jen Turano

  “You most certainly were, and your attempts increased the older you got. You were always acting coy around me, pretending to avoid my company—or better yet, swooning, which resulted in your being placed on a chaise in a most appealing fashion as people plied you with smelling salts or waved a fan in front of your face, causing your hair to flutter. I always knew what you were doing, though. You were whetting my appetite for you and making sure that you kept my attention on you and no one else.”

  The heaviness in her stomach began to turn to nausea, something she’d felt before when being this close to Thomas.

  He moved so quickly she didn’t have time to react, taking hold of her arm, smiling pleasantly at her all the while.

  “Let . . . go . . . of me,” she managed to get past a throat that had turned constricted.

  “I don’t think I will. It’s past time you and I made things . . . right between us.”

  Daphne tried to scream, but it was as if she was suddenly incapable of sound as Thomas dragged her down a hallway that was devoid of people. Before she knew it, he was pulling her into a room, shutting the door with his foot, and then dragging her toward a divan that sat in front of a window.

  Halfway across the room, little black dots began to obscure her vison.

  She fought against the dots even as she tried to wrestle her way out of Thomas’s hold, but the dots increased instead when she felt Thomas place his hand over her mouth.

  “Take your hands off her.”

  Mere seconds after she heard Herman snarl those words, Thomas’s hand was no longer covering her mouth. Given the thud she heard, and then a resounding crash, she assumed Herman had punched Thomas, but she didn’t know for certain because she was slowly crumpling to the ground, Herman’s strong arms catching her before she hit the floor.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Four

  Rage threatened to consume Herman, but he couldn’t allow himself to let that rage loose, not yet at least.

  For now, he needed to get Daphne safely away from a threat she should never have had to face on her own, one that could have destroyed her if the man he’d seen trying to attack her had been successful.

  Pulling Daphne’s limp form close, Herman nodded to Cooper, who was already standing over the man Herman had punched. “Stay with him. I’ll return shortly.”

  As Cooper withdrew a pistol from his pocket, Herman strode out of the room and into the hallway, debating which way to go, wanting to keep Daphne far away from the prying eyes of guests.

  Thankfully, Eunice suddenly stepped from the stairs and into the hallway. She faltered for the briefest of seconds but then hurried forward, her attention settled on Daphne.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t have time to explain, but Daphne needs to go home. Immediately.”

  Eunice shoved up her veils, her eyes narrowing at the slight tear on the delicate neckline of Daphne’s gown. She gave a jerk of her head and spun on her heel. “Follow me. We’ll take the servant stairs.”

  In no time at all, Herman was placing Daphne on the seat of her carriage, Eunice having returned to the ball to gather Daphne’s family. He opened Daphne’s small evening bag, blowing out a breath when he found not a single vial of smelling salts nestled inside.

  “Of course this would be the night you’d decide not to have smelling salts readily available,” he muttered as the carriage door swung open, revealing Clara and Burton.

  “Eunice told us Daphne fainted,” Clara said, climbing into the carriage, kneeling on the hard carriage floor and taking Daphne’s limp hand into her own. “And here I made light of her earlier complaint about how tightly she needed to be laced up in order for that gown to—” She stopped talking, quite as if she realized that speaking about corsets in front of him was hardly proper.

  “She didn’t faint because of her corset, Mrs. Beekman,” Herman said, abandoning the rules about unmentionables because he didn’t have time for exceptional manners at the moment. “But I’m afraid I can’t go into the details now. I have a matter of supreme importance to handle. I’ll explain everything when I return to your house. It won’t take me long to deal with . . . well, I’ll get more into that later.”

  With that, he left Clara holding Daphne’s hand as she searched in her own reticule with her other hand for her smelling salts. He climbed from the carriage, stopping when Burton laid a hand on his arm.

  “Shall I come with you?”

  Even knowing that, as Daphne’s father, Burton had every right to be included in what needed to happen next, Herman knew that a father could not be expected to deal well with learning what had happened to his daughter. His reaction could very well draw attention from the guests, something that would leave Daphne’s reputation in tatters.

  “That wouldn’t be wise. You should escort your daughter and wife home. As I mentioned, I won’t be long, and then I’ll explain everything.”

  Burton opened his mouth to argue, but before he could speak, Eunice hurried their way, Lydia holding fast to her hand.

  “Has she come to?” Eunice asked.

  “Not yet,” Herman said.

  “Lydia, get in the carriage, dear,” Eunice said before she turned to Burton. “You need to get in the carriage as well, Mr. Beekman. Herman will handle the matter, as will Cooper, who is already on the case, so to speak.”

  “But I don’t know what this matter is about,” Burton said.

  “And I can’t tell you out here, so get in the carriage. The sooner we get back to your house, the sooner I can tell you what I think happened.”

  When Burton refused to move, Eunice took hold of his arm, all but shoved him into the carriage, climbed in after him, then slammed the door shut as the carriage surged into motion.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Herman headed for the house again, not bothering to retrace his steps to the servants’ entrance when he saw Mrs. Devonshire standing on the front steps, waving at him.

  “I just heard that Miss Beekman suffered a fit of the vapors,” Mrs. Devonshire began after Herman strode up the steps to join her. “May I dare hope she’s already feeling better, Mr. Henderson? And dare I hope that it was nothing too troublesome that brought about that fit of the vapors?”

  Herman summoned up a smile, a feat that was almost impossible to accomplish. “I’m certain Miss Beekman will be fine, Mrs. Devonshire. She remarked to me after our dance that she was feeling warm. She repaired to a retiring room, but I fear she must have been far more overheated than she realized. Thankfully, I went to check on her not long after she left the ballroom.”

  Mrs. Devonshire raised a hand to her throat. “How fortunate you were there for her.”

  “Indeed,” Herman said. “But if you’ll excuse me, I believe I left something in the ballroom.”

  “Would you care for me to have the servants help you in your search?”

  “I don’t believe that’ll be necessary.” Presenting Mrs. Devonshire with a short bow, Herman strode into the house, his progress to the second floor impeded time and again when guests pressed close to him, anxious to hear the details of Daphne’s swoon.

  By the time he made it to the stairs, his control over his temper was tenuous at best, that temper turning to rage once he climbed the stairs and stalked into the room where he’d found Daphne being accosted.

  The man he’d punched was slouched down in a chair in a room that appeared to be a guest bedchamber, given the beautifully appointed furnishings but lack of personal items. Blood dribbled from the man’s nose, something that gave Herman a great deal of satisfaction.

  “He’s not said a word, Herman,” Cooper said, his pistol held in a steady hand that was directed at the man.

  Herman stalked closer. “I hope you won’t be too distressed to hear that I’m going to tear you limb from limb for having the audacity to lay so much as a finger on Miss Beekman.”

  The man withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his nose. “You might want to reconsider that after I tell
you that Daphne was more than receptive to my touch, and—”

  Herman didn’t hesitate to draw back, his fist connecting with the man’s jaw a second later, sending the man to the ground.

  “We just heard about Daphne and saw you going up the steps, Herman, but . . . what is going on in here?”

  Shaking out his hand, Herman found Jack, followed by Arthur and Frank, striding into the room. Frank, thankfully, had the foresight to shut the door behind him.

  Herman returned his attention to the man now pushing himself up to a sitting position. “You should ask him what’s going on, although be warned, he’s a liar.”

  Jack came to an abrupt halt. “Thomas?”

  The man swiped his hand over a lip that was now bleeding and grimaced. “Jack. I sure am glad to see you.” He gave a jerk of his head to Herman. “This lunatic just attacked me.”

  Herman frowned. “You know this man?”

  Jack returned the frown. “This is Thomas Sibley, a friend of the family.”

  “Given what I just caught him trying to do, he’s no friend to Daphne.”

  “What do you mean?” Jack turned his attention to Thomas. “What happened with Daphne? Mrs. Devonshire ran me to ground on the ballroom floor to tell me she’d fainted, then told me Herman came back into the house to retrieve something.” His brows drew together. “I’m beginning to think Herman didn’t return to fetch an item but instead to settle some type of matter with you.”

  “There’s nothing to settle,” Thomas said. “This man is obviously possessed of an overly active imagination. He clearly misunderstood what he walked in on, but instead of behaving rationally, he assaulted me.” Thomas narrowed his eyes on Herman. “I’ll expect an apology for attacking me without cause, just as I’ll expect an apology for you interrupting my time with Daphne.”

  “If anyone has an active imagination or a proficiency with twisting truth to suit your own purposes, it’s you,” Herman said. “I didn’t misunderstand anything.” He turned to Jack. “I came to check on Daphne after I finished a dance with Lydia. I couldn’t find your sister at first, and even sent a maid into the ladies’ retiring room to see if she was in there. She wasn’t, which is why I headed down the hallway, thinking maybe she’d gone to find a quiet place to write. I got halfway down the hall when I heard something through the door of this room. It didn’t sound right, so I went to investigate. When I walked in here, I saw Thomas attempting to force himself on Daphne.”

  “That’s not true,” Thomas shot back, getting to his feet. “What you actually saw was Daphne and I enjoying an, ah, intimate reunion.”

  It took less than three seconds to reach Thomas again, and a mere second more for Herman’s fist to connect with the man’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward, although this time Thomas stayed on his feet.

  “Daphne would never agree to an intimate reunion with you, especially since her opinion of you, Mr. Sibley, is not favorable,” Herman said through teeth that were now clenched.

  Thomas ignored that as he turned to Jack. “You must know this man is lying.”

  “But what exactly were you doing with Daphne?” Jack asked. “How did it come to be that the two of you were alone in the first place?”

  Thomas dabbed his handkerchief over a lip that was now bleeding freely. “Your sister sought me out earlier in the night, longing to speak privately with me. She’d heard I’d been paying attention to Lydia and wanted to discuss the matter. We agreed to meet up here after the first dance was over.”

  “That’s not true,” Herman said. “Daphne came up here because she wanted to have a quiet moment to jot something down in her notepad.”

  Thomas rolled his eyes. “I would have hoped she’d abandoned her habit of carrying that dratted notepad around with her at all times by now. However, I suppose it’s not something I need to worry about for much longer since she won’t have a reason to jot things down after we’re married. I fully intend to demand that she gives up her writing days.”

  “She won’t be marrying you,” Herman shot back, words Thomas once again ignored as he turned to Jack.

  “Your sister and I are to be married. We came to that agreement once Daphne disclosed how jealous she was about the attention I’ve been giving Lydia. She then went on to beg my forgiveness for turning down my suit years ago.” He dabbed at his lip again. “You know I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Daphne. I, of course, assured her that she still held my affections, and then we were merely sealing our renewed happiness over being reunited when that man burst in on us.”

  Jack frowned. “I never got the impression Daphne ever held you in any affection, Thomas. Quite the contrary. In fact, she recently reiterated her dislike for you, and believe me, she didn’t mince words.”

  Thomas waved that aside. “Come now, Jack, surely you noticed how Daphne watched me over the years.”

  “I never noticed Daphne watching you,” Jack said slowly.

  “Of course you did.”

  “When, specifically, would I have noticed her watching you?”

  Thomas tilted his head before he smiled. “The night of Fourth of July, it had to be . . . maybe ten years ago or so? She made it a point to twirl her hair in what was a most provocative manner, knowing that the twirling would capture my attention.”

  Herman’s body stilled as his thoughts whirled into overdrive. “Fourth of July . . .” he muttered under his breath. “The stray dog.”

  The night when Daphne had experienced a horrendous fit of the vapors, a night where something had terrified her so much that she’d lost consciousness, as well as lost almost all memory of what happened to her.

  His hand clenched into a fist, but before he could move, Arthur and Frank were racing across the room, Frank grabbing hold of Jack’s arm while Arthur moved to stand directly in front of Jack, blocking his way to Thomas as Jack tried to lunge forward.

  “Let me go,” Jack rasped.

  Thomas frowned. “What is wrong with all of you?”

  “That night was twelve years ago, and my sister would have only been thirteen years old. A child still,” Jack bit out. “She wouldn’t have been twirling her hair to attract your attention, she would have been twirling it because she had a habit of doing so when she was daydreaming up those stories of hers.” Jack’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. “I swear, you better not be about to tell me that you touched my sister that night.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Jack strained against the hold his brother still had on him. “Let me go.”

  “Hear him out,” Arthur said quietly. “We need to know what happened, and we won’t discover that if you render him senseless.”

  Herman watched as Jack drew in a deep breath, drew in another, then nodded to Frank, who didn’t release him but did seem to relax his hold.

  “I remember Daphne repairing to the carriage to fix her hair that night,” Jack said. “I also distinctly remember her fainting, as well as all of us searching around in the dark for whatever it was that frightened her. What I don’t remember is where you were when she repaired to the carriage, Thomas.”

  “I would hazard a guess that Thomas was with Daphne, which is exactly why she fainted,” Herman said when Thomas began taking a marked interest in blood splatters on the front of his formerly pristine white shirt. “I also wouldn’t hesitate to say that Thomas could very well have been trying to force his attentions on her that night, exactly like he was trying to do tonight.”

  “Is that what happened?” Jack demanded.

  Thomas looked up. “I don’t need to force my attentions on any woman. They flock to me, seeking my attention, not the other way around. Your sister, difficult as this is going to be for you to hear, is no exception. She followed me that Fourth of July night and begged me to kiss her. I am a man, after all, and we men enjoy kissing women, but before I could enjoy a kiss with your sister, she crumpled to the ground, apparently so overcome with excitement that she fainted. That put a rapid end to any thought
s of romance on my end and . . .”

  The rage that had been coursing through Herman increased in that moment. He didn’t bother to rein it in as his legs ate up the space that separated him from Thomas, who was still going on about Daphne, although what he was saying, Herman had no idea, giving the sound of his heart beating furiously in his ears.

  Ducking his head, he rammed into Thomas, taking him to the ground. Rearing over top of him, Herman grabbed the lapels of Thomas’s jacket and gave him a shake. “Daphne was an innocent child. How dare you try to cast blame on her for your repulsive behavior, but that’s what men like you do, isn’t it? Excuse your behavior by claiming no responsibility for your actions and instead lay blame at the feet of your victim.”

  Arthur suddenly had ahold of Herman’s arm, pulling him away from Thomas, who rose to his feet, glaring all around before his attention settled on Cooper. “I don’t appreciate you keeping that pistol trained on me. I suggest you put it away before you accidentally shoot me.”

  “I’m a Pinkerton. I don’t accidentally shoot anything.”

  Thomas blinked. “A Pinkerton?”

  “Indeed,” Cooper said.

  Thomas rubbed a hand over his face. “I wasn’t expecting that, but are you intending on taking me in? I assure you that would be a waste of your time. While I won’t deny that I was alone with Daphne this evening, she was willing, eager even, to be with me. And if she were to deny that, no one would believe her. Nor would any charges you may wish to press against me stick. My father wields considerable influence in the city, as do I. Besides, if I were to be taken in, word would get out about Daphne being alone with me and she’d be ruined. Granted, once she marries me, those nasty rumors would disappear, but until then, well, she would surely suffer under such . . . scrutiny regarding her morals.”

  “That’s it,” Jack snarled, wrestling out of Frank’s hold, only to be grabbed by Arthur before he could reach Thomas.