The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part One

by Farmer, Merry

  Marshall huffed. “Spoken like the heathen you are,” he said. “Mark my words. Someday, you’ll see the joys and benefits of marriage as it is supposed to be and you’ll rush headlong into it.” He grinned at Alex.

  Alex’s face was so hot she feared the garden wouldn’t need the electric lights to be illuminated. What kind of marriage had she entered with Marshall? She’d been as mercenary in her aims as Jason Throckmorton. Although at least she harbored a great deal of fondness for Marshall.

  All thoughts of Jason and Flossie’s impossible situation were banished as Alex stepped into the ballroom on Marshall’s arm. Part of her hoped it would be as difficult to locate her mother inside as it had been outside, but the moment her eyes adjusted to the room, there she was. Her mother and Anthony Fretwell stood talking to Elisabeth and Jason near the center of the room. Worse still, George and Lady Arabella stood with them.

  “Oh, Lord,” Alex whispered, pressing a hand to her stomach.

  “You’re all right,” Marshall told her as they approached. “I’m right here with you. You’re among friends.”

  Alex nodded tightly, but her stomach pulled into tighter and tighter knots as they drew near. Jason looked up and spotted his friends, and a look of intense relief filled his features. Elisabeth, however, took one look at Alex and lost her smile. She pursed her lips together and tilted her head up the way she did when she was offended. Alex couldn’t fault her for her reaction. She should have been more forthright about her plans with her cousin.

  She braced herself as their group of four joined the much finer six. She could do this. Marshall was with her. They were married. There was nothing her mother could do to take her away from the life she’d chosen for herself now.

  “Good evening, Mother,” she greeted her with a hopeful smile.

  Her mother was silent. The conversation her group had been having stopped abruptly. Mr. Fretwell cleared his throat, his face mottling. George snickered. Lady Arabella glanced down, embarrassed.

  At last, her mother tilted her chin up, jaw clenched tight, eyes blazing with fury. Only, she didn’t look at Alex. Instead, she turned to Jason. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Throckmorton, I feel the need for a drink.”

  “I’ll take you to get one, pet,” Mr. Fretwell said.

  Alex opened her mouth, but nothing came out before her mother stomped off, her heels clicking under her skirts.

  “Arabella, darling, would you like a drink as well?” George asked Lady Arabella. Before she could do more than open her mouth to reply, George said, “Good,” and dragged her off after his father.

  Alex was left feeling snubbed and abandoned. She watched her mother’s retreating back, stiff as a board, her heart squeezing in panic. She’d expected fireworks. She’d expected fury. She wasn’t remotely prepared for frigid silence.

  “Well, what did you think would happen?” Elisabeth snapped.

  Alex pivoted to face her, stung by the haughty indifference of her cousin’s expression. “I thought she’d be angry.”

  “She’s livid,” Elisabeth insisted. “The moment she returned yesterday and discovered you weren’t at home, she nearly tore the rafters down with her fury. And then George showed up and informed us all that you’d gone and married Dr. Pycroft.” She sneered, looking down her nose at Marshall. Marshall stiffened at Alex’s side. “Really, Alexandra. It would have been a lark if you simply wanted to bed him for fun, but to marry someone like that?”

  “Marshall is a good man and a good doctor,” Alex said, her words far less defiant than they’d been two days ago in the same room when she’d defended him to George.

  Elisabeth made a derisive sound. “He’s the child of God only knows who. You live in an attached building that houses three other homes now, don’t you?”

  “Where we live has nothing to do with—”

  “Honestly, Alexandra. You were meant for so much better,” Elisabeth sniffed.

  “If you object so much to marrying orphans,” Lawrence spoke up with the kind of passion that none of the rest of them could have gotten away with, “then why are you marrying Jason?”

  Elisabeth’s face went red and she glared at Lawrence, whether because of what he’d said or how he’d said it, Alex didn’t know. She had no interest in standing there exchanging words with her cousin.

  “Excuse me,” she said. She let go of Marshall’s arm and marched across the ballroom to the refreshment table. If her mother was of the same mind as Elisabeth, she had to know.

  “Alex.” Marshall followed her.

  She didn’t stop until she had reached her mother’s side. “Mother.” She touched her mother’s sleeve.

  Her mother recoiled as though she’d burnt a hole in her gown. “Don’t touch me, you irredeemable trollop.”

  Alex flinched back, her eyes wide. “So I’m an irredeemable trollop now?” she said, finding an ounce of energy to defend herself at last. “Because I married a man of my choosing?”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any way it could be undone,” her mother said with a sniff, turning up her nose at Marshall as though he stank. “No chance of an annulment. Men of his class are notoriously base. I’m sure he’s spoiled you several times over.”

  Guilty heat flooded Alex’s face. Her mother was right, but only about the one thing. “I chose to marry Marshall because I believe he can make me happy,” she insisted. “Because he offered me the life I’ve always wanted to live. I told you I wouldn’t go back to Hampshire.”

  “You most certainly will not,” her mother agreed with surprising strength. “I wouldn’t allow it now.”

  Alex wasn’t sure where to go from there. She’d gotten what she wanted, and it appeared her mother wasn’t going to fight for her. “I’m glad we’ve come to this understanding, then,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and fidgeting. “I’ll come fetch the rest of my things as soon as possible, and—”

  “What things?” her mother asked, her anger mounting.

  “The rest of my clothes,” Alex said, “and my personal belongings. I could only take one suitcase with me when I—”

  “You have what you have, and that’s all you’ll have from me, you ungrateful wretch.”

  Alex blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me,” her mother growled. “You took one suitcase, and that’s all you’ll have from me. You deserve nothing else.” She paused to gather herself, staring down her nose at Alex once more. “I think you’ll find that your bank accounts have been closed, both the one I have been funding and the bequest from your Uncle Gerald.”

  “What?” Alex gasped, clamping a hand over her stomach. “You can’t—”

  “If you want to debase yourself by marrying into the lower classes, then you will enter that life in all its glory,” her mother snapped. “You won’t see a penny more of my money or any Dyson money. Your name has already been struck from the family Bible, and I’ve sent for my solicitor to strike you from my will and your Uncle Gerald’s will at once. I no longer have a daughter.” She whipped away, facing the refreshment table, visibly shaking.

  “Mother.” Alex tried to reach out to her, but Mr. Fretwell stepped between them, a picture of righteous indignation.

  “I think you should go now,” he said in a low murmur. “And if you ever accost my poor Charlotte again, I’ll see to it that you regret it. She’s been through enough already.”

  Alex’s mouth hung open as she glanced from Mr. Fretwell to her mother. Her mind reeled. She’d known things would be horrible, but to be disowned? To be treated like trash because she’d taken her life into her own hands and fought for the dreams that she’d shared with her own father years ago?

  “Father would be disgusted with you,” she hissed as those thoughts bubbled to the surface. “You betray his memory by casting me aside this way. This would have broken his heart.”

  It was her turn to storm off before her mother could think of any sort of answer to those words. As she left, she
caught George laughing into his hand and Lady Arabella weeping openly. At least somebody was weeping for the pitiful situation.

  Only, before she’d taken more than a dozen steps, Lady Arabella wasn’t the only one weeping. A sob welled up from Alex’s soul before she could stop it. She froze in place in the middle of the room, clapping a hand to her mouth.

  “Come on,” Marshall said, looping his arm around her. He pushed her into motion, steering her away from the bright lights and swirling colors of the party guests. They crossed into the lobby, then out into the cool, dim evening as hot tears streamed down her face. “We’re going home,” Marshall said, supporting more and more of her weight as walking became more difficult. “Home,” he repeated. “And that’s all that matters.”

  Flossie

  “And so, I would like to end by asking you all to raise your glasses for a final toast,” Jason said as he stood in front of the dais where the orchestra sat, Lady E at his side. “To my beautiful wife-to-be, Lady Elisabeth Dyson.”

  “To Lady Elisabeth,” the crowd echoed, lifting their crystal glasses high.

  Flossie tried to hide her grunt of disgust, but it was a losing battle. She stood in the corner of the ballroom near the kitchen, directing porters with trays to areas of the room where the guests looked as though they needed more wine. Though if anyone were to have asked her, enough wine had circulated through the high-brow crowd already to sink a ship.

  “Thank you, Jason, darling,” Lady E said, practically dripping off Jason’s arm. Flossie had to hand it to the woman, she was an exceptional actress.

  “Marty,” Flossie reached out to catch one of the senior porters as he passed with a tray of empty glasses.

  “Yes, ma’am?” Marty answered with perfect respect.

  “Let’s see if we can help wind things down here,” Flossie said with a poorly concealed grin. “Have the boys gather up any empty wine glass, anything that’s only half full, and any dessert plates that have been left lying around. Then ask Mr. Perry to slowly dim the lights. Let’s make these people believe it’s time for bed.”

  “It is time for bed, ma’am,” Marty grinned.

  Flossie let out an ironic laugh. “Not for the clean-up crew.”

  Marty made a face of agreement, then nodded and went about his work. The spectacle at the front of the room was over, and the orchestra struck up the opening notes of a final waltz. Jason was in the middle of trying to get away from Lady E, but she grabbed him and dragged him out to the floor to dance.

  Flossie nibbled her lip as she studied them. She hadn’t been able to catch Jason alone all day to ask what was wrong. And something was most definitely wrong. The way his shoulders were bunched under his coat, the way his smile was as tight as a fiddle string about to snap, the way his gaze hadn’t been able to focus on anything throughout the night, the way he moved so stiffly, keeping his hips tucked in…they were all dead giveaways. Jason was suffering. And if he suffered, she suffered.

  “Don’t they make a gorgeous couple?” Polly asked sweeping up to Flossie’s side and grabbing her arm the way she had when the two were growing up.

  “They look quite impressive,” Flossie agreed. Her heart sank, not because of the display Jason was putting on with Lady E, but because there had been a time when Polly was her deepest and truest friend, someone she thought she could share anything with. Now Flossie was convinced Polly was no more her friend than Lady E herself.

  “Lady E has been so excited for this party,” Polly went on, a sparkle in her eyes that said she’d had a few too many glasses of wine herself. “She begged and pleaded to get some of her London contacts to come all this way for it.”

  Flossie’s brow shot up and she turned to stare at her friend. “Begged and pleaded? Lady E?”

  “She knows how to get what she wants,” Polly said, watching her mistress with a sly grin.

  “What does she want this time?” Flossie asked.

  “She wants people talking about her before she goes down to London after Christmas.”

  “So she’s going with Jason when he and Dr. Pycroft travel down for the custody trial?”

  “Yes,” Polly answered. “She said she wouldn’t miss a chance to make a grand entrance for the world. And she’s taking me with her.” She giggled and squeezed Flossie’s arm.

  Of course Lady E was taking Polly with her. The two were as thick as thieves. More than that, though thinking about it gave Flossie a headache. She turned to study Jason as the dance continued, wondering if he knew of Lady E’s London plans yet. It could be a good thing. Chances were that once in London, Lady E would want to stay indefinitely. Which meant that once the Pycroft girls were secure and Jason returned to Brynthwaite, they could carry on without Lady E’s interference. At least until the wedding in June.

  “Why are people leaving?” Polly asked with a pout, standing straighter, but swaying as she did. “This is a party. They should stay and make the most of it.”

  “It’s past midnight,” Flossie said, parading her toward the door.

  Polly made a dismissive sound, sending spit flying in the process. “In London, people stay up at parties until the sun rises the next day.”

  Flossie laughed. “Well, this is Brynthwaite, not London. Any party that continues past midnight is in danger of incurring the wrath of Mayor Crimpley.”

  “That old sourpuss,” Polly snorted.

  “Come on,” Flossie said, tugging her through the doorway to the lobby between bleary-eyed, smartly-dressed guests. “Let’s find you a place to sit until Lady E is ready to go home.”

  She plopped Polly on one of the benches in the lobby, where her friend immediately rolled her head back against the wall and shut her eyes. Flossie was a long way from shutting her eyes, though. She rushed back into the ballroom to see how her staff was doing at convincing the guests to leave. Already, the crowd had thinned considerably. Enough so that she had a clear view of Jason and Lady E near one of the French doors to the garden, their heads together. Judging by the color on each of their faces and the stiffness of their posture, they were bickering again.

  Flossie sighed and rolled her eyes. She knew full well everything that was at stake in the game Jason and Lady E were playing, and but for the Pycroft girls, she was convinced it simply wasn’t worth it. Jason was strong enough to achieve the level of recognition in society that he craved without Lady E’s influence. And Lady E…well, she could sit on a tack for all Flossie cared.

  “My dear Miss Stowe. May I congratulate you on the startling success of your party?” Lord Merion surprised her. Flossie hadn’t seen him coming.

  “Thank you, my lord.” She smiled and curtsied slightly to him.

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to continue the party in my room?” he asked with a lascivious curl to his lip.

  Flossie never thought she’d see the day when she was grateful for all the unwanted male attention she’d received at Crestmont Grange, but it had prepared her to answer a firm but graceful, “I’m honored, my lord. But I’m afraid I have far too much work ahead of me to consider your offer. I do hope you aren’t offended.”

  Lord Merion laughed, the sparkle in his eyes amused. “I’ve never been set down in such a gracious manner. Throckmorton achieved a coup in hiring you, I think.”

  “My lord?” Flossie arched a brow in curiosity.

  “Who in their right mind would think to hire a woman to run a hotel?” Lord Merion said. “But I see that you are not only accomplished at the task, you have the grace and cleverness to avoid impertinent old goats like me.”

  Flossie broke into a lopsided smile at the odd compliment. “Thank you, my lord.” Her mind raced, not only for ways to control the situation in front of her, but to give Jason the advantage in everything he needed Lord Merion to accomplish for him. “Were I free,” she said, leaning closer to him. “I might just take you up on your offer.” She added a saucy wink for good measure.

  Lord Merion burst into a deep peel of laughter. “That’
s the spirit.” He clasped a hand to his heart. “My dear, I am your servant,” he said. “Though forgive me if I go fishing in other waters. I don’t have the constitution to spend the night alone.”

  Flossie kept her laughter in check as she did a quick scan of the ballroom. “There,” she said, nodding to a handsome woman in a sophisticated ball gown who loitered near the orchestra, pretending to listen. “I believe Mrs. Compton is fishing for a dance.”

  Lord Merion followed her gaze, and his brow rose. “An excellent choice,” he said with a smile. “I am in your debt.”

  He winked, then headed across the ballroom to take his chances with Mrs. Compton. Flossie turned to continue her duties, but as she checked on Jason at the other side of the room, she found him staring at her, a bleak look in his eyes. Lady E was nowhere to be seen, thankfully, so she marched across the ballroom toward him.

  “It appears as though the party has been a success, sir,” she said, firmly in the role of his employee for the moment. “Congratulations.”

  “Was he bothering you?” Jason snapped. His color was still high, and there was a dangerous light in his eyes.

  “Lord Merion wished to have company for the evening. I assisted him in finding it.” She nodded across the room to where Lord Merion was offering his arm to an eager Mrs. Compton. When she turned back to Jason, she dropped character long enough to say, “I handled it. It’s all right. You need to go to bed.”

  “I can’t,” he said, his breath shallow, unable to settle his gaze on anything. “I’m never going to be able to sleep again. I can’t…I can’t even think.”

  Flossie pursed her lips, her nerves pulling taught. “Jason, look at me,” she snapped, careful not to be too loud. When Jason dragged his eyes to meet hers, she went on with, “Go upstairs. Now. Wash up and get ready for bed. I’ll be there soon.”

  He nodded, then darted off across the room at a frantic pace. Flossie watched him go, worry knitting her brow. He hadn’t argued with her or said anything about seeing his guests off. His shoulders were still bunched, and his steps were stiff. He’d obeyed instantly and thoroughly in the way that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up on end.