“Well, I guessed he’d track us down sooner or later,” Aubrey said, staring at the fire and heartily wishing Violette’s blasted brother back at the Seven Dials.
“I’m afraid your friend Tommy might have given him more than a clue to your whereabouts. He’s here now with Lancaster and Mr Tatum.”
“Well, of all the ... the blasted lobcock,” Aubrey muttered with a frustrated shake of his head as he gave the fire the benefit of his irritation by rattling the poker some more as flames leapt up the chimney.
“I can assure you he is suffering for his actions,” Alex replied with a twisted smile. “A more mortified countenance I’ve yet to see.”
Aubrey shook his head. “Oh, well, there’s no harm in the fellow,” he said, adding only, “just not much in the way of a brain, either.”
“The thing is, Aubrey,” Alex continued, moving to sit on the arm of a rather overstuffed armchair. “There’s a lot of talk about ... about his temper. He’s not been the same since he came back from the war, and ...”
“And you think he might be tempted to run me through?” Aubrey finished for him, looking up from his crouched position by the fire.
“I hope not,” Alex replied, running a hand through his black hair. “But forewarned is forearmed, and I just didn’t want you getting a nasty surprise, that’s all.”
Aubrey snorted, rocking back on his heels. “What, like you turning up on my doorstep and interrupting my honeymoon?” he demanded, his tone dry.
“Yes,” Alex said with a rueful laugh. “Just like that.”
Getting to his feet, Aubrey laid a hand on Alex’s arm. “I’m only funning, coz,” he said, his tone more serious now. “I appreciate that you’re looking out for me. I always have appreciated it.”
Alex nodded as he stood, his grey eyes fixed on Aubrey in a manner that had always made him squirm in the past. It was a measuring, weighing up of worth kind of glance that had put a great many men on their guard in its time. Strangely, Aubrey felt quite able to meet it now and Alex smiled at him.
“Yes, you’ll do,” he said, his tone warm. “I doubt you’ll need much looking out for from now on, but you know I’ll always have your back should you need it.”
“That is good to know,” Aubrey replied, meaning it.
Alex nodded and moved back to the front door. “I’ll leave you in peace, then, but Seymour expects you to dine with us all tonight.”
“Tonight?” Aubrey replied in outrage. “Not seriously?”
“Don’t be late,” Alex advised with an evil grin as he closed the door behind him.
***
As it happened, although he regretted the fact that he was losing several hours when he could just as happily have been alone with his wife, Aubrey passed a rather wonderful evening.
After the inevitable ragging that he was forced to endure that made both he and Violette flush and cling to each other’s hands like lovesick fools, everything was rather perfect.
It was a delicious meal (his grandmother always had known how to entertain in style), and Aubrey found that he was ravenously hungry. The rueful thought occurred to him that they had barely bothered to leave the bed in search of sustenance, and he caught a glance on his wife’s face as she, too, piled her plate high. Their gazes met and he knew without saying a word that she knew just what he was thinking. She bit her lip, her lovely green eyes twinkling with mischief as she helped herself to yet another slice of beef. Aubrey chuckled and tucked in.
To his great satisfaction, his grandmother seemed perfectly delighted by Violette and the two of them seemed to be getting along famously, despite Violette’s initial qualms at meeting her. Dear old Dotty seemed enchanted too, though his maiden Aunt would have loved anyone that he loved, simply because that was in her nature.
Celeste was overjoyed to be reunited with both of her dearest friends. After the dinner had been cleared away and as the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, she told them, for at least the twentieth time, how happy she was. She then went off into floods of tears at the fact that the two people she liked most outside of her husband had married each other. Seymour threw her a suspicious look as Alex guided her to a chair and summoned a footman to bring her a glass of water.
“Oh, don’t fuss, Alex,” she chided, though with such affection in her eyes that Aubrey doubted Alex would take a blind bit of notice. “I’m just being silly. The slightest thing seems to make me cry these days. How foolish I am becoming in my old age,” she said, waving a pretty lace handkerchief in distress.
Alex snorted and slid an arm around his wife. “Good Lord, are you in your dotage?” he exclaimed in mock alarm. “You’d best summon the undertaker for this fusty old fellow, then. I’m likely to turn up my toes at any moment.”
Celeste scolded him roundly for that, fighting a smile as he pulled her closer, but there was such a wonderfully happy accord between the two of them, more, even, than usual. He turned to say as much to Violette, only to find her regarding the couple with a knowing look.
She leaned in to whisper to Aubrey. “I was once told that when my mother was expecting me, she cried at the drop of a hat. Apparently, everyone believed I’d be a watering pot because of it,” she said with a smirk.
Aubrey glanced back at Celeste and realised his beautiful friend was glowing even more than usual. She seemed to radiate good health. But the clincher was the way that Alex hovered around her like a ... well, mother bear seemed more likely than a hen, but nonetheless, he was certainly fussing.
“My mother could only eat dry toast, too, so I’m told. Though Celeste seems to consume vast quantities of cake. I wonder if that’s normal?” she mused, sounding intrigued.
Aubrey was suddenly struck by the idea of Violette carrying his child; she might even be now, at this very moment. The thought caught at his heart and his mind and wouldn’t let go, and the wave of panic that had assailed him earlier struck hard, but this time followed by the realisation that whatever came ... he would deal with it.
He was not a fool, as he had once believed - as his father had always implied. He was neither a fool, nor a wastrel, and he would provide for his family, no matter if Lord Winterbourne disinherited Violette. Perhaps things would be tight for a little while, but not for long. He would see to it.
He knew, now, that he could.
Violette looked back at him, and he felt sure everything he was feeling was evident in his eyes as she closed her mouth on the words she had been about to speak. Instead, she reached for his hand and held it tight, leaning close to whisper in his ear once more.
“I’m so terribly glad I married you, Mr Russell.”
Aubrey wanted very much to say something back, something witty and clever to express this swelling of emotion in his chest, but no words were forthcoming. Instead, he simply held her gaze and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the fingers with reverence, and knowing as he saw her eyes become a little too bright, that she understood.
“Oh, good Lord, you’ve been married for a whole two days!” exclaimed Ben from behind them, his voice one of disgust, though his eyes were alight with humour. “Put the poor girl down, man.”
Aubrey chuckled and slid a defiant arm around his wife’s waist. “Isn’t it time you were thinking about getting leg-shackled yourself, Ben?” he demanded, as his friend’s face paled with alarm.
“Aubrey,” the man replied, his voice one of deep reproach. “How could you?”
Violette giggled as Ben moved swiftly away to find a safer topic of conversation elsewhere, when the butler came in and leaned down to whisper something into his grandmother’s ear.
Her face fell and her grey eyes filled with concern as she looked up at Aubrey.
The words when she spoke were not exactly a surprise.
“Lord Winterbourne is here.”
Chapter 29
“Wherein an ogre is slain, in a manner of speaking.”
“I’m coming with you.” Violette leapt to her feet, determined tha
t Aubrey would not face her brother alone. She had been frightened by the change in Eddie the last few times in his company, and she realised, with a jolt of alarm, that she no longer trusted him. This saddened her more than she could say, as her brother had been her hero as a child. He’d been a rather wonderful, golden figure who was the source of sweets and treats and a great deal of laughter. But the man he’d been seemed to have gotten lost somewhere, perhaps on the filthy, harsh streets of the Seven Dials, perhaps on the bloody fields at the battle of Waterloo. Wherever he was, she’d not seen him since he’d returned.
“Bring Lord Winterbourne in,” Lady Russell said to the butler, her imperious tone overriding the possibility of any argument. “We will face Lord Winterbourne as a family, Aubrey,” she added, her rigid, upright figure one of such dignity that Violette felt a swell of pride in her, especially as the old lady had particularly included Violette in that statement. That unswerving determination and loyalty was evident in both Aubrey and his cousin Alex, and she smiled to herself, knowing that this was not a family who would ever let her down, who would ever abandon her, whether through carelessness or mistake, and certainly not by design. There was a sense of safety and belonging here, the like of which she had never experienced before.
Violette felt she was holding her breath, waiting for the door to open, when the imposing figure of her brother strode in.
The air of anger about him was tangible, the air fairly crackling with it as Aubrey stood to face him. Violette stood too, grasping his hand, though Aubrey moved so she was shifted behind him, as though he could shield her from the force of her brother’s rage.
“Well, a fine celebration you are all having here.” The Marquess of Winterbourne seemed to live up to his name at that moment, the words dripping ice. His eyes were cold and hard as green marble, his face pale and harsh as the winter landscape outside.
“We are,” Aubrey agreed, his voice mild. “And we would be honoured if you would join us.”
“Oh, you would, would you?” Winterbourne replied, his voice a growl of menace, the sneer behind the words perfectly audible.
“Yes, certainly,” Aubrey continued, and though Violette could feel the tension in his body, his words were calm and assured. “It would make Violette very happy, and I would think you’d like your sister happy after the misery she has suffered for the past years with the absence of your protection.”
Aubrey paused and Violette could see the jolt of what might have been guilt as her brother froze, his jaw rigid.
“However, if you have come here to make her even unhappier by demanding satisfaction or some such nonsense, I shall have to ask you to leave,” he continued, still in the same perfectly placid voice, though Violette sensed Alex moving behind them, coming to stand closer to his cousin. “And before you threaten it to me, by all means, withhold Violette’s dowry. I will not touch it, whether you do or not, and it will remain her money to do with as she so pleases. So do be aware that you will not injure me in any way, but only once more hurt your sister, who I believe has suffered enough because of your failure to put her interests first and keep her safe.”
For a moment, the whole room seemed static, frozen into an atmosphere so charged that if the spark of the marquess’ anger lit, they would all go up like a tinder box.
Violette stared at her brother and frowned. It looked to her like he was in pain, his stance was so rigid, the expression of his face so tortured behind the mask of anger.
She let go of Aubrey’s hand.
“Eddie,” she said, her voice low and soft, as though speaking to something wild. “Eddie, please don’t do this. I know you’re angry with me, and I know you don’t understand. There is no reason why you should, after all, you’ve never loved anybody before - well, other than me - and I think perhaps it worries you ... that there won’t be anybody now because I love Aubrey. I do love him, you see. I think you know that, but I still love my brother, the brother I used to have, at least.” She stepped a little closer, pausing to give Aubrey a reassuring smile when he would have reached out and held her back. She felt certain now, her brother wouldn’t hurt her. The man he was, he was still in there, somewhere, but he was hurt and angry - only it wasn’t towards her at all.
Her brother’s face was a mask, and if she didn’t know him so well, she would have believed him capable of murder, or madness, but she could see the fear lurking in his eyes, and so she stepped closer. She stood face to face with him now and curled her fingers around his like she had when she was a child, staring up at her giant big brother and demanding a piggy back.
“You should have married Ranleigh,” he said, his voice rough and angry still, though his face showed signs of anguish. “He would have protected you, he could keep you safe. He’s wealthy, powerful ...”
“Yes,” she replied, nodding and squeezing his finger. “He was all of those things, and I liked him. He was a kind man, I think; you made a fine choice for me.”
“Then why?” he demanded, the rage and confusion behind the words only too raw.
She smiled, then, and put a hand to his face, truly seeing the brother who had left and disappeared for the first time as she saw that the fear in his eyes was for her. “Because I don’t love him. I love Aubrey, and he has not ever let me down. He protected me from the moment I came to London. He put me first, even though it ruined his good name and made him the focus of a lot of gossip, which he hates more than anything,” she added, glancing back at Aubrey and feeling her heart swell as she saw the look in his eyes. “He saved you for me, Eddie. He knew losing you again would be devastating for me, and he didn’t hesitate to put his life at risk, for both you and me.” Violette experienced a rush of anger that her brother couldn’t see how very much they both owed her husband. “Money isn’t everything and neither is a stupid title,” she said, her voice rather harder now. “You’ve got titles enough for both of us, for heaven’s sake.”
“He cannot support you,” he ground out, somehow determined not to be convinced, though she knew she had won just the same. There would be no duel, though she could still see the violence lingering in his body, the need to vent the anger that had taken him over. “I failed to protect you when I left,” he said, his voice anguished. “But I vowed that would never happen again. I vowed to put you into the care of a man who would do what I had not. Are you telling me he can keep you safe and happy and support you?”
“Yes.” There wasn’t the slightest doubt in Violette’s mind as to that, but now she felt a swell of relief as she realised what had motivated her brother to act as he had. It hadn’t ever been a lack of love and care, he’d been motivated by guilt and fear. She only had to make him see that he had been wrong. “He can, actually,” she said, trying hard not to sound smug. “I believe he’s going to be a very wealthy man, and the Duke of Sindalton, Ranleigh, and apparently…” She turned back to glance at Alex who supplied the name she was looking for.
“Ware,” he replied, grinning his wolfish grin and reminding her of Aubrey the night they had arrived. She bit back a grin of her own.
“And the Duke of Ware,” she continued. “All these powerful men believe in my husband - Mr Russell. They are investing a great deal of money into a project of his devising. I don’t believe they are stupid men, do you, Eddie?”
“And you believe I am, I suppose?”
She looked up into her brother’s eyes and could only find pity at the anger she saw there, as she realised now that it wasn’t directed at her, it wasn’t even directed at Aubrey. Her brother, Edward Greyston, the Marquess of Winterbourne, was angry at himself.
“No, Eddie,” she said, lifting his big, scarred hand to her cheek and kissing it. “I know that you are not. But I think you have assumed a great deal, and never stopped to think about what I wanted, only about what you thought I needed.”
He said nothing, but he didn’t pull his hand from her grasp.
“I’m not going to ask you to apologise,” she said, knowing that he would ne
ver have done it in any case. Apologising was not something Eddie was adept at. “But I am going to ask you to make up for your appalling behaviour.”
His eyes widened a little in horror, and it was all she could do not to laugh.
“You will throw a grand party to celebrate our marriage, and to show the world how pleased you are to welcome Aubrey to the family.”
“Vi ...” he began, a warning note to his voice that she blithely ignored. “We are going to Harrogate, and then to Scotland, but we will be back for Christmas, and I expect a lavish welcome home party. That should put to rest any gossip or scandal about our hurried marriage.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Seymour said, beaming at Violette as she got to her feet. She walked over and, to everyone’s astonishment, took Lord Winterbourne by the arm. “Now, my lord,” she said, her voice grave, giving his arm a gentle tug so that he was duty bound as a gentleman to accompany her on a turn about the room. “If you should need any help at all planning the party, I do hope you will call on me. I was quite a notable hostess in my days ... Oh, the parties I used to host! The baron and I ...”
Violette watched, deeply impressed, as Seymour took an appalled-looking Winterbourne aside for a lecture on exactly what form the celebrations for Violette and her grandson should take. What was even more surprising was that her brother seemed to be bearing it with ... if not exactly good grace, then forbearance.
“Well, would you look at that!” Aubrey exclaimed, watching his grandmother wag her finger at Winterbourne in a manner that was producing an expression of pain in his lordship. He sent a pleading glance in his sister’s direction but for the moment she decided she was happy to let him suffer. She wasn’t entirely sure Seymour was still talking about the party, and felt it would do her brother good to endure a severe dressing down.
“Should you rescue him?” Aubrey asked, casting a wary eye towards the old lady and the marquess as he slid a hand around Violette’s waist.
Nearly Ruining Mr Russell (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 5) Page 25
