by Merry Farmer
“You were the one who insisted on keeping it open,” Danny told her as he crossed to take the note from Umbridge. “You said it was improper for a man to be closeted alone with two helpless females, and that the door should remain open so the other residents could hear your screams when I murdered you.” His mouth twitched into a teasing grin, especially when Phoebe’s mother huffed and bristled and thrust her nose into the air.
“I can only imagine what sort of horrid thoughts go through the mind of a man like you,” she said, pretending to go back to her correspondence.
“Mama,” Phoebe said, stepping up to Danny’s side as he read the note Umbridge had handed him. His mood improved even more at the short message’s contents. “Mr. Long is a good and decent man, and you would do well to warm to him.”
“Yes, you would,” Danny agreed, smiling as he folded the note and thrust it into his jacket pocket. “Because I’ve just received inside word that the parliamentary committee on land development will be making their decision tomorrow afternoon, and that only me and Cosgrove are left in the running, with all signs pointing to me winning the contract. They want me there when the decision is made.”
Phoebe made a delightful sound of happiness, but her mother snorted in disgust.
“Really, Mr. Long.” She shook her head, turning away from her writing desk. “Your lack of regard and respect for men whom God has placed in a position above you is scandalous. And you must refer to him as Lord Cosgrove, as befits his station.”
“Then Lord Cosgrove should refer to me as ‘sir’, because he is most surely not my better,” Danny fired back, too pleased with the turn of events to do anything other than treat Phoebe’s mother as though she were a particularly feisty barmaid. “And you should treat me with a little more respect too, ma’am, seeing as I am shortly to be your son-in-law.”
It was as if lightning had struck the room and resounding thunder rippled throughout. Phoebe’s mother’s casual irritation flashed to dire shock, and all color drained from her face. Phoebe went pale as well, stiffening at his side, her eyes wide. It was as if a judge had handed down a death sentence when the accused expected to be set free.
“You will be my what?” Phoebe’s mother hissed.
Danny frowned, turning to Phoebe. He already knew the answer, but he asked anyhow, “Didn’t you tell her that we’re engaged?”
Again, the reaction to his words wasn’t at all what he expected it to be. Phoebe’s shock switched to red-faced rage as she glared at him. “I was waiting to tell her in a gentler manner,” she said. “But you had to go and blurt it out, like you always do.”
Danny’s mouth dropped open, but before he could speak, Phoebe’s mother bleated, “You do not deny it, then? Are you engaged to this oaf of a man?”
Both Danny and Phoebe turned to her with scowls, though the scowls were likely for different reasons.
“Yes, Mama.” Phoebe broke away from Danny and approached her mother. “Danny proposed and I said yes.”
“But…but Lord Cosgrove,” her mother stammered.
“You know full well that I don’t have the slightest interest in that old buffoon,” Phoebe said, raising her voice in a way Danny was certain she wouldn’t have done a fortnight ago. “I never have been interested. I love Danny.” She whipped to face Danny. “Though at the moment I’m as like as not to box his ears for being an outspoken clod.”
Danny’s mouth still hung open. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh and capture her in his arms for a kiss or if he wanted to pick a fight so he could shout at her and vent his emotions in a different way.
“I might be an outspoken clod,” he said, settling on speaking too loudly, but not quite shouting and not storming across the room to rail in her face, “but I am far more than either of you seem to think I am.”
He regretted his outburst as soon as the words were out. There was so much he had yet to explain to Phoebe, beginning with his net worth and the extent of his land holdings. And he still hadn’t worked out a way to break the news of her own inheritance to her. Considering how furious she was with him now—and all because he’d let slip to her mother that they were engaged at an inopportune time—he was more convinced than ever that learning of her inheritance would spell disaster for the two of them. That didn’t ease the guilt of holding onto the secret for too long, though.
“I know you are,” Phoebe huffed, stomping her foot. Her words, tone, and gestures were so at odds with each other that, again, Danny didn’t know whether to laugh or to continue to be angry. Phoebe pressed a hand to her forehead. “I just want to get this afternoon’s tea over with. I am not confident in the plan, and nervousness has made me irritable.”
Danny blinked in surprise. It was a far more level-headed response than he’d been expecting. Then again, Phoebe always had been so much more than everyone gave her credit for.
“What tea are you going to?” her mother asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion as she glanced from her daughter to Danny.
“A tea in which your lovely daughter plans to catch Lord Cosgrove out and make him admit to causing the fire that destroyed my pub,” Danny snapped.
Instantly, Phoebe was back to being furious at him. Danny had to admit that, once again, he’d spoken out of turn.
Phoebe’s mother shot out of her chair, eyes wide with indignation. “How dare you confront a man who has offered so selflessly to help you for so long?” she asked Phoebe, practically quivering with indignation. “Why, Lord Cosgrove is the kindest, most considerate—” Words failed her for a moment before she tacked on, “He is a viscount!”
“I cannot continue with this,” Phoebe said, marching across the flat and shooting out into the hall. “I trust I will be back in time for supper, Mama.”
Danny followed her into the hall, too many emotions assailing him at once to feel anything but woefully out of sorts. Part of him saw the ridiculous humor in the situation. People never did behave rationally when their hearts and futures were on the line. Another part of him was stung that Phoebe could be so bull-headed with him. She was the one who accepted his proposal, after all. Wasn’t she proud to become his wife?
They barely spoke as Danny hailed a cab to take them across Mayfair to Hopewell House. Phoebe was clearly struggling with her feelings, and he needed all of his powers of concentration if he hoped to keep the frivolous plan to corner Cosgrove from spinning completely out of control. His mood was soured further when they reached Lady O’Shea’s house only to discover that Cosgrove had arrived before them. To Danny, that felt too much as though the man had scored an early victory against him.
“What is that man doing here?” Lord Cosgrove asked, rising from the dainty chair where he’d been sitting in a parlor that was clearly designed for women to gossip and titter in.
“Mr. Long is a friend,” Miss Garrett said, rising as well. She crossed to Lord Cosgrove’s side and nudged him to have a seat as though he were an ornery cow on her father’s ranch. “I invited both him and my other dear friend, Lady Darlington—”
Phoebe muttered something under her breath that sounded exasperated.
“—to join our lovely party this afternoon,” Miss Garrett continued. “After all, we have so many things in common to discuss.”
“Do we?” Frederick Harrington asked Phineas Mercer in a low mutter.
Danny was surprised to find both men there. He never would have dreamed either would be even slightly interested in Miss Garrett’s mad scheme. Though Freddy was her fiancé—which was even madder than the tea party, considering what Danny knew of Freddy’s devotion to Reese Howsden—and Mercer was…. Actually, Danny didn’t know what Phineas Mercer was—to Miss Garrett or to anyone. That realization put him even more on edge.
“Please, have a seat,” Miss Garrett went on, gesturing toward a fussy little loveseat as if she intended Danny and Phoebe to pile into it together.
“I think I’ll stand, thank you,” Danny said, marching around the back of the circle of furniture to
the side of the loveseat.
Phoebe narrowed her eyes at him, shook her head, and crossed directly to the loveseat and sat.
“I was just telling Lord Cosgrove about Haskell, Wyoming,” Miss Garrett said, pouring tea for both Danny and Phoebe from the service on the table between the various chairs and sofas. “Particularly about an incident my mother recently wrote to me about.”
“It seems there was a fire on one of the ranches,” Freddy explained, managing to keep a straight face, even though his eyes communicated to Danny that it was all part of the ruse. “A chicken coop that housed someone’s prize roosters was destroyed days before a county fair where a prize for the finest rooster was about to be rewarded.” The sheer volume of amusement in Freddy’s eyes made it hard for Danny to maintain a straight face.
Fortunately, he was able to hide how utterly preposterous he found the whole situation to be as Miss Garrett handed him his tea. “Is that so?” he asked before taking a long drink. He had a feeling he’d need whatever fortification he could get to make it through the afternoon. Why he had let Phoebe and her friends go through with the insane plan was a mystery to him.
The only man in the room who seemed to be taking the topic of conversation seriously was Mercer. “And you said that your mother thinks the arson was committed by the owner of the prize rooster’s rival in the county fair?”
“Yes,” Miss Garrett replied, her eyes fairly glittering with excitement as she took a seat on the chair beside Mercer’s.
The way she perched right on the edge of the cushion and leaned toward Mercer raised a dozen questions in Danny’s mind, none of which had to do with the matter at hand. He peeked at Freddy to see what he thought, but Freddy seemed as amused by the pairing as he was by the story. Danny shook his head slightly and took another sip of tea. He would never understand the way the upper classes thought.
Hard on the heels of that notion, Mercer turned to Cosgrove and asked, “What do you think of the situation, my lord?”
Danny expected Cosgrove to laugh the whole thing off, but to his surprise, Cosgrove sputtered and choked on his tea. “I? Er…um…well, competition of course. And…er…no chickens were harmed, were they?” He shot a guilty glance Danny’s way.
It was all Danny could do not to drop his tea and ask if Cosgrove were a raging idiot. He might not have heard the extent of the conversation before he and Phoebe arrived—anything could have been said to put the man on edge—but he couldn’t possibly be so moronic that Miss Garrett’s foolish plan would actually work.
“I’m afraid several chickens perished in the conflagration,” Miss Garrett said solemnly. “But it was the property damage that caused the greatest amount of grief. Dozens of chickens were left homeless after the incident. Doesn’t that make you feel pity, my lord?” she asked Cosgrove.
“Oh…I…pity, yes,” Cosgrove stammered.
“And don’t you think that the man who was responsible for so much destruction and displacement should behave as a true gentleman and own up to his mistakes?” Miss Garrett went on. “I, for one, would admire a man who was able to take responsibility for his actions and make amends.”
“It…it does seem like the admirable thing to do,” Cosgrove said, squirming in his seat. He went so far as to put his teacup down and to tuck a finger into his collar to adjust it.
Danny gaped at Cosgrove, hardly believing what he was witnessing. He simply couldn’t help himself when he blurted, “Don’t you see that the man they’re talking about is you, you gigantic pillock?”
In an all-too familiar repeat of the way lightning had struck at Phoebe’s flat earlier, the entire parlor went silent. All eyes snapped to Danny. Miss Garret and Mercer seemed annoyed, as though he’d interrupted their game. Phoebe looked downright livid, but her ire felt very much like the same sort she’d been harboring against him since the flat. Oddly enough, Cosgrove looked as though he’d been yanked out of the dark hole he was hiding in and thrust into the light. He looked like a man who had been caught red-handed.
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, sinking back into his seat. “I don’t know anything about the fire that destroyed your pub. I wasn’t even there. I was…I was at the ball, here, at Hopewell House. You can’t prove a thing. You’ve no way to connect me to the crime. Lady Phoebe, surely you believe I’m innocent, don’t you?” The way the lout appealed to Phoebe made Danny see red.
His patience was at an end. Cosgrove’s babbling was as good as a confession, as far as he was concerned. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny voice acknowledged that Miss Garrett’s plan had worked after all, but he ignored it as he marched around the loveseat, handing his half-drunk tea to Phoebe, to tower over Cosgrove in his seat.
“Admit it,” he said in a menacing voice. “You masterminded the arson that destroyed my pub, and you did it to try to intimidate me into dropping my bid for the Earl’s Court deal.”
Chapter 17
In the last three years, since her father died—even longer than that, if she counted the long descent her father’s behavior caused—Phoebe had watched her status and her pride be chipped away, piece by piece. It had wounded her in ways she couldn’t begin to comprehend. But watching Danny charge through what should have been a delicate situation—if it should have been a situation at all, which she still wasn’t certain of—caused something inside of her to snap.
“Must you always be so bull-headed?” she asked, setting both her and Danny’s teacups down and standing.
Danny turned to her, the fury he’d directed at Lord Cosgrove turning to surprise as she marched closer to him. “I’m tired of being treated as though my property and my ambitions don’t matter, simply because I was born to the wrong mother.”
Phoebe laughed bitterly before she could stop herself, even though a thread of deep sympathy wound around her heart. “That is precisely how I feel,” she said. “I am through with being a commodity in the eyes of men and of the helplessness thrust upon me by my father’s actions. How do you think it feels to be left without a penny to my name?”
“But you have far more than pennies to your name,” Danny fired back at her.
A tiny part of Phoebe thrummed with satisfaction that Danny would debate her with all the energy she threw at him, even though she was a woman.
“Now is not the time for this,” Lord Cosgrove blurted, standing so suddenly he nearly tumbled back to his seat again.
Phoebe sent him a withering look. “Everyone in this room knows that you were responsible for destroying Danny’s pub, my lord. There is no point in trying to deny it.” Lord Cosgrove stammered, but before he could form words, Phoebe whipped back to Danny and went on with, “Just as there is no point in brow-beating the man into a confession with as much bombast as you use while entertaining a crowd in your pub.”
Danny shifted his stance, crossing his arms. “Are you angry with me for being myself?” he asked. “Because I am what I am, love, and I have never pretended to be anyone else.”
“Perhaps you would like to continue this discussion in another room,” Miss Garrett said judiciously, standing, but looking a little too wary to step into the fray.
Phoebe ignored her, even though the sting of knowing she was being rude to a woman who was just trying to help her was acute. “I’m angry because my life was taken from me without my consent,” she said, feeling as though years’ worth of bottled up emotions had come uncorked. “I’m angry because I lost my home, whatever sense of family I had, and my pride, just as you lost your pub.”
“Then why turn harpy on me?” Danny demanded, though without the sharpness she would have expected from a man who was truly offended.
Phoebe felt as though she stood on the verge of releasing every frustration that had lashed at her for years. “Because you won’t judge me for being furious,” she said, coming close to shouting as the truth struck her.
“I won’t,” Danny bellowed, as though he were disagreeing with her instead of giving
her exactly the answer that she needed.
“But, bloody hell, man. You’re at a society tea party, not a boxing match. What good is it to browbeat a dolt like Lord Cosgrove when our friends are trying to get a confession out of him with finesse.”
“Now, see here—” Lord Cosgrove started, raising a hand as though he would debate the matter.
He was thoroughly ignored by all.
“Finesse can only go so far in business,” Danny fired back. “You’ve learned as well as I have that sometimes the direct approach, facing problems head-on, is the best way to go. You’ve learned it, and that’s why I love you.”
“Truly, the rest of us should leave the two of you to sort this out in peace,” Miss Garrett whispered, gesturing to Mr. Mercer and Lord Harrington to stand and leave the room.
Looking duly embarrassed, the two men stood.
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Danny told them. He turned back to Phoebe. “I’m sorry to have embarrassed you in front of our friends, love. I’m sorry that I behaved like I was at a music hall instead of a ball the other night, though you seemed to enjoy that well enough.”
Phoebe glanced down in the manner of her old habit for a moment. She had enjoyed watching Danny flout the rules of society. She quickly tilted her head back up and met Danny’s eyes.
“We’ll just….” Miss Garrett whispered as she, Lord Harrington, and Mr. Mercer started toward the door.
Before Phoebe could say anything, Danny rushed on with, “If you are so ashamed of me and my brutish ways, why did you agree to marry me?”
Miss Garrett, Lord Harrington, and Mr. Mercer froze. Lord Cosgrove bristled. Phoebe came dangerously close to laughing at the way Danny had of bringing what felt like everything in London to a halt with a few words. Blast him, but she loved him for that mad trait.
“You what?” Lord Cosgrove barked before Phoebe could make any sort of reply.
Danny transformed from looking as though he had wasps in his drawers to gloating like a king as he turned to Lord Cosgrove. “That’s right,” he said in his broadest Cockney. “I asked Phoebe to marry me, and she said yes.”
