by Merry Farmer
Jason’s collar seemed to squeeze tight. That in itself was unusual. Generally other articles of clothing felt too tight in moments like these.
“What does your father have to say on the matter?” he asked.
He reached for a teacake with his right hand, stopped abruptly, and lowered his hand to ball a fist in his lap.
“I’m certain father would be delighted,” Lady E. said, setting her cup down and leaning closer to him across the table. “He’s always wanted me to marry an accomplished, independent, well-positioned man. Do you happen to know of any men like that?”
Her gaze penetrated. The flash of her eyes was so acute that prickles raced down Jason’s spine. The woman couldn’t possibly expect a proposal from him now, could she? Why, if he were to propose, he would need to plan it. There was a ring to consider, flowers, the right mood, the perfect setting. He’d waited his whole life to propose to this woman. He wasn’t about to throw that away because she glanced enticingly across a tea table at him.
Not to mention the fact that with Flossie standing a few yards away, proposing to Lady E. would have been an act of treason.
Treason?
Bugger.
“I’m quite certain the ideal mate for one such as yourself, L—Elizabeth, is only a heartbeat away,” he tossed out the first pretty words that came to mind.
Lady E. blinked and sat straighter in surprise. “Oh? Well! Perhaps—” Her face softened and her eyes narrowed a bit. “—Perhaps we understand each other better than I thought?”
Bloody unlikely. He didn’t understand the first thing about Lady E. or women in general.
“Perhaps,” he answered, a little too much of a question in the word.
He squirmed in his chair, left hand fiddling with the silver fork at his place, mouth working as he scrambled for something to say. He was spared the effort by the cries of, “Uncle Jason, Uncle Jason!” coming from the path that led to the front of the hotel.
Jason turned at the same time Flossie did to see Mary, Molly, and Martha rushing up the path to him. The pure distress in their angelic little faces was enough to push Jason to his feet without a second thought.
“My dear girls,” he said as Mary ran up and crashed against him.
Her slender arms wrapped around him. Moments later, two smaller sets of arms squeezed around him as well. He did his best to hug all three girls back at once, not sparing a thought for the condition his lower extremities might be in. All that mattered was the genuine angst in his dear girls’ faces.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, a surge of adrenaline making him short.
The girls didn’t seem to mind. They separated themselves to look pleadingly up at him.
“It’s Aunt Eileen,” Mary said.
“Eileen?” A burst of fury pounded through Jason’s veins.
Flossie sucked in a breath and stepped closer. Lady E. frowned in her seat.
“Jason, who are these darling children?” she said, though there was nothing darling in her tone.
“They are Marshall Pycroft’s girls,” he answered without looking at her. “What has Eileen done?” He knew she was due in town, but the exact date of her arrival had slipped his mind.
“She’s ordering us around,” Molly announced.
“More than ordering,” Mary fretted. “She insults Papa and tells us the house is a mess, and says when we are in London, we will learn to behave like proper ladies.”
“That sounds jolly,” Lady E. piped in, still seated, smiling broadly.
The girls’ frowns deepened. “It is not jolly,” little Martha said, stomping her foot.
“She means to steal us away,” Mary went on. Her distress went beyond childish angst. Mary was old enough to know better.
“People can’t be stolen, dear,” Lady E. said, blinking rapidly. Her smile was forced now.
“They can when the thief is a lawyer,” Jason informed her. He rested a hand on Mary’s shoulder and one on Molly’s. “Did she say anything more about it? Anything that could be considered concrete and not just her fancy?”
“She said that Papa had better get used to the idea because he can’t stop her papa from filing for custody, and that no court of law in the land would award sole custody to a poor, single father when a wealthy, well-positioned grandfather made a claim.”
“But surely you girls must be eager to get a taste of London society,” Lady E. went on. She had to crane her neck to see the conversation without getting up.
Mary glared at her, then pleaded with Jason, “You have to help us run away, Uncle Jason.”
“Otherwise Aunt Eileen will steal us,” Molly added.
Jason blew out a breath. He glanced over Mary’s head at Flossie. Flossie’s expression was as distressed as he felt, but also helpless. She chewed her lip, then lifted her shoulders a hair and shook her head. Jason’s chest seized. If Flossie couldn’t think of an idea, then who else could he turn to? Lawrence?
The answer tumbled back on him with a rush of inspiration. Not Lawrence, but someone Lawrence would trust in an emergency such as this.
“Girls,” he said with sudden confidence, “run into the hotel kitchen and ask Cook to pack you each a parcel of snacks. Tell them I said so.”
“We are going to run away,” Molly exclaimed, suddenly bright with excitement.
“Just a little.” That smile was contagious, and in no time, Jason was beaming. He kissed each of the girls on their foreheads, giving Mary an extra hug. “Run along now.”
As soon as the girls scurried off, Jason strode away from the table and up to Flossie.
“What is your plan?” she asked, every bit as confident-sounding as he would have expected.
“I’ll take them to Mother Grace, in the woods. She’s the only person I can think of who would know what to do at a time like this.”
“Mother Grace.” Flossie nodded, all seriousness. “I believe you’ve mentioned her before.”
“Jason, whatever is going on?” Lady E. raised her voice to ask. She still hadn’t gotten up from her seat. “I thought we were having tea.”
Jason let out a breath. Flossie raised a brow. Jason answered her look with one he knew made him look pitiful, then turned back to Lady E.
“I’m terribly sorry, Lady Elizabeth, but I’m afraid this is an emergency,” he said.
“An emergency? But those are just children. We were having such a lovely time,” she answered.
“Perhaps some other day,” Jason replied with a tight smile. “If you will excuse me.”
He pivoted and started off down the path, sending Flossie one last look, or rather receiving one last nod of approval to bolster him for what he was about to do. He would need her support if he had any chance of helping Marshall’s girls.
Flossie
Flossie’s heart ached for Jason as she watched him stride off for the hotel. He loved those girls like his own. Anything that happened to them would devastate him. Which only raised his value, in her estimation. She said a quick prayer that the girls would be safe, then let out a breath and approached the table and Lady E.
“I can clear these things away for you, my lady,” she said with a half curtsy.
Lady E.’s gaze stayed trained on Jason’s back until he rounded the corner and disappeared into the hotel. Then she huffed.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she murmured. Flossie had the impression she was murmuring to herself, until Lady E. turned to her and said, “What has gotten into that man?”
The question wasn’t rhetorical. Lady E. stared up at Flossie with shrewd eyes.
“I….” Flossie fumbled. She cleared her throat and straightened. “Mr. Throckmorton is very attached to the Pycroft girls, my lady. Their father, Dr. Pycroft, and Mr. Throckmorton grew up together, like brothers.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Lady E. replied with an impatient wave. “That doesn’t mean he should go rushing off to entertain them when he is already entertaining someone, specifically me.”
&
nbsp; It took all Flossie had not to blink in offense. The children were in danger. Lady E. was merely flirting. “I believe Mr. Throckmorton considers the girls family, my lady, and as such, he feels compelled to come to their aid.”
“Hmm.” Lady E. narrowed her eyes, whether because she was perturbed or because she was thinking, Flossie couldn’t tell. She reached for a teacake.
“Would you like to finish your tea in private?” Flossie ventured.
“Oh no,” Lady E. replied. “I should very much like your company. Please, sit.”
Flossie’s eyes snapped wide in surprise before she could curb her reaction. “Very well, my lady,” she replied shakily.
Mind scrambling to figure out what Lady E. could possibly want, Flossie sat, or rather perched on the very edge of the chair Jason had vacated.
“So tell me, Flossie,” Lady E. began, still chewing her cake. “Does this hotel turn a profit?”
Flossie’s mouth dropped open. Does the hotel turn a profit? What kind of a question was that? And in heaven’s name, why was Lady E. asking her?
“I do not know, my lady,” she answered.
Lady E. stopped chewing long enough to send Flossie a sly smile. “Oh, I think you do.”
“Me?” Flossie’s heartrate sped up, flushing her all over.
Lady E.’s smile deepened. “Polly tells me you’re as sharp as a tack and that you know more about the goings on of this hotel than any of the rest of the staff. She assures me that you know as much as Mr. Throckmorton himself.”
Was that what she was after? Gossip? Because Polly had told her that Lady E. treated the slightest bit of news as hard currency. That knowledge did nothing to ease Flossie’s nerves.
“I am involved in some of the hotel’s business dealings, my lady, but hardly all,” she answered.
Lady E. took a sip of tea, her eyes never leaving Flossie. “I’m certain you know whether Mr. Throckmorton is in the red or the black, at least, am I correct?”
“My lady?” Flossie played innocent. Was it Jason’s worth she was trying to judge?
“Oh, come now,” Lady E. laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Surely it is not proprietary information to discuss your employer’s business dealings. I saw a group here earlier. The concierge, Samuel, informed me that they were investors, seeking to open a hotel in York. Is Mr. Throckmorton planning to go in with them? Is he seeking to expand his empire? Up his prestige?”
Flossie blinked rapidly, failing to wrap her mind around the intimacy of what Lady E. was asking. “I…I do not know, my lady. I can tell you that Mr. Throckmorton is very business savvy and that he is by no means ready to retired from his ventures, but that is all.”
“Mmm,” Lady E. hummed. She crossed her legs and rested her hands on her lace-draped knee. “I see. So he is planning to continue to be a titan of business. His reputation will surely continue to rise.”
“I suppose so, my lady.”
“And as his stocks rise, he will, no doubt, be seen in company more often.”
“Perhaps.” Though Flossie was certain that Jason had no interest in London again for any reason. If that’s what Lady E. was after—attempting to nab Jason so that she could raise her standing in society and enjoy the London life—then she would be disappointed.
Flossie caught her breath. Why would Lady E. suddenly begin to show an interest in Jason when she had shown none before? And what would Jason do now that that interest was there?
Well, he certainly hadn’t seemed at ease with Lady E. or eager to be alone with her earlier. Quite the contrary.
The silence had gone on for too long. Flossie stood.
“Please allow me to clear tea away for you, my lady,” she offered, hoping Lady E. would get the hint and be on her way.
“Thank you, Flossie.” Lady E. rose, the picture of grace and style. She fixed Flossie with a smile so charming that for a moment Flossie wondered if she was calculating ways to woo her in order to win Jason. The notion was preposterous. “Please thank Mr. Throckmorton’s cook for an excellent tea.”
“I will, my lady.” Flossie executed the perfect curtsy, bowing her head and holding the position until she heard the swish of Lady E.’s skirts as she walked away. Thank heavens! She wasn’t sure she could take the lady’s maneuvering and questions for another moment. Why Jason was so fixated on the woman was beyond her.
And what would she do if Lady E. decided he was a prize after all?
She didn’t have time to contemplate it.
As soon as Lady E. was gone, Flossie rushed through clearing up the tea things and taking them inside. She handed the lot off to the first male servant she found, then rushed through the dining room toward the lobby. If Jason had left without warning for the afternoon, there was likely a mountain of business that needed seeing to.
“Larking about with the nobs now?” Samuel lobbed the bitter question at her as she swept through the lobby.
“What in heaven’s name are you talking about?” she asked, in no mood for a verbal joust.
“I saw you having tea with Lady Elizabeth out there,” Samuel went on. “You really think you’re special, don’t you?”
“Lady Elizabeth only invited me to sit as she asked questions she thought I would have the answers to,” Flossie told him, rounding the edge of the front desk to pop into Jason’s office.
“And what questions might those be?” Samuel followed her, leaning against the doorframe, eyes narrowed.
“Whether Mr. Throckmorton intends to lay off impertinent staff,” she lied.
“What?” Samuel stood straight before calling her bluff with sneer.
The mail had arrived at some point while she was serving tea. Flossie snatched it up off the desk, thumbing through the bills.
“There was a letter for you as well,” Samuel told her, his sharp smile returning. “From your sister. More sad news, no doubt.”
Flossie tried to hide the way she caught her breath. She put Jason’s mail down. Samuel had caught on to the type of correspondence Betsy had taken to sending her, and since her sister’s letters always resulted in a bad mood, he loved their arrival. She marched back through Jason’s office to the staff mailbox that sat behind the hotel’s front desk. Sure enough, a letter from Betsy was waiting.
As predicted, when she took the letter aside and tore it open, the message was the same. The missive began with cheery tidings of everyone’s health and well-being, then gradually sunk into tales of woe and all of the hardship that the family was trying to hide from her. Betsy always tried to put the best face on things so as not to make Flossie worry, but there was always something underlying the cheer, always something that meant her family needed her assistance.
“Oh dear,” Samuel goaded her when she dropped the letter and bit her lip. “Sounds like bad news again.”
Flossie glared at him and marched across the lobby and out into the sunshine. It would do no good to let Samuel know that he was right. She sat on the edge of one of the garden walls and read the letter again. This time her mother had fallen ill. Apparently there was an epidemic of influenza sweeping across the country, snatching victims left and right. The kernel of doubt that always lingered in Flossie’s chest when she read these letters was there, but then again, she had heard travelers coming from the east mention an outbreak of influenza. She really should find a way to send her sister more money to pay for medicine.
She should also figure out a way to determine just how ill her mother was, to visit home if she needed to. Jason would let her go, without a doubt. But should she go? Could she really afford to leave Jason when Lady E. was showing up at the hotel unannounced for tea?
“Ah, Flossie. Is Jason here?”
Flossie glanced up to find Lawrence Smith striding up the path from the hotel’s front gate. His expression was unusually grave. Beyond grave, it was angry. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Lawrence Smith angry. Not like that.
“No, he’s not,” she said. She tucked the letter into her apron pock
et and walked to meet Lawrence on the path. Something was wrong. The second something in one day.
“Do you know where he’s gone?” Lawrence asked.
Of all people, Flossie knew she could be perfectly open with Lawrence about Jason. “He’s taken the Pycroft girls to Mother Grace’s house,” she whispered.
“He’s what?” Lawrence blinked in shock, starting at Flossie.
An uncomfortable sense of doom slithered down Flossie’s spine. “The girls came by earlier,” she explained. “They were upset because their aunt Eileen is here, and they believe she will take them away to London. Mr. Throckmorton must believe it too, because he jumped into action, taking them to Mother Grace’s to hide them.”
Lawrence shoved a hand through his hair and swore under his breath. “Do you know about Mother Grace?” he asked, eyeing her warily.
Flossie pressed her lips shut, weighing how much she could reveal without having to answer questions about how she knew. “She has been mentioned to me,” she said.
That was enough of an answer for Lawrence. He shook his head. “I come here to ask him for advice about protecting innocents, and it turns out he’s one step ahead of me.”
“You know about the Pycroft girls?” Flossie asked.
“I know that as soon as Marshall finds out Jason has dragged them up to Mother Grace’s it could mean the end of their friendship.”
Flossie clapped a hand over her stomach. “Oh dear.”
Lawrence’s expression softened. “I exaggerate. Nothing could end that friendship. But Marshall won’t be happy when he finds out where they’ve gone.”
“Should I tell him?”
Lawrence winced, weighing the situation before them with a strained hum. At last he said, “You’d better. Unless you have pressing business at the hotel.”
Flossie shook her head. “Nothing is more pressing than the welfare of those girls.”
Lawrence burst into a sudden smile. “No wonder he thinks so highly of you.”
That comment shouldn’t have sent Flossie’s insides into a spin, but it did. “He values my competence,” she said.
