by Merry Farmer
Phin stepped into her, clasping her face with both hands and crashing his mouth over hers in a kiss that not only silenced her, but hopefully banished every miserable thought from her mind. He was still boiling with anger over the way she’d kept the truth from him. If she loved him, surely she would have confided in him long before now. She would have explained from the start why she couldn’t marry him at present. He continued to be furious with her, but his heart and his body couldn’t resist her, no matter how wicked she was.
He kissed her possessively, harshly, even. That angry part of him wanted her to know she belonged to him, even if she didn’t. He kissed her with a rough passion designed to prove that he was the only one who had any right to her. He parted her lips and thrust his tongue against hers, owning her like a rogue. And like the courageous woman she was, Lenore grasped his sides, digging her fingertips into his body as if to tell him he could try to dominate her all he wanted, but she would always have the upper hand.
Only when Hazel cleared her throat and muttered, “Do either of you want this tea I’ve just gone through a heap of trouble to make or would you rather go to bed?”
Phin broke away from Lenore, frowning at his sister. He expected Hazel to wear a sly grin, but her expression was deadly serious. Then again, Hazel had seen enough of the darker side of life to know that the only way to get through it was to find humor wherever possible.
“Frankly, I want to go to bed,” Phin growled, taking another step back from Lenore. “Alone,” he specified, although that was a bald-faced lie. If not for his sisters and their habit of prying where they shouldn’t, he would have dragged Lenore up to his room and made love to her in a dozen different ways that would have shown her precisely who had the upper hand in their relationship. He would have been a rake and a cur for doing so, but he had a feeling they both would have enjoyed it, no matter how many bruises they each ended up with.
“I think I’d better go to bed too,” Lenore said in a hoarse voice, her eyes alight with fire, as if she could read Phin’s thoughts. She turned and marched swiftly out of the room.
As soon as she was gone, Phin let out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. And here he’d thought whisking Lenore away to the country and the safe bosom of his family would make the stars align and everything come clear.
“You certainly do know how to pick them,” Hazel said, pouring herself a cup of tea after bringing the teapot to the table.
“Aside from the lying, being married to another man, engaging herself to Freddy Herrington with no intention of marrying him, and cockamamie plot to flee her homeland, Lenore is a perfect angel,” he growled, stomping to the table and sinking into a chair, then reaching for the teapot and one of the cups Hazel had waiting.
“Be patient with her,” Hazel said on a sigh, pouring milk into her tea. “She has a lot to sift through.”
“If she’s telling the truth,” Phin growled.
“Oh, she is.” Hazel reached into the box of Lenore’s documents and took out a small newspaper clipping. She slid it across the table to Phin.
Phin reluctantly picked it up and read it. “Range Wars Heat Up As Five Killed,” the headline read. The article went on with, “News from the wild frontier has taken a deadly turn after a confrontation between the Swan gang and owners of the Waverly Ranch last week.”
Phin frowned and sped through the rest of the article. The clipping showed that it was from a New York newspaper, though there was no telling when it had been published or how it came into Lenore’s possession. She might very well have read it while waiting for a ship to take her across the Atlantic. However Lenore obtained it, even though Bart’s name was not specifically mentioned, it seemed to corroborate her story.
“She still should have said something,” Phin growled, setting down the clipping and taking a sip of his tea.
“Be patient,” Hazel repeated, as if scolding him. “If you truly love her—and I’ve known you long enough to see you do—things will work themselves out.”
Phin stared at her over the lip of his teacup but didn’t say anything. Things had better work themselves out, because he had more at stake where Lenore was concerned than he’d ever had in his life.
Chapter 13
Lenore didn’t sleep a wink. Instead, she tossed and turned through what felt like an interminable night. One minute, she was wracked with guilt about hiding the truth from Phin—not to mention Freddy and Reese and her family on top of that—for so long. Fear had made her cowardly, and time and an ocean between her and Bart had tricked her into thinking that horrifying chapter of her life was behind her. On the other hand, Phin was a hypocrite for being so angry with her for concealing the truth when he had secrets of his own. Lady Hamilton or not, the consequences of him coming clean about everything he was trying to hide would only be embarrassment and social disgrace, not death.
Every time she’d determined to stay angry with him for being a boor, however, she’d flipped over in bed and had a change of thought. Phin was only human, just as she was. They’d each made mistakes. Everyone made mistakes. And the way he’d kissed her in the kitchen with so much emotion had left her head spinning. Even if the emotion behind his kiss had been anger. There was a very fine line between anger and passion to begin with, and Lenore was certain that line was now hopelessly blurred where she and Phin were concerned.
Her sleepless night meant that she felt wretched the next morning. She didn’t bother lolling around in bed once the sun rose. Instead, she got up, washed and dressed, made her bed, and wandered downstairs to the kitchen, hoping the tea Hazel had made the night before had steeped through the night and was as strong as an ox now.
She wasn’t at all surprised to find Phin already seated at the kitchen table as she dragged herself in. Nor was she surprised that he was blatantly reading through everything in her document box. It was such an obvious move that it didn’t even warrant a comment.
Phin glanced up at her as she slogged her way over to the table and tested whether the contents of the teapot were warm by resting a hand on the pot’s side. Her eyebrows lifted a fraction as she discovered it was warm after all. With only a brief flash of a look at Phin—who continued to stare at her as though he expected her to say something—she plunked herself into a chair and poured tea into one of the mismatched collection of teacups on the table.
She didn’t say a word as she sipped her blessedly strong tea. Not when Phin continued to stare at her and not when he went back to reading her most personal documents without a shred of remorse. She stayed silent as a breeze blew through the trees outside the open kitchen window, as chickens clucked on the other side of the yard, and as a cow of some sort mooed in the distance. She did nothing more than drink her tea when Hazel came in from outside with a rasher of bacon she must have fetched from some cold cellar. And she only finished her tea in silence when Gladys and Amaryllis shuffled into the kitchen, scrubbed and dressed for the new day, but looking as miserable as she felt.
The two girls made their way over to Lenore with drawn, penitent faces.
“We wanted to say that we are very sorry indeed for snooping through your things,” Gladys said in a voice that made her seem far younger than her eleven years.
“It was very wrong of us,” Amaryllis added. “Looking through other people’s things, especially a guest princess’s, is very bad.”
They were so sweet that Lenore couldn’t help but smile, though she doubted her smile did much to improve her haggard appearance. “Take it from me, ladies,” she said on a sigh. “No good ever comes from putting your nose in where it shouldn’t be.”
Phin glanced up from reading her passport, then deliberately returned it to the box. A faint flush painted his cheeks as he reached for the teapot to refill his cup.
“I want to tell you something,” Lenore went on, reaching for Amaryllis and drawing the young girl closer. “I mean it when I say that looking through other people’s things will only ever get you in trouble. Believe
me, I know. That is precisely why I find myself in the mess I’m in now. If I hadn’t looked through someone else’s things during a conference in Laramie, I wouldn’t be here now.”
“But we like having you here now,” Amaryllis said, blissful innocence in her large, blue eyes.
“Yes,” Gladys rushed to add. “We’re so happy to have met you. We wouldn’t have met you at all if you hadn’t come to England. And we wouldn’t know anything about baseball.”
Lenore’s brow shot up. Leave it to the youngest amongst them to point out the obvious. She glanced across the table to Phin—who was pretending not to pay attention. If she hadn’t nearly gotten herself killed by meddling in Bart’s affairs, she never would have begged her father to bring her to England. And if she’d never come to England, she never would have met Freddy or Reese or any of her other friends. Or Phin. And she wasn’t sure she could bear the thought of never meeting Phin.
“Go and collect the eggs, you two,” Hazel told the girls. “I’ll cook you all a fine breakfast, if you’ll just be patient.” She shot a pointed look to Phin as she spoke.
Lenore glanced between the brother and sister. Phin looked back at Hazel as if he’d been well and truly scolded and resented it. They’d clearly had some sort of conversation after Lenore had gone to bed the night before. Lenore just hoped it had been a productive one. At least Phin wasn’t arguing with her that morning.
“Phin, go see if Father is awake,” Hazel ordered.
Without a word, Phin got up and left the room.
Lenore continued to sit there in silence, sipping her tea and pouring herself a second cup, all while trying to work things out enough in her exhausted mind to know what to say to Phin. She was truly sorry that she hadn’t explained the truth to him earlier. She genuinely loved him. That thought hadn’t left her mind through the endless night, even though she tried to deny it. To no avail. Phin was everything she’d ever wanted in a man, something that was even more obvious when he carried his frail father into the kitchen and fussed silently over the man, making him as comfortable as he could. It was a damnable shame that she couldn’t have him. Not unless she faced Bart and attempted to work out some sort of a deal with him. She was entitled to an annulment, but the pulsing dread in her gut told her that would be about as unlikely as convincing Bart to take holy orders.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, once Mr. Mercer was settled and Phin had fixed a cup of tea that he was slowly feeding to him, as Hazel had bacon sizzling in a pan on the stove and the chickens outside clucked up a storm while the girls gathered eggs, Lenore found the courage to say, “I’m truly sorry for everything, Phin.”
“I know,” Phin replied, perhaps a little too fast. His jaw was as tight as a coiled spring, and he wouldn’t look at her, though Lenore had the distinct feeling that he wanted to look at her. He lowered the funnel he used for his father’s tea and sat lamely in his chair, as if he didn’t know what to do next.
“Believe me, it was never my intention for things to get so out of hand,” she went on. “If I had known I would fall so madly in love, I would have been open about everything from day one.”
His gaze snapped to her, and for a beautiful heartbeat, she swore she could see hope in his eyes. As soon as she saw it, though, Phin’s expression shuttered. “I do believe that you were frightened,” he said, glancing to his father as if the man would suddenly spout forth advice and make the entire thing better.
It wasn’t much of a concession, but it was enough to have Lenore breathing a sigh of relief. Of course, feeling relieved also sapped the last of her energy. She gulped another mouthful of tea, praying it was enough to give her strength for whatever came next. At least she had the peace and distance of Yorkshire and Hazel’s excellent cooking to give her time to form a plan.
That small hope was dashed minutes later when the girls came running back into the kitchen with a basket of eggs and an unfamiliar young man following them.
“Good morning, Mark,” Hazel addressed the young man, looking surprised to see him, and a bit flustered, if Lenore interpreted things right.
“Morning, Hazel.” The young man smiled and touched the brim of his hat to her. He nodded to Mr. Mercer and Phin as well. “Is there a Miss Lenore Garrett staying here?”
“That’s me,” Lenore said, twisting to face the young man, dread pooling in her stomach, making her question the wisdom of drinking so much tea so quickly.
Mark pulled is smile away from Hazel and stepped closer to Lenore. He reached into his pocket as he did and took out a folded piece of paper. “Telegram arrived for you late last night, miss,” he said. “Sorry I wasn’t able to get it to you sooner.”
“Thank you,” Lenore said in a wary voice, taking the paper from him.
“What do we owe you?” Phin asked, getting up and reaching into his pocket for the money to pay the young man.
Lenore barely listened to the exchange as she opened the telegram. “Sorry, but you need to come back,” it read. “Swan claiming all over London you’re his wife. Social chaos. Only you can quell rumors.” It was signed, “Freddy.”
Lenore let out a heavy breath and tossed the telegram onto the table. She glanced to Mr. Mercer, wishing he could give her some sort of fatherly advice, then leaned her elbows gracelessly on the table and planted her face in her hands. She should have known that running away to Yorkshire wouldn’t do a lick of good. She should have known that a continent and an ocean weren’t enough distance to put between her and Bart, that he would find her in the end. She could only imagine what he wanted from her now. Probably to finish what he’d started.
She heard Phin return to the table and pick up the telegram, even though she didn’t lift her face from her hands. She was too tired to do more than listen as he sucked in a breath, then dropped the telegram on the table again.
“I suppose we’d better pack our things, then,” he said in an unreadable voice.
“You’re leaving so soon?” Amaryllis asked, crossing to Lenore’s side from the counter, where she and Gladys were unloading the morning’s eggs.
Lenore lifted her head from her hands, but it was Phin who answered with, “We’ve been called back to London. Mr. Swan is making a nuisance of himself.”
Hazel nodded in understanding, but Gladys and Amaryllis both looked stricken.
“You can’t go,” Gladys said. “We’re only just getting to know you.”
“I’m afraid I must,” Lenore sighed and stood. “I’ve made a mess, and it’s about time I stop running from it and face it.” Her words were meant more for Phin than the girls.
“But—”
Lenore stopped Amaryllis’s protest with a kiss to her forehead. “I promise you,” she said, straightening, “when and if I’m able to sort this mess out, I’ll come back and spend more time with you.”
“Can Lionel come next time too?” Amaryllis asked. “I miss him so.”
“Perhaps,” Phin said, moving so that he could ruffle Amaryllis’s hair. “But right now, haste is of the essence.” He directed that last thought to Lenore.
Lenore didn’t need to be told twice. She nodded, then promptly left the kitchen and headed up to Gladys’s room to pack her things.
She wished she could make the task of packing her things last for hours. She wished she could stay in Yorkshire instead of facing what she knew she had to face. But with only one small traveling bag and a limited amount of clothing to pack, she was finished with the task in less than twenty minutes. Even then, she loitered in Gladys’s room, looking at her dolls and reading the titles of the books she had stacked on a small shelf beside one window. She couldn’t delay her departure forever, though, and all too soon, she carried her bag downstairs.
She paused at the bottom of the stairs when she heard Phin’s voice coming from the parlor.
“…not entirely certain what to do, Father,” he said. “It’s not the sort of situation one finds oneself in every day. The trouble is, I’m in love.”
Lenore’s heart leapt in her chest, even as a sheepish sort of heat filled her face. She tiptoed down the last few stairs and over to the parlor doorway, making certain she remained hidden from Phin’s view. He must have transferred his father back to the parlor after breakfast. She caught sight of him sitting on a chair he’d pulled up close to the one where his father sat, tucked in blankets and staring into nothing near the fireplace.
“I’m sure you would tell me to stop being such a prat and to help her,” Phin went on with a weak smile, holding his father’s limp hand. “She’s a woman in need, and when it comes to the fairer sex, it doesn’t matter what sins they’re guilty of, we love them all the same. I just wish she would have told me sooner.”
A guilty lump formed in Lenore’s throat. She wished she’d told him sooner too.
His father made the slightest grunting sound.
“I know,” Phin said, as though he’d interpreted an entire speech from the small sound. “Love gets all of us in trouble eventually. I never thought I’d actually fall for it,” he added with a smirk. “I know that I have never been able to keep my wicked ways from you entirely. How you managed to raise five such irascible children is beyond me.”
His father made another grunting sound.
“Oh, so you’re taking credit for all of our wickedness then?” Phin’s face brightened slightly, and he closed his other hand around his first as it held his father’s hand. “Just one hedonist raising a gaggle of others? Well, if you insist, Father.” He laughed gently, then sighed. “I just wish I didn’t feel so hurt. It seems ungentlemanly, somehow, to feel as though I’ve been betrayed when Lenore is in danger. But I have feelings too, pitiful as I feel for admitting it. We all do, when it comes down to it. And perhaps what I’m feeling most is disappointment that the lovely future I painted for myself won’t be able to happen the way I envisioned it.”
