by Merry Farmer
“That’s not what I meant,” Lady Hamilton said, flustered, likely because Lenore didn’t collapse into tears in front of her.
“Yes,” Lenore sighed, pressing the fingertips of her free hand to her temple, as though she had a headache. “I am legally married to a Mr. Bartholomew Swan. But the circumstances of that marriage are not at all what I’m sure everyone thinks they are.” She pivoted slightly and met the eyes of some of the eavesdroppers around them, showing that she knew everyone was listening.
Those who had an ounce of shame in them turned away and pretended they weren’t being nosy. That was only a small fraction of the people surrounding them, though.
“I wasn’t referring to your rather shocking marriage, Miss—er—Mrs. Swan,” Lady Hamilton said, losing even more of her bombastic certainty. “I wasn’t specifically talking to you.” She glanced to Phin. “I was referring to a certain wicked and shameful publication.”
Phin held his breath. His game was over. Lady Hamilton knew.
Except, rather than rake him over the coals, she turned her frown to Lenore again. “That is to say, I know it was one of the two of you.” Her eyes narrowed further, as though she were trying to work out which one. “Det. Gleason has been most effective in his investigations.”
Phin clenched his jaw and studied Gleason. The detective’s face had gone completely blank as Lady Hamilton made a show of trying to work things out, but he did shift his glance to meet Phin’s eyes. In a flash, Phin was certain the man knew. He’d likely uncovered everything. But it was also obvious that he hadn’t revealed what he knew to Lady Hamilton. Phin’s mouth twitched into a brief grin. Like everything else about the evening, that much had Lionel written all over it.
“I’m sure Det. Gleason is more than competent,” Phin said with as much respect as he could muster, “but in this case, he might just be mistaken.” He nodded to Gleason, smiled at Lady Hamilton, then turned to Lenore. “Would you care to dance?”
“I would love to,” Lenore said with as much relief in her voice as if he’d offered to whisk her away to the island of Tahiti as a respite from all her troubles.
“I’m not finished speaking with you,” Lady Hamilton protested as Phin led Lenore away to the dance floor, which was filling up with couples as the excitement of Lenore’s arrival died down.
Phin caught a glimpse of Gleason saying something to Lady Hamilton, which might have been the reason she didn’t pursue them across the room. He swept Lenore into his arms for the waltz, then danced them even farther away, to the opposite side of the room.
“As if we need any other reason to worry about our reputations,” Lenore said, laughing, but without any humor.
“Miss Garret, I’m surprised,” Phin said, smiling. “I didn’t think you cared at all for your reputation.”
She barked another laugh that drew attention from a few of the couples dancing near them on the crowded floor. “There’s no point in caring for something that’s already gone,” she said.
“It’s not as bad as all that,” Phin said, pulling her closer.
“Oh, but it is.” She glanced up at him with guilty eyes, then sighed and lowered her head. “Phin, you should know that I packed all my things today. I’m going to go with Bart.”
“What?” Phin’s whole body tensed. His grip on Lenore changed to that of a man desperately clinging to something he didn’t want to lose. “Lenore, you cannot. The man is vicious. He’ll kill you, or worse.”
She looked up at him again, her mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “I know,” she said, all energy draining from her. “But I would rather he do his worst with me instead of going back to Haskell and wreaking vengeance on my family. You know he would,” she argued as Phin opened his mouth to fight. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else for the last few days. I cannot put my loved ones back home in danger any more than you could put Hazel and the girls at risk.”
“He can be stopped,” Phin said, every muscle in his body rigid with frustration.
“Yes, he can be stopped if I go with him,” she said. Her expression changed, a hint of her backbone returning. “You don’t think I’m simply going to roll over and do whatever he tells me to do, like a meek little wife, do you?”
That question left Phin even more at a loss for words. He shook himself and said, “I won’t have you putting yourself in any sort of danger.”
She snapped straighter. “So you think you have a right to tell me what I can and cannot do now? How very disappointing.”
“It’s not that, Lenore.” He let out a breath, his shoulders sagging as he did. “But have a little sense, will you? It’s all well and good to have enough confidence in oneself to stand up to a murderer, but really, it’s foolish. Particularly when there are likely a dozen other ways to resolve the situation.”
“I’m all ears if you want to share any of those ways,” she said in a wry voice. “Oh, but before you start listing them, you should know that Freddy and Reese have already contacted Scotland Yard.”
“They have?”
“Yes, and the authorities see this as a domestic dispute between foreigners,” she went on. “And since they don’t have any solid proof that Bart has or ever intended to murder anyone, as far as they’re concerned, he’s just a husband who has caught up with his runaway wife. I will leave you to draw conclusions about the rest of what they said.”
Phin clenched his jaw, aching with frustration. After all the strides women had made in the last few years, after all of the ways they’d proven to the world that they were competent and capable, the law still sided with husbands, even when the woman was in danger.
“I won’t let it rest there,” he said. “You’re not leaving with Swan, even if you think you can best him somehow.”
“I escaped from him once,” Lenore said. “I’m certain I can do it again, and find a way to keep those I love safe in the process.”
Phin didn’t have a chance to argue with her. Once again, the room filled with the buzz of gossip and whispers of excitement as everyone turned to the doorway. He and Lenore gave up dancing and looked to see who had arrived. Judging by the zip in the room, it was probably royalty.
But no, the figure who appeared in the ballroom doorway, thumbs hooked through his belt, broad smile under his bushy moustache, was Bart Swan himself.
Chapter 18
From the moment she’d entered the room, Lenore knew the situation was as bad as she’d imagined it could be. She’d always known that London society considered her a bit of an anomaly. Even with dozens of American heiresses crossing the Atlantic to stake their claim on the lords of England, she stuck out. She was a curiosity, but never more so than she had been in the last few days.
She was teetering on the verge of thinking maybe that wasn’t so bad after all, that perhaps being seen as strange to begin with would help excuse things if she was seen to throw Freddy over for Phin. That was, if Phin still wanted her. The way he’d met her when she entered the ballroom raised her hopes in that regard.
And Bart swaggering into the startled room of British aristocracy, sniffing at the decorations, sneering at lords with titles he didn’t understand, and generally marking himself as a man who didn’t care what everyone around him thought, dashed those hopes entirely.
“This is not going to end well,” she sighed, stepping away from Phin, even as most of the couples around them resumed their waltz. She started dodging her way through those couples, determined to take the bull by the horns and wrestle him as far away from the people she’d grown to care about as possible.
“Where are you going?” Phin hissed, leaping after her.
Lenore paused to turn toward him, even though Bart had spotted her and broken into a vicious smile. “I need to face what I’ve been avoiding,” she said, pressing a hand to her stomach. She sounded far braver than she felt. Inside, she was trembling. Just because she’d come to the realization that she needed to clean up her own mess so that the people she loved remaine
d unharmed didn’t mean that, deep down, she wasn’t still scared out of her wits. And if there was any possibility at all of her discovering why Bart really wanted her back, she had to grab it.
“You’re not facing it alone,” Phin said, marching on with her.
For a moment, Lenore was certain she was forgiven. Phin wouldn’t be putting himself in so much danger if he didn’t care about her the way she cared about him. But as they drew closer to Bart, she began to wonder if he was simply dragging her on to what she deserved.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Bart growled, raking her with a hungry look. “I’m glad I decided to come to this shindig after all.”
“Bart.” Lenore greeted him with an impatient nod. “We need to go somewhere quiet so we can talk.”
“I can see you’ve come around, then,” Bart said, looking far too pleased with himself. “I knew you’d see fit to fulfill your duties.”
Lenore sighed impatiently. She hadn’t truly begun to pry him for information that might lead to the truth and already Bart had her feeling out of her depth. “My feelings on the matter haven’t changed at all,” she said. “I still think we can negotiate our way out of this.” Especially if she figured out what he truly wanted.
“What are you doing here, sir?” Reese demanded as he and Freddy joined the confrontation.
More party guests stopped what they were doing to listen in. Lenore’s face burned hot with embarrassment as she peeked at dozens of rapt and nosey faces. “Please,” she whispered. “Could we do this somewhere else?”
“I don’t see that there’s anything to do,” Bart said, speaking too loud and seeming to enjoy the extra attention. “Unless my pretty little wife here wants to dance with me.”
“I’m surprised a man like you can dance at all,” Freddy said, his jaw clenched.
“Watch me.” Bart grabbed Lenore’s wrist and tugged her toward the dance floor. Several of the observers gasped and blanched at his actions.
“Unhand her,” Phin demanded, leaping after them.
“Phin, it’s all right,” Lenore said, barely above a whisper. Dancing with Bart might open up the right opportunity to figure out the truth. She attempted to tell Phin as much in the way she met his eyes and bored into him, begging him to let her handle things.
Phin let out a restless huff and rocked back, shoving a hand through his hair and knocking his glasses askew. “I’ll be right here if you need me,” he said in a tight voice.
Lenore nodded, but Bart jerked her on to the dance floor before she could say anything. Her wrist hurt from his iron-hard grip, and even more of the guests stared at them as Bart manhandled her into dance position and began a clumsy waltz. Lenore almost laughed at the irony of the way everyone’s expressions changed as they watched Bart fling her around the dance floor. All it had taken to shift public opinion of her from wicked harlot to unfortunate maiden was for her lout of a husband to show up and offend everyone.
“Look, Bart, there has to be a way we can resolve this without anyone being hurt,” Lenore opened her desperate attempt to save herself, and her family back home, as quickly as she could. “Tell me what you really want.”
“I’ve already told you,” Bart replied, as unmovable as a mountain, but bristling with anxiety as well.
“I think there’s more you’re not telling me,” Lenore pushed on. “Why not come after me immediately? Why wait a year? Has something changed at home?”
“My need for a woman,” Bart snapped, giving Lenore the sense she was skating closer to the truth.
“What good does it do you to have a wife who doesn’t want to be married to you?” Lenore tried to make her case all the same.
Bart huffed an impatient breath as he jerked her through a half turn in order to avoid another dancing couple, though most of the other dancers were more focused on the drama unfolding in front of them than they were on the steps of the waltz. “I want the same thing I’ve wanted from the get-go—a rich wife with connections, or a corpse who will keep her yap shut.”
Lenore’s heart sank. He wasn’t going to slip up the way she needed him to. “I swear, I won’t tell a soul what I saw.” She’d promised the same thing a dozen times already to no avail, but there didn’t seem to be anything left she could do but make the offer again. “You can go back to Wyoming and continue on with whatever—”
“I’m not going back there,” Bart snapped so fast it blew Lenore’s thoughts right out of her mind. That was it. She’d hit on the deeper truth at last. There was a reason he couldn’t go home, a reason that meant he needed her, or possibly her money. Her heart sped up and her mind raced.
“Where do you plan to go if not home?” she asked.
“Maybe South America,” he started before clamping his mouth shut and glaring at her, as if she’d forced him into admitting something he shouldn’t have. “Never you mind about that,” he growled, the intensity of his viciousness increasing.
“Please, just let me go,” she breathed, trying desperately to hold herself together. “Perhaps I could arrange to pay you something for your trouble.”
Bart grinned at her, not a single ounce of compassion in his eyes. “You’re pretty when you’re desperate. I wonder what I can do to make you even prettier.”
Lenore swallowed. That was it, then. She wasn’t dealing with a rational man, she was dealing with someone who thrived on others’ pain. That didn’t bode well at all for what he’d do to her if he got his way.
She simply had to discover what had happened back home that motivated him now, even if it meant she had to do something insane to figure it out. The steps of their waltz turned her so that she faced Phin across the room. Phin looked ready to murder Bart with his bare hands. He also looked like a distinguished gentleman with a fine education in a fashionable suit. She loved him more than she thought it would ever be possible for her to love a man, but compared to Bart’s muscular toughness, there was no question who would win in a fight.
Which was why it would take something other than brawn to save her from the bed she’d made for herself.
“I’m ready to go with you,” she sighed, feigning defeat—although she didn’t feel particularly confident with the plan she’d come up with to discover the truth and save herself, her family, and her friends. “I’ve packed my things, and I’ll go back to Wyoming or to South America with you, if that’s what you want.”
A toothy smile split Bart’s face. A moment later, it shifted to an odd, hunted look. That look quickly changed to something Lenore could only describe as worry before flashing back to a grin of victory. The storm of emotions was the last response she expected from Bart, and it left her feeling even more off-balance than ever.
“I’m glad you see things that way, pumpkin,” he said, spinning her through a dizzying turn.
“We can leave tomorrow morning,” Lenore went on. “My things are already packed and—”
“We’re leaving now,” Bart told her. He shifted the way he held her to grab her wrist again and headed across the dance floor, shoving couples aside, so fast that Lenore had to scramble not to fall flat on her face.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Phin demanded, trying to step into Bart’s path as the guests parted to let them walk on toward the doorway.
“I’m taking my wife home,” Bart growled.
“You will do no such thing.” Freddy joined Phin in blocking their path.
“You’ll get out of my way if you know what’s good for you, Nancy,” Bart told Freddy with a threatening glare.
“You’ll have to get through me as well.” Reese joined the barricade attempting to save Lenore.
“Will you all please step back,” Lenore said, at her wits’ end. “I…I have the situation under control.” She glanced to Phin, hoping he, at least, would be clever enough and trust her enough to know that she wouldn’t simply let Bart whisk her away, like a lamb to the slaughter—which was far closer to the truth of things than she wanted to think about—withou
t a plan. Now, if she could just think of a way to put all the pieces together and then escape with her life intact.
None of the men moved. None of the dozens of spectators moved or breathed either. Heaven only knew what they thought they were about to witness. Lenore wondered if they would intervene if Bart drew a gun and threatened her or if they would consider the whole thing to be a dramatic performance.
That thought was exactly what she needed to turn her fear into anger and to light a fire under her. “Oh, will you all please move already,” she shouted, frustrated. “I just want this whole thing to be over.”
She stomped forward, pushing Phin aside, but staring hard into his eyes to let him know just how afraid she really was, in spite of her show. It was enough for her and Bart to break through Freddy and Reese’s barricade. Once they had passed the two of them, no one even tried to stop them as they left the ballroom and rushed down the hall.
“I knew you’d see sense eventually,” Bart told her in a gruff and smarmy voice as they gathered their coats and made their way out to the line of waiting carriages. “You’re feisty, but you’re smart. That’s what makes you so dangerous.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Bart, I’d rather not talk about me,” Lenore snapped once she’d climbed into the cab Bart had signaled to. “I want to know what’s happening back in Wyoming.”
Bart’s face went stony as he into the carriage beside her. “We don’t need to talk about anything, not with what I have in mind for the evening.”
A chill shot down Lenore’s spine. Perhaps leaving with Bart wasn’t the best idea after all. She did her best to appear put out and done with the whole situation as the carriage pulled away from Lady O’Shea’s house and made its way to wherever Bart was staying. She knew time was of the essence, that she would have only minutes to get Bart to confess and then make some sort of move to save herself once they reached their destination. There was an equal chance that Bart would kill her as there was that he would force her into bed once they got to where he was staying. But she’d run out on him and successfully hidden for over a year before, and she was certain she could do it again, if she played her cards right.
