Danforth’s eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” Lord Merion said.
Danforth leapt up, fists balled, radiating fury. Marshall braced himself for every manner of insult and accusation, but they didn’t come. Instead, Danforth marched toward the door, threw it open, and stomped into the hall, slamming the door behind him. He left complete silence in his wake.
“Well,” Judge Small said at last with a relieved sigh. “I believe that settles that.”
Marshall gaped at him. “Does it?”
Judge Small smiled. “Yes. Barring a bit of paperwork, and assuming, as I am, that Danforth marched out of here in a huff without taking your girls with him—I believe we would have heard their screaming if he had—your daughters are yours to take home.”
For a moment, Marshall couldn’t breathe. His heart all but stopped in his chest before swelling to the size of a pumpkin. “Just like that?” he asked. “We can go home.”
“Barring paperwork,” Judge Small repeated.
“We’ll take care of that for you,” Lord Merion said, reaching to shake Marshall’s hand and to drag him out of his chair. “I’m sure Mr. Throckmorton’s man of business—St. George, is it?”
“St. Germaine,” Marshall corrected him breathlessly.
“I’m sure he can handle the particulars,” Lord Merion went on. “If I were you, I’d bundle those girls onto the next train heading north.”
“I certainly will,” Marshall said, energy returning a hundredfold. “And thank you so much, my lord. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“It was nothing,” Lord Merion said with a grin. “Although you might tell your friend, Mr. Throckmorton’s Flossie, that I’ll be expecting tea and recommendations next time I travel to Brynthwaite.” He winked for good measure.
Marshall had no idea what the man was talking about. He half suspected that the meaning was something untoward, something Jason would be furious about. But at the moment, he didn’t care. He shook Lord Merion’s hand a second time, reached over to shake Judge Small’s hand, then dashed out into the hall.
Sure enough, the only people still there were Jason, the girls—who sat clustered around him on the bench as though they were all holding each other up—and St. Germaine.
“Well?” Jason asked, looking as baffled as Marshall felt. “Danforth tore out of here in a fury. He said nothing before marching off with Eileen, that woman, his solicitor, and not the girls.”
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Marshall burst into a genuine smile. “He gave up. We’ve won. Judge Small says the girls are mine, unequivocally. We can all go home.”
Jason
Few sounds had ever given Jason as much joy as Marshall’s girls erupting into screams of joy at the news that they could finally go home. They jumped away from him and flew to Marshall, slamming into him so hard that all four of them staggered back. The sight of them—the most beloved people in his life, aside from Flossie—so happy and triumphant was almost enough to calm the raging storm that had plagued him from the moment the train had rolled out of the Brynthwaite station.
Jason stood, fighting like mad to appear just as happy as the rest of them, and stepped away from the bench. “This is brilliant,” he said. “This is absolutely wonderful. Flossie will be overjoyed.”
He wasn’t sure Marshall heard him in the midst of his own celebration, or that his friend saw Lord Merion when he exited the judge’s office. Lord Merion smiled with immense satisfaction and started to walk away, but Jason stopped him.
“Do we have you to thank for this, my lord?” he asked, shaking the man’s hand preemptively.
“Hardly,” Lord Merion said, though the self-satisfaction in his grin told another story. “Danforth might be powerful, but he’s an ass. As soon as I discovered his interest for the girls was as bargaining chips on the marriage mart to advance his own interests, I knew I needed to act.”
Surprise and rage sprang up in Jason, lifting his eyebrows. “They’re only children.”
“Which is exactly what I said,” Lord Merion agreed with a nod. “But Danforth knows which way the wind is blowing now,” he added. “Congratulations to you all.”
Lord Merion saluted Jason, then strode off as though it were a sunny, May day instead of the middle of a dreary winter. Jason could feel a bit of that sun himself when he looked at Marshall and the girls. But all too soon, reality seemed to set in around them.
“We should get you all out of here and on a train home as soon as possible,” Jason said, moving as if to shepherd the Pycroft clan down the hall.
“Yes, Papa,” Mary said, her voice hoarse with relief. “I want to go home right now.”
“Me too, me too,” both Molly and Martha said, jumping up and down in their eagerness.
“Then go home we shall,” Marshall said. He glanced to Jason. “A quick stop at the hotel to gather my things is in order, then you can take us straight to Euston.”
“What about the girls’ things?” Jason asked as they walked swiftly down the hall.
“I don’t want any of those things,” Mary said, tilting her nose up. “What I have at home is good enough for me.”
“I want that pretty lavender dress, though,” Molly said in a guilty whisper. “It’s nice.”
Marshall exchanged a look with Jason. “I’ll telegraph Danforth as soon as we’re home, asking him to send along the girls’ things.”
Jason nodded and led the way as they rounded a corner and headed down a flight of stairs to the building’s entrance. The chatter in the hired cab on the way home was enough to both lift and depress his already agitated spirits. The girls were infinitely happy to be back with Marshall, but their stories of cold treatment and overly harsh discipline at the hands of their Danforth relatives left Jason bristling with anger. He would never treat Marshall’s girls—or his own children—as little more than ornaments.
Thoughts of his own children brought thoughts of Flossie and the baby she carried, and those thoughts raised the specter of fear and dread within him. He would be a terrible father. He couldn’t even manage his own madness. And the madness was certainly there, creeping up on him when he least expected it. His heart pounded, his palms and back were sweaty, and he couldn’t keep still, even though, in the confines of the carriage, his restless fidgeting made the journey uncomfortable for everyone. He couldn’t shake the feeling that disaster would befall when his child was born, and at any minute Flossie would see that he was as worthless as a worm and leave him. He’d descend into the same sordid pit of lust that he’d barely been able to claw his way out of before.
“Jason. Jason,” Marshall nearly shouted his name.
Jason sucked in a hard breath and attempted to focus on his friend.
“Are you well, man?” Marshall asked.
“Yes. Fine. I’m fine,” Jason lied.
“Only, we’re here, at the hotel,” Mary said in a soft, kind voice, resting a hand on his knee.
Jason flinched away from her, then immediately felt horrible down to his core. “Yes, of course,” he said, rushing to exit the carriage, even though he should have let Marshall and the girls get out first. “Let’s get your things and get you to the station. Driver, wait here.”
Marshall and the girls were somewhat more subdued as they left the carriage and marched into the hotel, although the girls were delighted at the chance to ride the elevator up to Marshall’s room. Jason waited in the lobby, pacing its huge, marble floor to see if movement would alleviate some of his anxiety. His skin prickled and his pulse refused to slow. Worst of all, while he was used to the embarrassing discomfort of an erection brought on by stress and temptation, his new brand of madness left him limp and terrified.
“Jason, there you are.” Lady E’s approach made Jason flinch. “How did the hearing go?” she asked, with a banal smile that made it difficult to tell whether she was truly interested or merely being polite.
“They won,” Jason said,
far too breathless for his liking. “Marshall got the girls back. They’re just upstairs gathering Marshall’s things, then I’ll take them to the train station.”
“Splendid,” Lady E said, her smile turning genuine. It then shifted to something far more calculating. “That means you’ll have much more time to accompany me on social calls.”
Jason’s already racing pulse shot higher, making him dizzy. “I really don’t think I can,” he said in a tense whisper.
“Nonsense,” Lady E frowned. “Of course you can. You don’t have anything else to occupy your time.”
“I have my hotels,” he said, fishing for anything that would make her leave him alone.
She dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand. “Your hotels practically run themselves. It’s high time you learned that, as a member of high society, your responsibility is to see and be seen. You aren’t going to charm your way into a title if you don’t make nice with the other peers.”
“I thought I was going to buy my way into a title,” Jason said sourly, striding to the long front desk at the far end of the hall, mostly because he needed something to lean on.
“Money can only take you so far,” Lady E insisted. “I thought the whole point of our marriage was so that I could tutor you in the fine art of leading a socially profitable life.”
“Is that why we’re doing this?” Jason asked, distracted. Something about the scent of Lady E’s perfume was overwhelming to him. It turned his stomach and conjured unwanted memories of ladies he’d been tangled up with—literally—in the past. But his body still didn’t react the way he expected it to. Something was utterly, utterly wrong with him.
“Stop looking as though you’ve eaten bad prawns, Jason,” Lady E continued to scold him. “If you would just buck up and face your betters with boldness, they wouldn’t be your betters anymore.”
Jason gaped at her. “Is that what you think?” he asked.
“That you’re simply intimidated by grandeur?” Lady E laughed. “Isn’t it the truth?”
“No,” he said. The truth was that he was losing his mind without Flossie. The truth was that the growing sense that he was emasculated, that he wasn’t human at all, was far worse than sporting a constant cockstand. The truth was that London was killing him, heart and soul.
But Lady E merely smirked at him and slapped his arm playfully. “Oh, Jason. You are funny when you’re contrary. But now that the hearing is over and your friend has been reunited with his daughters, it’s time to get down to serious business. We need to conquer the London social world.”
“But I—”
“Now run along and take your friends to the train station,” she rode right over him. “When you get back, I’ll have your theater suit waiting for you. We have an invitation from Lady Denbigh to attend an all-night salon after the performance, and you know Lady Denbigh cannot be denied.” She wiggled her eyebrows, a saucy twinkle in her eyes.
In fact, Jason knew better than Lady E how Lady Denbigh wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d spent far more nights than he cared to remember between her legs, pushed to do things he normally cringed at so that the woman could have her required number of orgasms. He wasn’t sure he could look the matron in the eyes now.
Jason was saved from having to reply—or from vomiting into a nearby rubbish can—as the elevator bell sounded and the porter slid the door aside to reveal an ecstatic Marshall and his three, beaming girls.
“We’re going home. We’re going home. We’re going home,” Molly and Martha chanted, dancing their way to the front door.
Jason broke away from Lady E without a second look, striding to meet them.
“I can’t wait to see Dr. Dyson,” Mary told him as they stepped out into the dreary January day. “She’s our mother now, in a way. And Papa says she needs a lot of help around the house. I can’t wait to show her everything.”
“I’m sure she’ll adore having you around,” Jason said with a smile, helping her and the other girls into the carriage as Marshall handed his suitcase to the driver. Although truthfully, he wasn’t certain. Things between Marshall and Alex had been tense at best before they’d left. Even if they did patch everything up, conducting a marriage in a small house packed tight with children had to be a challenge. And that wasn’t even considering the conniving Winnie.
The Pycroft girls chattered like magpies the whole way to Euston Station, taking the pressure off of Jason. The gnarled ball of anxiety that never seemed to leave him hushed in the face of the girls’ joy. It was still there, though, and as soon as the Pycroft gang was on the train and the train had pulled out of the station, it slammed back into him full force.
He was alone in London. His friend and ally had left him—as well he should now that he had the girls back. There was no one left for Jason to turn to, no one to steady him when the horror overwhelmed him.
He stood stock still, staring at the empty train tracks for far longer than any sane man should. A deep tremor rose up from his gut, making it seem like the world was spinning around him. Or perhaps the spinning was because he’d forgotten to breathe.
A hand closing around his arm jerked him back into half-focus. A woman who might have been attractive if she wasn’t obviously a whore who’d seen better days had latched hold of him.
“All right, guvnor?” she asked, flashing him a smile with missing teeth. “Need company?”
“No,” Jason said, trying to pull away.
The woman kept at him, though, stroking a hand down the front of his coat. “I can do fings, y’know.”
“I said no.” Jason pushed her hard, then marched away when she let go.
It wasn’t until he was outside the station, panting as though he’d run a marathon, that he realized his wallet was missing. The theft barely made a dent on his fractured mind, though. He’d sent the hired carriage on its way when they reached the station, anticipating that he would want to walk back to his hotel, which spared him having to explain to the driver why he had no money. A freezing drizzle was falling through London, but he didn’t bother to turn his collar up. He needed to feel the ice, needed to feel something to stop the wretched sickness in his soul.
“Oy, watch where you’re going!” the driver of a cart hollered at him as he crossed a street.
Jason flinched, hardly aware that he’d reached the intersection or that he’d marched out into traffic. It would have been a blessing if he’d been hit and killed. At least then it would all end.
But no, if he died he would never see Flossie again. He’d surely end up in Hell, and Flossie was bound for Heaven. He’d never see their child either, or any other children they might have. And the tiny, stubborn part of him that wanted to know his children and be their father refused to give in.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking or where his path had taken him by the time he arrived back at the hotel. He was barely aware that he was soaked to the bone and so chilled that he shook.
“Land sakes, Jason,” Lady E met him in the lobby as though she’d been waiting for him. “Where have you been? It’s been three hours already.”
“Three hours?” he asked, trying to focus on her but having a hard time.
“Yes,” she said, clearly frustrated. “What are you doing, walking about in a state like that. You should have taken a carriage back here. Now hurry up and dress. We’re due for tea at Lord and Lady Markham’s house in less than an hour.”
“No,” Jason mumbled, dragging himself on to the elevator. “I want to go home.”
“You are home,” Lady E argued, stomping after him and wedging herself into the elevator beside him. “London is your home now. This hotel is our home.”
“I want Flossie,” he said, surprised that the words came out as a wail. “I want to go home.” Remembering the whore who’d picked his pocket, he snatched at his coat, thrusting his hands into the pockets in search of Flossie’s watch.
“Jason, calm down,” Lady E said, a strange look in her eyes.
“What are you talking about?” Lady E asked, a new, frightened tremor in her voice. “We’re home. What are you looking for?”
“Flossie,” Jason said, bursting into the top floor hall as the elevator stopped and the attendant opened the doors. “I want to go home. Where’s Flossie?” His pulse beat so hard that the edges of his vision went black. He couldn’t take a breath without pain.
“Jason, you’re scaring me,” Lady E said, following him as he tore down the hall to his suite. He managed to unlock the door and rush inside, Lady E right behind him. “Jason, calm down.”
But he was as far from calm as it was possible to be. His whole body shook, inside and out, as he tore at the buttons of his coat, fumbling to take the sodden garment off. He was hardly aware when it dropped to a heavy pile behind him. He was too busy ripping at the pockets of his waistcoat and trousers.
“Where is it? Where did it go? Flossie,” he growled, vaguely aware he was weeping.
“What are you looking for, Jason,” Lady E asked, her voice shaking. Jason caught a glimpse of her in the mirror over his bureau, wide-eyed, pale, and terrified. “I’ll help you if you just tell me what you’re looking for.”
“Flossie’s heart,” Jason said, unbuttoning his waistcoat and rifling through the pockets. “Where is it?”
“I don’t know,” Lady E squeaked. She clapped a hand to her mouth and backed away from him.
Jason only vaguely registered that her actions might have been because he’d kicked off his shoes and removed his trousers. Part of him wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Part of him was surprised that he had stripped down. But mostly he didn’t care. Flossie’s watch was safe and sound in his right trouser pocket, exactly where he’d put it that morning.
The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part Two Page 6
