Betsy dodged out of the way and was about to launch into another protest, Flossie was sure, when the front door opened and Polly blew into the lobby with a burst of frigid air.
“You’ll never guess what’s happened,” she said, spotting Flossie. “Lady Arabella’s done a runner.” She stopped, her mouth open to say more, when she spotted Betsy. “Why, as I live and breathe, Betsy Stowe.”
“Polly,” Betsy said uncertainly, tilting her chin up. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see if Flossie knew anything about Lady Arabella,” she said.
“She’s the missing lady,” Mr. Armstrong said, his eyes bright with excitement, as though he were watching a particularly suspenseful play. “The police are searching the hotel for her.”
“They won’t find her,” Jason said, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Why?” Mr. Armstrong asked. “Do you know something about where she truly is?”
“No,” Jason answered. To Flossie, it was clear he was lying, but she doubted Mr. Armstrong would see it. “Did Lady E send you, Polly?” he asked.
“She did,” Polly admitted with a sideways grin. “You of all people should know she can’t bear to be out of the loop when there’s excitement to be had.”
“Why should he care what some lady thinks?” Betsy asked, eyeing Polly suspiciously.
“Don’t you know?” Polly blinked. “He and Lady E are engaged to be married.”
“They are?” Betsy’s eyes went wide.
“They are?” Mr. Armstrong looked fascinated and delighted.
“You are?” Flossie asked in a curious voice, crossing her arms and staring hard at Jason. She’d been as certain as he’d been that Lady E would throw him over when he went to Huntingdon Hall that morning. She’d been looking forward to it, hoping for it, even. But she and Jason hadn’t had the chance to talk since he’d come back from the Hall. Part of her had assumed his upbeat attitude when he’d returned from the Hall was because he was free of Lady E at last.
“We are,” Jason said, looking more than a little sheepish. “I haven’t had a chance to explain.”
“Hold on,” Betsy said, shaking her head and turning to Flossie. “You’re giving it away regular to a man who’s engaged to someone else—and having his baby—and you stood there all hoity-toity and moral, telling me not to carry on with Bob? You hypocrite.”
“It really is highly irregular to engage yourself to one woman while cleaving to another,” Mr. Armstrong told Jason in a gently scolding tone.
“It is a complicated situation,” Jason said, raising his voice—a clear sign that he was at the end of his patience.
Strangely enough, it was also a sign that he was feeling more like himself. The Jason who had returned from London had been slinking around the hotel for a week, head and voice lowered, moping as though there were no hope left in the world. It brought a paradoxical smile to Flossie’s face to see him taking charge of the situation once more.
“I’ll say it’s a complicated situation,” Betsy said with a sneer, looking down her nose at Flossie. “So complicated you couldn’t share your good fortune.”
“Don’t you go pretending everything is sweet and rosy like it is in picture books, Betsy Stowe,” Polly said, surprising Flossie by rushing to her and Jason’s defense. “There’s far more going on in the back rooms than there is in the front.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Mr. Armstrong said as though Polly had addressed him. A knowing grin spread across his face. “Why, I’ll admit that I’ve had a few indiscreet dealings with ladies myself in the past.”
Flossie could have laughed at the pride in the man’s eyes as he spoke, as if a few past dalliances bonded him more closely with Jason. The man was desperate to please and to be counted as part of Jason’s inner circle, she could tell. She could also tell that Jason was not the sort to appreciate having a lackey.
“Discreet or indiscreet, my relationship with Flossie and my connection to Lady E is not a topic for public discussion,” Jason said, holding up his arms as though he would stop the whole thing. “Betsy, you will get nothing that you don’t deserve from your sister, or from me.”
“I don’t want what I don’t deserve,” Betsy argued. “I want what I do deserve.”
“From what I hear, you deserve what you get,” Polly said.
“And what would you know about it, Polly Penrose?” Betsy snapped. “You’re just deviant, you are.”
“I am no such thing.” Polly planted her fists on her hips and glared at Betsy as though she would start a fight.
The fight didn’t have a chance to start, though. Constable Burnell, his deputy, and George Fretwell appeared at the top of the stairs.
“She’s not here,” Constable Burnell said.
“And I say she is and that these two are hiding her,” Mr. Fretwell growled as they reached the lobby.
“Why would Flossie or I have any reason to keep Lady Arabella’s whereabouts a secret from you?” Jason asked Mr. Fretwell, disdain dripping from his words.
Mr. Fretwell eyed Jason as though he knew exactly why, but he said nothing.
“I stand by my original theory,” Constable Burnell said, turning to Mr. Fretwell. “She caught the last train out of Brynthwaite. She’s probably halfway to Manchester by now.”
Mr. Fretwell looked unwilling to accept the explanation. He balled his hands into fists by his sides and glared at Jason as though Lady Arabella were in his pocket. “I want Manchester searched, then,” he said. “My wife had no right to leave me. I want her back.”
“Do you?” Jason asked pointedly, arching a brow at Mr. Fretwell. “Do you really?”
Flossie wished she had the power to ask the same question. As far as she knew, Mr. Fretwell had married Lady Arabella for her money, spent it all in record time, and held nothing but resentment for the poor woman now.
“Let us know if she turns up at the hotel,” Constable Burnell said, heading for the door. “We’ve got other places to search in town, but it really is most likely that she would come here for the night.”
“We’ll keep you informed of any changes we see here,” Jason said, escorting them to the door.
Mr. Fretwell followed, albeit reluctantly and with venomous looks for Jason and Flossie.
“Hold on just one moment.” Mr. Armstrong chased after the departing group. When Jason paused to stare at him, he said, “Don’t you want to tell the police about the other matter?”
“There is no other matter,” Jason said between clenched teeth.
“You mean the theft problem?” Constable Burnell asked, his hand on the doorknob. “We’ll look into it.”
He started to leave, but Mr. Armstrong blurted, “No, the other matter.”
“Mr. Armstrong,” Flossie said, louder than she should have. “Would you like me to show you the system I’ve devised for keeping track of the hotel’s inventory?”
In an instant, Mr. Armstrong’s expression switched from troubled and anxious to delighted. “I would be honored, Miss Stowe.” He skipped away from the door and back to Flossie’s side.
“Are you going to start slumming it with this one too?” Betsy asked, her lip curled in a sneer.
“Hold your tongue or you’ll be out on the street,” Flossie snapped at her.
Jason finished saying goodbye to Constable Burnell and Mr. Fretwell, shut the door, and marched back to Flossie and the others. “Right,” he said. “Let’s all get one thing straight. None of us has room to criticize the others for our relationships.” He stared at Betsy, then at Polly, then turned a slightly less firm look on Mr. Armstrong.
“I wouldn’t dream of criticizing anything you do, sir,” Mr. Armstrong answered solemnly.
Flossie could practically hear Jason rolling his eyes inwardly.
“Secondly,” Jason went on, “Everyone here has gotten exactly what they deserve and will not be getting anything more.” He stared with particular fierceness at Betsy.
“I’m not l
eaving until I get an explanation at least for why Flossie stopped sending money home,” Betsy said, crossing her arms.
“She stopped because I told her to stop,” Jason insisted. It was another bald-faced lie, but Flossie wasn’t about to contradict him. “Thirdly,” Jason continued, “I want everyone to go back to their rooms or their homes and to retire for the evening. It’s too late to talk business anymore,” he told Mr. Armstrong.
“Fair enough,” Mr. Armstrong agreed with a smile. “I do feel a bit knackered after the excitement of the day. We shall speak again tomorrow.” He executed a perfect bow for Jason and then for Flossie, nodded to Betsy and Polly, then marched toward the stairs and up.
Jason turned to Polly. “Tell Lady E she has no need to worry, everything is well in hand.”
“Is it?” Polly’s expression lit with curiosity.
“It is.” Jason nodded. His stern expression faltered a bit before he went on with, “Tell her I’ll be up tomorrow to fill her in on what I know.”
“I will indeed,” Polly answered with a cunning grin before turning to leave. She sent Betsy a long, hard stare before she did.
“And you.” Jason rounded on Betsy, pulling himself to his full height. “You’re fooling no one. Go to your room and Flossie and I will discuss what to do about you tomorrow.”
“But I—”
“Now,” Jason bellowed, pointing toward the downstairs hallway.
“All right, all right,” Betsy said, raising her hands defensively and backing away from him. “There’s no need to lose your temper.”
“I’ll lose a lot more than that if you don’t go,” he told her.
Betsy made a good show of looking offended as she retreated, but she was definitely in retreat.
As soon as she rounded the corner and was gone, Flossie let out a hard breath. “Dear God,” she said, shaking her head. “What did we do to deserve all this?”
“Plenty, I’m sure,” Jason grumbled.
“And what’s this about you still being engaged to Lady E?” Flossie asked with renewed energy.
Jason’s commanding look melted into a sheepish one. “I was convinced she was going to throw me over, but as she explained when I went over there, our continued engagement could save my reputation and my business.”
“How?” Flossie asked with a frown, crossing her arms.
“It will be seen as her endorsement of me. By not abandoning me at my lowest point, she insists the entire episode of my…lapse will be brushed under the carpet and all will be able to move on as if it never happened.”
“She said that?” Flossie arched a brow.
“More or less.”
“But why? Why would she be willing to do that for you?”
If anything, Jason looked even more sheepish. “She likes me,” he admitted.
In spite of her suspicion, Flossie’s lips twitched into a smile. So Lady E had good taste after all. And Flossie was certain that the more she thought about it, the more she would realize Lady E was right.
“That’s sensible of her,” she said, sliding closer to Jason. “As it happens, I like you too.”
“Thank God for that,” Jason said, letting out a tense breath and pulling her into his arms. The lobby was empty. Daniel hadn’t returned from the hotel search with the others. So after a quick look around, Jason lowered a hand to Flossie’s backside and lifted her against him, kissing her with a passion that would have given half their guests the vapors.
Flossie looped her arms over his shoulders and kissed him back just as passionately. Something hard pressed against her belly, but it took her a moment to realize it was one of the revolvers Jason had pocketed what seemed like hours ago. “Well,” she panted when he let her go. “There’s something I’ve missed. You’re like a wild west cowboy with those revolvers in your pockets.”
“That’s not the only thing in my pocket,” Jason said, gruff with desire. “I feel as though I could keep you up all night.”
“We might crack the bed in half playing bucking bronco at this rate,” Flossie answered, biting her lip.
Jason looked as though he would lean in for another kiss, but his expression hardened to seriousness. “You know I would if Matty’s life weren’t in danger.”
The splash of cold reality was exactly what Flossie needed. “There has to be something we can do,” she said.
“At the very least, you should go to the hospital and warn Lady Arabella that the police and Fretwell are searching for her.”
“Good idea.” Flossie stepped away from him. “And what about you?”
Jason straightened, tugging at his jacket and looking as powerful as ever. “I should catch up with Lawrence and Barsali to see if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Me too, me too!”
Flossie jumped and Jason flinched as Willy leapt up from behind the desk. The little scamp had likely been there the whole time, through the argument and through the kiss.
“I want to come too,” he insisted, dashing around the desk and up to Jason’s side. “If my sister is in danger, I want to help. Do you have guns? Can I have a gun too?”
“It’s far too dangerous for you out there,” Flossie said.
But Jason contradicted her with, “Why not? We might be able to use an extra set of eyes and ears.”
“I’m full of eyes and ears,” Willy insisted.
“Get your coat, then,” Jason ordered him, pointing to the back hall.
Willy dashed off, nearly tripping over himself as he did.
“You can’t take a child out to find a murderer,” Flossie hissed.
“If I don’t take him and keep an eye on him, he’ll sneak out and be in even more danger,” Jason insisted. “Or do you deny that?”
Flossie deflated, chewing her lip with worry. “You’re right. He’d do just that sort of thing.”
“Then he’ll come with me and I’ll keep him within arm’s length at all times.”
“Promise me you won’t let any harm come to him,” she said. Willy might not have been her son, but the maternal affection that had grown in her during the past few months was enough to make it feel like he was.
Jason leaned forward to kiss her. “I won’t let a thing happen to him,” he promised. “Just as I would never let a thing happen to our own child.” He rested a hand on Flossie’s belly for a moment, causing her heart to leap with joy, even in the middle of danger. “Now go,” he told her, stepping back. “Make sure Lady Arabella is safe.”
“I will,” she said. She lifted to her toes to give him one last kiss, fetched her coat from the office, and rushed out into the night.
Alexandra
Alex was beyond exhausted by the time Marshall made the final stitch in Winnie’s wrist.
“That should hold,” he said, moving aside so that Alex could clean the site of the sealed wound. He let out a breath and took a step back. “We’ve done what we could. She’s in the hands of fate now.”
“And God help her,” Alex sighed. She finished with Winnie’s wounds then moved to the sink where Marshall stood, washing up. “I can’t help but feel we left this obsession of hers to run too long.”
Marshall turned a surprised look on her. “This isn’t your fault.”
“I know,” Alex said, wincing. She scrubbed her hands under the flow of warm water before going on with, “But we both knew she was infatuated with you. We should have drawn a line in the sand sooner.”
Part of Alex expected Marshall to downplay the situation and to tell her once again that she had played no part in Winnie’s madness. He was silent, though. Alex didn’t like the twist of guilt that darkened his expression.
“What is it?” she said, finishing with her hands, turning off the sink, and reaching for a towel. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”
Marshall unrolled his sleeves and buttoned his cuffs. He avoided Alex’s eyes as he set to work tidying up after the surgery. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me,” he said.
Nause
a welled up in Alex. “Why?” she asked, following him to the counter at the far side of the room where their operating supplies were set up. “Is there something I don’t know about the situation?”
Not only was Marshall not looking at her, a flush had crept up his neck to his face. “I should have done something about her much sooner,” he said.
“What happened?” Alex asked, deadly serious. She pressed a hand to her sour stomach.
At last, Marshall glanced her way. His expression was wracked with guilt. “I thought she would grow tired of her obsession, that it was simply a result of the trauma of her original accident.”
Nothing in his words or tone reassured Alex. “What happened?”
“She was persistent in her belief that there was a spark of attraction between us,” he went on, clumsily placing surgical instruments on a tray to be cleaned.
“And was there an attraction between you?” Alex asked, crossing her arms. In spite of her deeply-held belief that she wasn’t in love with Marshall, her heart teetered on the verge of being broken depending on his answer.
“If you’re asking if I felt any affection for her at all, the answer is no,” he said, carrying the tray to the sink. He still wouldn’t hold her gaze, though.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Alex followed him, sticking close to his side.
Marshall sighed as he set the tray in the sink and turned on the water. His shoulders drooped before he took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. At last, he straightened and met Alex’s eyes.
“The day I left for London, I went home and found Winnie waiting for me,” he confessed. “She was…undressed, and she advanced on me.”
Alex’s eyes went wide, and her heart thundered against her ribs. “And how did you react?” she asked, sharp and brittle.
“I rejected her,” he said, though he didn’t look remotely proud of himself. “But I won’t lie to you and say I wasn’t tempted.”
Alex had to swallow to keep from being sick. “You were tempted?” she asked, voice hoarse, uncertain whether she was angry or jealous or simply curious. Her claim on Marshall was practical at best. He might be the father of her child, but that didn’t mean she had a right to his fidelity. Not under the original terms of their union.
The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part Two Page 22
