The Suffragette Scandal (The Brothers Sinister) Page 29

  She frowned and folded her arms.

  James strode forward confidently, marching up to the house at an even pace.

  The front doors remained obstinately shut. James came up short, inches from the wood panels, and frowned at the doors in confusion. Slowly, he retreated a few steps. Then he walked to the doors more tentatively. They still didn’t open.

  There were no servants to open them after all. James no doubt had no experience with the concept of no servants.

  His brother reached out and, with a quizzical expression on his face, touched the door handle.

  “Do you think he’ll be able to figure it out?” Free said beside Edward.

  Edward wasn’t sure. Some evil part of him wanted to pull out his pocket watch and see how many seconds would elapse before his brother decided to take on the arduous task of exerting pressure on the handle himself. Instead, he sighed. “It’s your home, Free, whether you accept me or not. With all that my brother has done to you, can we even let him in?”

  Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. “With all that he has done to you, can you let him in?”

  For a moment, they exchanged glances. She sighed and looked away first; he blew out his breath.

  “I suppose we’ll have to have this out with him sooner or later,” Edward said.

  Her hands went to her hips. “Sooner,” she said with a growl. “Let’s finish this sooner.”

  “Then I’ll show him how hinges operate.”

  He left her behind. The front door opened easily, letting afternoon sun spill into the darkened entry.

  James was standing there, the strangest expression on his face. When he saw that Edward had opened the door himself, his face turned pale. He put one hand in his pocket.

  “Edward,” he said. “Where the devil are all the servants?”

  “On a seaside vacation,” Edward replied. “They’ll be back in a few days.”

  “All of them?”

  He hadn’t come here to talk about the servants. Edward stood to one side and gestured his brother into the house. Not so long ago, James had thought this house his. It must burn him up to have to demand entrance. But if it bothered James, he made no sign of it. He simply followed Edward into the blue parlor.

  He didn’t notice Free sitting on a chair on the opposite side of the room. James turned to look at Edward as soon as he came through the door.

  “We must talk of the future,” James was saying. “I don’t like what you’ve done. You lied to me and have set the most intense scandal brewing. Everyone in London is talking about your claims at the hearing. There are the most unbelievable rumors about what happened after.”

  “Is that so?” Edward asked, not quite politely.

  “But it’s not too late.” James gave Edward a decisive nod. “If we are to make it through this affair with some semblance of dignity, you and I must be seen to be on friendly terms.”

  “Must we? I should think that would be impossible.”

  “Yes.” James sighed, completely misunderstanding. “It will be difficult for me to pretend after what you’ve done to me, but I can do it for the sake of the family name. I’ll start by offering a little advice. You must stop doing ridiculous things like sending all the servants to the seaside. You’ll get a reputation as an eccentric if you keep that up, and you’re laboring under enough of a burden as it is.”

  “I don’t mind having a reputation as an eccentric.”

  James waved this off. “You say that now, but give yourself a few months and you’ll come around.” He crossed the room to find a decanter and poured himself a glass. This he raised. “You’ve a name and title to live up to, Edward. The burden changes you. We can waste time snapping at one another, or we can handle this as gentlemen and brothers.”

  “Ah. How do gentlemen and brothers handle things, then?” Edward asked.

  His brother still hadn’t seen Free. She sat frozen in place, watching the two of them.

  James went back to Edward, glass in hand, and punched his shoulder in what Edward guessed was meant to be a gentlemanly, brotherly fashion. “You look positively middle class in that garb, and we can’t have that. So I’ll drag you back to town and introduce you to my tailor. After that, I must show you around to all the right people. You’ll have to marry—the right wife will open doors, no matter what your past. In fact, I know just the woman, if you’ll trust me.”

  Ha.

  “You’ll make me an allowance that befits my station. We’ll smile at one another in public. That will tell everyone that no matter how unusual your past might have been, you’ve agreed to play by the proper rules.”

  “I see,” Edward said gravely. The allowance, he suspected, was his brother’s primary object—and the only reason he’d not yet turned ugly. “There are numerous flaws with that plan, but one problem seems insurmountable.”

  James raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m already married.”

  His brother’s chin jerked up. “That was one of the rumors from yesterday that I had hoped was not true. Surely, what I heard must have been garbled in some fashion. Even you would not stoop so low as to marry—”

  “Oh, I didn’t stoop to marry,” Edward said. “Rest assured on that count.”

  “Ah.” James looked visibly pleased.

  “In fact, you can meet her yourself. Turn around.”

  James did. Edward could tell the moment he caught sight of her. The change that came over his brother was absolutely electric. He almost snarled, and he took two steps back.

  “This is a joke,” he said. “The rumors, her here… It’s a joke.”

  Free stood.

  “It’s not a joke,” Edward told him.

  “Oh.” James swallowed. “My God, Edward. This is bad. Really bad. Worse than anything I feared yesterday.”

  He hadn’t said a word in greeting to Free. He’d not acknowledged her beyond that bulging of his eyes, and Edward felt his anger begin to come to a boil.

  James turned back to Edward. “You can’t marry her. For God’s sake, Edward. Think about what the Delacey family name means. We’ll figure out…something. I promise. We’ll have her…”

  “I go by Edward Clark,” Edward said. “I have been called Clark for the last seven years. I’m not going to be a Delacey again, and I sure as hell won’t ask my wife to take on that name. If it comes down to it, I’ll take her name before I take on Delacey.”

  James sputtered. “That’s absurd. And so is she. I know that she”—he pointed accusingly toward Free—“can utterly bewitch a man. God knows I’ve experienced it myself. But—”

  Edward’s hand clenched on his brother’s shoulder. “A piece of advice,” Edward said. “Don’t insult my wife. Whatever you’re about to say? Swallow it.”

  “Why, because she’s so utterly seduced you that you’d strike your own brother? That’s proof enough that you need to hear what I’m saying, however hard those truths must be for you.”

  “My own brother?” Edward said. “This is the brother who tried to have my wife’s business burned to the ground? The brother who had lawfully issued permits quashed, who conspired to have her thrown in gaol and assaulted with who knows what sorts of torture?”

  Free stood and took a step toward James. “This is also, I take it, the brother who wrote the British Consul in Strasbourg claiming that you were an impostor.”

  “Yes. That.” Edward scowled.

  James raised his hands placatingly. “I’ll grant you, that last was a misstep.”

  “No, James, I know how a brother acts. The man who is truly my brother risked his life to save me when I needed him. He told me I could be someone good, instead of telling me I was an embarrassment for engaging in trade. He would never sneer at my wife, let alone threaten to put her away. I know what it’s like to have a brother, and you’re not mine.”

  James drew himself up. “Very well, then. Make your own way into society. Court scandal, if you wish. I only came here to help you.” He sniffed.
“Much good that has done me. You can talk to my solicitor about an acceptable allowance.”

  He turned to leave.

  Free spoke again. “Do you really think, after everything you’ve done, that you’ll be getting an allowance?”

  James stopped once more. His shoulders tensed. He turned to her, his lip curling.

  “I’m a gentleman,” he said stiffly. “Of course I will.”

  “You think that we should provide you with enough money so that you can continue to hurt others.” She snorted. “That seems unwise. You were a horrible plague before. Why on earth should we give you the opportunity to go on like that?”

  “I…because…” James trailed off. He looked as bewildered as if he’d walked up to a house and had the doors remain stubbornly closed. “Because,” he repeated, “I’m a gentleman. Because it would be scandalous to do otherwise.” His teeth ground. “Because my own funds will run out in a few years’ time. Think what having a destitute brother-in-law would mean for our family reputation. I don’t think I need to discuss anything else in mixed company. Even if the company in question is hardly ladylike.”

  Free simply shrugged off that insult. “I told you once that everything you tried to do to me, I’d bring back to you a thousandfold. Now, maybe you’ll believe me.”

  James stared at her, his teeth grinding, his face turning red. Then he turned away, jerking his head toward Edward. “You need to control your wife.”

  “Haven’t you figured it out?” Edward said quietly. “I married her to unleash her on the world, not to keep her under wraps.”

  James blinked, as if trying to understand that.

  “I married her because she made me believe in her,” Edward said. “Because I wished her beyond your power, not under mine. You have no idea of the debt I owe her. For her I’d do the unthinkable.”

  He glanced back at Free.

  “If she asked me to do it,” he told James, “I’d even forgive you.”

  He let that settle in, let his brother understand it. He watched as James turned to Free, his jaw working. He wondered if James would find the words to beg, or if, as he’d done with the door, he’d be brought up confused and short.

  He never would find out.

  “Don’t bother,” Free told his brother. “Whatever you have to say, I’ll not be moved. You’re young. You’ve a good education and several years of funds. It’s never too late to learn a trade.”

  James let out an inarticulate cry of rage. “A trade!”

  “A trade.” Edward found himself smiling. “It’s what most men do. Try it sometime; it might agree with you.”

  James’s hands balled into fists. “You’ll regret this. You shall truly regret this. There will be a scandal, I tell you.”

  Free came forward. “Yes,” she said simply. “We are going to make the most massive scandal. We’re good at scandals, you see. And if you think that what has happened to you will be the extent of that scandal, think again. You are going to be the smallest, the most forgettable, part of what we do.”

  Her fingers crept into Edward’s hand, and he grasped hold of her. She felt real and solid. She felt as if she’d come to his side not just for the moment, but…for good. Forever.

  She drew up her chin. “Now get out of our house,” she said.

  And James left.

  THE DOOR CLOSED BEHIND Edward’s brother.

  Free stared after him, hearing her own words echoing in her mind. Get out of our house. She’d just accepted all of this.

  “Free.” Edward’s hand clenched in hers. He turned to her, slid his other arm around her waist. “Are you all right?”

  That was when she realized she was shaking. “Yes. I—it’s just—”

  “I know,” Edward said. “It’s just.”

  Free took a deep breath and looked around the blue parlor. She still didn’t fit. She didn’t know how to take on this role.

  “Ah,” Edward said. He smiled at her—that smile that she’d learned to read as vulnerability rather than wickedness. “When I said we, of course, I didn’t mean to imply—”

  She took hold of his shoulders. He stopped midsentence and then shook his head.

  “I meant,” he whispered, “me—and—if you should decide—”

  “Oh, you idiot,” Free said. “You’re the only one who would make all this worthwhile.”

  And then she did what she’d been wanting to do since she first saw him at her parents’ house: She kissed him. Not lightly. Her hands dug into his coat, her fingers tangling in the fabric, and she pushed up to him. His mouth met hers.

  “Free,” he groaned. “God.”

  They would make it work. Somehow.

  “I have to believe this,” she told him. “I have to believe that with the jokes about thimbles—the way we have been able to weather every crisis that has come our way together…” She took another kiss from him. “I have to believe that with all of that, that we can figure this out, too. I don’t know how yet. But if you believe in us, then I will, too.”

  His thumb traced down her throat, a sensual line. “I love you. How could I not believe in you? But—”

  She brought him close. “Don’t say it,” she said. “Don’t tell me how little you trust yourself, Edward. I’ve had enough of that. Tell me I can believe in you. That I can trust you. That you’ll never let me down.”

  He let out a long breath. And then slowly, his lips came down to hers. “I…” His voice was rough. “I…”

  “Because when I look at what you’ve done for me, I can believe in you. You saved my newspaper from the fire. You rescued me from prison. You gathered evidence so that I could prosecute a suit against your brother.”

  His lips were rough against hers. “Free.”

  “And I haven’t even mentioned the puppy-cannon.”

  He kissed her. “Sweetest, I have another confession to make. This may be almost as bad as the last one.”

  She pulled away, looking up at him, almost afraid to hear what he had to say.

  He leaned down and whispered. “I don’t have a puppy-cannon.”

  “No puppy-cannon?” she echoed.

  “No. The physics of cannons are actually really unkind for dogs. I can’t endorse the idea, however cuddly it sounds in principle. Although I have to admit that it would make an excellent parliamentary tactic. You could sit in the Ladies’ Gallery. On my signal, when someone said something ridiculous…” He made a noise that sounded something like a rocket.

  “Arf, arf,” she added, half-smiling. “Will it shock you to hear that I believe in you, even sans cannon? I do, Edward. I believe in you. And I wish you would, too.”

  He let out a long, ragged breath. “I…I believe.” His voice was harsh. “I believe in us.” And then he pulled her to him.

  His kiss consumed her. His hands were hot against her body. She wasn’t sure whether she undid his trousers, or if he did; she wasn’t sure if she wrapped her legs around his hips, or if he lifted her against the wall. But when he joined with her, his hands strong against her waist, she let herself fall into the feel of him, the sweep of his kiss. The thrust of him inside her, building—joining.

  Roughly though they’d come together, her climax came slowly—not a sudden wave, but a slow, rolling gentleness, one that built until it overwhelmed her senses, taking over her. He came shortly after, thrusting hard, holding her in place against the wall as he did.

  When he’d finished, he smiled. “God,” he rumbled. “It’s worth it. It’s all worth it, just for you.”

  She couldn’t disagree.

  He took her up to bed afterward.

  Even that seemed odd and unfamiliar. She smiled at him as he helped her into her nightrail. She curled up in the bed. But she felt small in that vast expanse of linen. Even when he joined her, curling his body around her, all that empty, extra space surrounded them like hostile territory.

  “We’ll make it work,” she told him. “If any two people can make this work, it will be us.”


  He let out a breath, his hand slipping around her waist. “We will. But this isn’t what you wanted from your life.”

  “There is some parity,” she told him. “I doubt you ever said to yourself, ‘I want nothing more than to marry a woman whose radical press garners death threats and arson attempts.’”

  “A failure of imagination on my part.” He kissed her shoulder. “I had only to see you and know I wanted nothing else. You, on the other hand…”

  “Everyone tempers their dreams over time, Edward. We’ll figure out the future tomorrow. For tonight…”

  He let out a breath.

  “For tonight,” Free said, “I finally want to have that conversation you promised me about how attractive I find your muscles.”

  “Ah,” he rumbled against her chest. “Do you?”

  She slid her hands down his side. “I do.”

  And so she did.

  AFTER THEY’D FINISHED the second round, after Free had fallen asleep by his side, Edward slid his arm around her. He could feel her chest rise and fall, slowly at first and then more slowly still.

  It was so close to sweet that he could almost accept it as his future. So close, and yet so far.

  Everyone tempers their dreams sometimes.

  But not Free. He’d wanted to give her a thousand things. Sizing her dreams down to fit in his life had not been on his list. And yet that was what this all would mean, would it not? She’d live in this house, think about his tenants. Even if she moved her newspaper here, the estate would always make extra work for her, sapping her energy from the causes she loved.

  Her breath evened out beside him, deepening, coming to a steady rhythm. The evening darkened from blue to purple to black.

  “I don’t want you to compromise,” Edward said. “I want you unbowed.”

  But Free was asleep and she didn’t even mutter in response.

  “I love you,” Edward told her. “I want to give you your heart’s desire, not spend the rest of my life knowing that I stole your dreams from you.”

  Still she didn’t move. Years with her stretched out in front of him—years of almost, years where she felt happiness with him nearly as great as if they’d never met. Years watching her look out the windows of this great big house, remembering what she’d once had.