The Brynthwaite Boys - Season One - Part Three Read online

  Flossie opened her mouth, her eyes ablaze with anger, but no words came out. Jason couldn’t help but remember his conversation with Lawrence in which he’d insisted that Flossie would have married him no matter who he was. But as she clamped her mouth shut, a new idea tickled at him. Perhaps Lady E. was right. Why should a woman as magnificent as Flossie settle for her children being nameless bastards?

  Of course, he could always tell Lady E. to shove off, and he could marry Flossie and make an honest woman of her instead.

  “I see what you’re thinking,” Lady E. went on, addressing him this time. “What benefit would that arrangement have for you? What use would it be to have sons that inherited an earldom when you remain nothing more than a wealthy orphan?”

  It wasn’t even close to what he’d been thinking, but he was too stunned to reply.

  “I have a solution to that.” Lady E. began her pacing again. “Wealth is power, as we all know, and in England, wealth can buy you a baronetcy. Once we are married, I shall appeal to my well-positioned relations to help speed you through the Queen’s honor roll, and in no time you shall be Sir Jason Throckmorton.”

  “Sir Jason Throckmorton?” Jason arched an eyebrow. As suspicious as this entire plan was, a wicked part of him liked the sound of the title.

  “It would be simple to do,” Lady E. went on, back to smiling. “And as long as I was appealing to my relations for help in that matter, I’m quite certain they would be delighted to help your friend Dr. Pycroft with his concerns as well.”

  Jason felt as though he’d swallowed the bone along with the expertly-prepared chicken. “My earlier understanding was that you would lend your help and your connections to Marshall’s cause as a matter of course.”

  “If we are married.” She nodded. “If not.” She stopped her pacing and shrugged.

  “Blackmail?” Flossie gasped.

  “No, no.” Lady E. brushed her aside with a laugh. “Merely sweetening the pot. Can’t you see, it’s the perfect arrangement. Each of us gets a grand prize in the end. I get the London society I have always craved, Jason gets the legitimacy of a baronetcy and an entry into the upper classes, and you get to see your children take their places as peers of the realm. Why, I’m certain we could arrange for them to attend Eton and then whichever fine university you prefer. All it takes is one simple sham of a marriage.”

  She finished her presentation of the scheme and clasped her hands in front of her. Jason half thought she would curtsy, as though she’d just completed a turn at the piano.

  Silence reigned. As much as he tried to grasp everything that had just been said and suggested, none of it felt real. In fact, it all felt distinctly like a twisted fairy tale. Lady E. had told it with such optimism and vigor, but Jason was certain disaster lurked directly under the surface of such a plan.

  “Where would we live?” he asked, voice dark with gravel.

  “Wherever you choose,” she answered. “I would prefer to live in London, of course. That is part of the deal. You and Flossie could continue to reside at The Dragon’s Head, or you could move into a wing of Huntingdon Hall, particularly once heirs are born so that you could be close to them. It makes no difference to me.”

  “And if word of the arrangement were to become public?” Flossie asked.

  “Would it be any stranger than the arrangement you already have in place?” Lady E. countered.

  Another silence followed. Jason stole another glance at Flossie. She turned to him outright, fixing him with a stare that left him split between feeling as though he was in deep trouble and that no matter what he said, it would be wrong.

  Through that look, he somehow felt the urge to smile. The whole situation was utterly ridiculous. Laughable. Reasonable men and women should not be subjected to this level of tomfoolery, and yet it always seemed that he and Flossie found themselves in the most ludicrous of circumstances. As far as they should be concerned, this wasn’t the strangest hurdle they’d had to jump.

  Flossie must have sensed the smile behind his grave expression. Her face softened, and she sighed. Jason took that as his cue to speak.

  He cleared his throat, sat straighter, and tugged at the bottom of his coat.

  “You can’t possibly expect us to give you an answer to something so momentous right this moment,” he began.

  “No, of course not,” Lady E. agreed with a conciliatory smile.

  “It will take a great deal of thought and deliberation between the two of us.” He took Flossie’s hand and held it firmly.

  “As I expected.” Lady E’s smile grew.

  Jason paused, checking with Flossie once more. Her face was tight in a frown, but trust lingered in her eyes.

  “Flossie and I are scheduled to take a recuperative holiday by the sea in a fortnight,” he continued. “We will discuss the matter then and give you an answer when we return.”

  “A fortnight?” Lady E. shook her head. “Oh, no. My Aunt Charlotte is marrying in a fortnight, and I expect you to be by my side for the ceremony and reception.”

  If ever writing had appeared on the wall, it was then. Naturally Lady E. expected him to be at her beck and call, as her husband or her friend, whatever the circumstances.

  “We are going away in a fortnight,” he repeated, firmer, clutching Flossie’s hand more tightly. She sat straighter as well and fixed Lady E. with a hard stare. “You shall have our answer when we return.”

  Lady E. pressed her lips shut. She writhed on her spot, balling her hands into fists at her sides. At last, she let out a breath. “Oh, very well. But are you quite certain you will not be able to attend the wedding before rushing off to your holiday?”

  Jason glanced to Flossie. She met his look of question with a “no” that could not have been more clear if she had spoken it aloud.

  “I doubt it,” Jason said.

  “I see.” Lady E. huffed. “Then there is nothing I can do but wait for your answer.”

  “Nothing at all,” Flossie said with a wicked smile.

  Jason recalled the words of Mother Grace’s prophecy, that he had reached a fork in his path and must choose one way or the other, and that once he did, his life would be changed forever. Well, he doubted she’d considered that he could barge on ahead, tramping through the brambles and thorns of the wilderness between the two paths. Where he was headed was anyone’s guess.

  Lawrence

  The back streets of Kendal were dark, lit only by greasy yellow light that slanted down from streetlamps that hadn’t been cleaned in ages. Lawrence pressed his back against the wall of a fourth-rate pub, keeping to the shadows. His heart raced and his jaw was clenched with determination. Hoag was nearby, but that was the least of his concerns.

  He peeked around the corner, careful to keep out of sight, thankful, for once, for his dark coloring. At the back of the alley behind the pub, Constance Hoag sat on a broken crate, her skirt lifted up to her thighs. Her face was bruised and painted with rouge and misery, but she inspired Lawrence with hope nonetheless. Connie had been there the night Hoag killed Matty’s mother. She had witnessed all. Every nerve in Lawrence’s body was alive with desperation to whisk her away to safety.

  “Three pennies for this sweet young thing,” the wiry man standing beside Connie’s crate called out to a drunk exiting the back of the pub. “Fresh as a daisy and ready for what you need.” The man had the air of a sideshow barker. His missing teeth stood out in the oily smile he displayed for the pub patron.

  “How old is she?” the man from the pub growled.

  “Older than you’d think, but not as old as she could be,” the barker told him. “She’s got the right parts in the right places.”

  Lawrence held his breath, stomach clenching in disgust. It was no surprise that Hoag wouldn’t do the pimping himself. He’d certainly collect the proceeds, though. Probably shortchange the barker too.

  “Nah.” The pub patron batted at the air as he lurched away, stumbling up the alley.

  Lawrence
pressed his back to the wall, saying a quick prayer of thanks to the Goddess for preserving the innocent.

  A moment later, he abandoned his prayers and focused on the alley once more. The pub’s back door slapped open again. This time, a tall man in a fine suit with a sleek top hat stepped into the alley.

  “Evening, gov’ner,” the barker greeted him, touching his fingers to his brow. “Care for a diddle? Just six shillings for all that you want.”

  Lawrence stopped himself from snorting at the change in price.

  The man in the top had sidled closer to Connie. Lawrence couldn’t make out his face, but the man grabbed Connie’s chin and tipped her face up. The faint light was enough to highlight Connie’s trembling look of fear.

  “Open your mouth, girl,” the top hat man ordered.

  Connie squeaked, but did as she was told. The top hat man thrust a finger into her mouth to run along her teeth. He then grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled it down low enough to expose Connie’s budding breasts. Poor Connie whimpered. Lawrence balled his hands into fists at his sides.

  “I’ll give you two shillings for an hour,” the man in the top hat said.

  “Here now, she’s worth at least four. Virginal she is,” the barker argued.

  The top hat man snorted. “As virginal as a dock wench, eh?” The barker hesitated, so the top hat man went on with, “I could report you to the authorities, you know.”

  In a flash, the barker was smiling. “Two shillings it is, sir, and thank you kindly.”

  The top hat man fished around in his pocket. He handed the barker a single coin. “There’s one shilling for now. You’ll get the other when we get back.”

  “Back, gov’ner?” The barker’s face fell.

  “I have a room in the building across the way. One hour, and I’ll bring her back here.”

  The barker hesitated, but the top hat man grabbed Connie’s arm, lifting her off the crate and to her feet. There was nothing either of them could do.

  “Right you are, sir,” the barker said at last, forcing a smile. “Have a lovely evening.”

  He crossed behind the man in the top hat as he and Connie started out the alley. The barker disappeared into the pub.

  Lawrence pressed his back to the wall once more. As the unlikely pair passed in front of him, the man in the top hat flickered a glance to the side. He met Lawrence’s eyes and nodded. Lawrence nodded in return. Poor, frightened Connie didn’t see the gestures.

  As soon as the top hat man and Connie disappeared inside of the run-down hotel across from the pub, Lawrence launched into action. He pushed away from the wall and darted through the shadows to the far end of the road. Connie was secure. The man in the top hat, Kent Jarvis, a friend who worked as a driver on a nearby estate, would walk Connie through the downstairs hall of the hotel and out the other side, whisking her through the alley at the far end and out to a waiting carriage borrowed from the estate.

  Lawrence’s concern now was the younger two Hoag children.

  According to all that Matty had told him, Hoag had his younger children begging on the street to earn a few extra coins. As like as not, he was forcing them to beg in order to punish Matty and threaten Connie as well. He would be nearby, but out of sight. The trick would be to take the young children before he noticed.

  The corner near several of the finer pubs in Kendal was much better lit than the back alley where Connie had been set up. Young Willy and Elsie sat on the front steps of an establishment with highly polished wood doors. Cheerful music and the sound of laughter came from the pub. Neither Willy nor Elsie spoke, but both held battered tin cans. Every time a patron entered or exited the pub, they would hold up their cans.

  Lawrence waited, watching for his opportunity. Planning for Kent to whisk Connie off was one thing, but there hadn’t been time or enough friends nearby to figure out a foolproof plan for rescuing the younger children. Lawrence rubbed his chin, eyes narrowed as he studied the situation. Whatever he chose to do, he would need to act fast.

  An opportunity presented itself before he was finished considering what to do.

  “I say, who put these nasty beggars here?” A rotund patron of the pub bellowed as he stepped out for a breath of fresh air. “When I’m elected, this kind of filth will be wiped from our streets.”

  Lawrence jumped into action. Keeping an eye peeled for any sign of Hoag, he rushed toward the pub’s front stairs.

  “I’ll take care of them for you, sir.” He nodded to the politician, scooping one of the kids under each arm.

  They were too startled to protest. Both were frighteningly light. Their bones poked through their clothes, and neither put up any sort of a fight.

  As expected, before Lawrence could run more than a few yards, Hoag’s ear-splitting bellow of, “Oy! Those are my kids you’re running off with,” sounded. He was close.

  “Hold on,” Lawrence told the children. He paused in a slice of shadow to adjust his grip on both of them, checking over his shoulder to see if Hoag was following. By some brilliant twist of luck, the politician stepped into Hoag’s path as he darted across the street in pursuit of Lawrence.

  “Now just a moment,” the politician began, stopping Hoag with a hand to his chest.

  Lawrence didn’t bother to watch the drama that would certainly unfold. He checked his grip on the children, then broke into a full-out run.

  He kept to the shadows and back alleys as much as he could, shifting directions and darting down side streets whenever he could. Hoag would catch up to him, likely sooner than later, and the more he confused the residents of the buildings lining this part of Kendal who could report where he’d gone in his flight, the better. He knew exactly where he was headed, though.

  By the time he dashed out of a half-lit alley to the street where Kent’s carriage was waiting, his lungs burned and his arms ached with effort.

  “That was quick,” Kent called down from the driver’s seat.

  “I had a stroke of luck,” Lawrence panted in answer.

  Kent jumped down and threw open the door so that Lawrence could dive into the carriage. Connie was curled in a ball inside. She gasped and shrank further, then yelped in surprise when she saw Willy and Elsie. The three siblings clung to each other as soon as Lawrence let the younger two go.

  “We need to get out of here as soon as possible,” Lawrence said, gesturing for Kent to climb back to the driver’s seat.

  “We’ll take them to Morningside Landing,” Kent agreed, jumping up and reaching for the reins. “Lord Waltham is ready to help in any way he can.”

  Lawrence nodded and leapt into the carriage, slamming the door. It was a blessing that there were still good people left in the world, people who would help when help was needed. Though he was loathe to involve anyone in anything having to do with Hoag.

  The carriage lurched forward. Lawrence reached for the blinds on the windows, lowering them. The inside of the carriage was thrown into darkness, but before they lost the light completely, he caught a glint of recognition in Connie’s eyes, followed by a burst of tears. She knew she’d been saved.

  Episode Twelve - A Question Answered

  Jason

  “A message just came in for you, sir,” Samuel called from the front desk as Jason neared the bottom of the stairs.

  Jason held a suitcase in each hand and had his hat tucked under his arm. He clenched his jaw, wondering what the bloody hell could be holding him up now. Flossie had already made him pack and repack their two suitcases three times, insisting if he was going to do something, he must do it correctly. He set the suitcases down at the foot of the stairs, and strode on to the desk.

  “What is it?” he barked as he approached Samuel.

  “Don’t know, sir,” Samuel replied, a sullen pinch to his face. “A servant from Huntingdon Hall delivered it not more than half an hour ago.”

  Jason sighed and swiped the note as Samuel handed it to him. It was barely nine o’clock, far too early for Lady E. to be pe
stering him. But sure enough, the letter was addressed in her delicate, looping handwriting.

  “Guests will arrive at Huntingdon Hall for my aunt’s wedding beginning at eleven. I have discussed with you how important I believe it to be for you to attend by my side. Surely you can catch a later train to the sea. I will expect you before half-past ten.” The note was signed “Elizabeth” in indulgently large script.

  Jason snorted and crumpled the note in one hand.

  “What is that?”

  He turned to find Flossie striding toward him from the back hallway, a stack of linens in her arms. His chest squeezed in delight at the sight of her. Gone was the black dress, white apron, and cap she had worn as any other member of the maid staff. Now she wore a modest, dusky blue skirt that reached to her ankles, a plain white blouse with a high collar and puffy sleeves, and a wide belt of dark blue to highlight her narrow waist. The blue also brought out the spark in her eyes. The only thing missing from the picture she painted was an attractive brooch to complete the ensemble. He would have to buy her one as soon as possible. That and he would have preferred she wear her silky black hair down instead of pulled back in a chignon.

  Then again, if her hair was down where he could run his hands through it at any time, as he so enjoyed doing when they were in bed, he would never be able to walk sensibly again. Already he was dealing with a sizeable impediment under the concealing folds of his coat. Whereas five months ago, when they’d met, his state would have driven him to despair, now he chose to see it as a badge of pride in Flossie, her appearance, and her sweetness.

  Which, of course, was utterly mad considering that he had a job to do and an offer of marriage hanging over his head.

  “Well?” she asked as she came to stand beside him. She set the stack of linens on the desk.

  Samuel was unable to hide the curl of his lip as he sneered at the two of them or the derision he held for the linens, but he edged away and turned his back at the slightest hint of the frown Jason shot his way. Jason had plans for Samuel and his attitude. After he answered Flossie.