Miss Determined, page 27
Lissa took a seat in the middle of the sofa. “I met Hecate Brompton in the park this morning. She felt I was owed a warning that the man she’d seen kissing me yesterday was soon to offer for her.”
Trevor took the place beside Lissa. “Miss Brompton is in error, but she is at risk of ruin, as are my Dorning connections. More to the point, if I corner Purvis, and he has the least inkling that we are courting, he’ll turn his sights on you. My father earned Purvis’s ire by flirting with the man’s sister, but Purvis sees ill usage in every passing carriage. He excuses his own criminal actions as an effort to right the scales of justice.”
“Are you at risk of ruin?”
“Most assuredly. Do you mind?”
Trevor had put the question casually, though Lissa well knew its import. “I’ve been nearly ruined,” she said. “Twice. It’s only a problem if you let it be. Otherwise, life goes on pretty much as usual. The trades must be paid, the garden weeded, the mares looked after. I will still love you, probably all the more for the way you nobly endure your exile from polite society, provided you endure that exile with me. I am looking very much forward to—”
Trevor took her hand in both of his. “I cannot ask you to endure exile with me.”
“You don’t have to ask,” Lissa said gently, because clearly, Trevor needed the explanation, and that broke her heart. “If you are with me, it’s not exile, Trevor. The exile is here, in Mayfair, where everybody is playing a role, solicitors collect gossip to use against their own clients, and you could not be seen knocking on my front door.”
“I don’t want Purvis connecting us.”
“I want the whole world to know we’re connected, but Purvis is a menace, and for the sake of the greater good, he must be stopped.”
A rap on the door heralded a footman bearing a tea tray. “Mrs. DeWitt will be along in a moment,” he said. “She and Cook are in negotiations over tonight’s sauce. Shall I pour, miss?”
Mama was taking a leaf from Jeanette Dorning’s book, apparently. “No need. If you could comment at length on the sauces under discussion, that would be appreciated.”
The footman, who was a bit long in the tooth for his post, set down the tray. “I have detailed and contrary opinions about sauces, miss. I will give the ladies the benefit of my insights.” He bowed and closed the door behind him.
“Leave it closed, please,” Trevor said, getting to his feet. “The privacy is warranted.”
“Are you about to propose?”
Lissa’s attempt at levity earned an odd glance from her beloved.
“Not quite yet. I am about to tell you that I have a sibling, a fellow who was disowned at birth because of insignificant infirmities. Or perhaps at birth, those infirmities were more evident. In any case, he was also a reticent child who could not crawl at the appointed time and did not properly resemble his father—our father—and thus he was banished to obscurity.”
“Purvis told you this?”
“Flung the news at me as if…” Trevor gazed out at the garden. “As if I’d be appalled to learn that I share my birthright with another. As if I could be shamed by the knowledge that another man treasures my mother’s memory as I do. I am ashamed—of my father’s unbridled vanity—but if I thwart Purvis, I do so knowing my brother’s situation could become public. My brother is shy and innocent…”
Lissa rose, because if ever a man needed to know he was not alone, not exiled by what burdened him, it was Trevor.
She slipped an arm around his waist. “You know your sibling?”
“You introduced us.” Trevor’s arm lay lightly over her shoulders, as if he was ready to let her go.
To whom had Lissa…?
“Phillip,” she said, the name igniting joy and wonder in her heart. “You both stir your tea the same way, and you cock your head to the left when you are considering an idea that must be given its due despite your own notions to the contrary. That’s why the marchioness’s portrait hung in the Lark’s Nest family parlor. Lord Phillip. Does he know?”
“If he does, he said nothing, and I must respect his silence. I have a week to figure out a way to defeat Purvis, and then I’m to make a spectacle of myself courting Miss Brompton. She could probably weather scandal handily enough, but I gather her family is at risk, and she is loyal to them.”
“You and she would make a very impressive couple.”
“Oh, right. And Purvis can then loot two fortunes at the same time. I won’t have it, Amaryllis, but the measures I’ve put in place to ensnare Purvis have not yet borne sufficient fruit.”
“You have a week?”
“I’ve told Purvis I’m off to pout and brood at the family seat while I finish mourning and plot a courtship.”
Lissa shifted to wrap her arms around him, and so what if the gardener or the neighbors across the alley or God Almighty saw her hugging her intended by the window?
“Trevor, I understand that you feel obligated to protect me, Miss Brompton, her family, Phillip, and probably Jacques, too, but what do you want?”
He rested his cheek against her crown. “I want to be honorable. To be your honorable husband. To be Phillip’s honorable brother. To not be my father. I have retreated from his example as often and far as I possibly can, until…” He looped his arms around her shoulders and spoke near her ear. “I retreat, Amaryllis. That’s what I do.”
One did not argue with a man bent on self-castigation, not until he’d finished with his foolishness.
“You retreated to Crosspatch Corners?”
“Verily. That was my attempt to avoid the Season and the matchmaking. I retreated to the Continent for the same purpose and because nobody should vote his seat when he’s not even an adult. I retreated to public school when Papa and his tutors became more than I could stomach—Jeanette argued my case and packed my bags for me, bless her. I retreated to university and then from university when the venery and concerted masculine stupidity were too much. Right now, I want to retreat with you to France.”
“A fine notion. I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Be serious. I have no idea what Purvis would do to Phillip or the assorted other potential victims in my absence.”
And Trevor did not care that he would be first among those victims. Lissa turned her mind to the conundrum of how a good man could defeat an evil one without resorting to evil himself.
“You labor under a misconception,” she said slowly. “You believe that if something is unpleasant, it’s your duty to uncomplainingly put up with it until your tolerance is exhausted. Your father’s legacy, no doubt, but, Trevor, it’s not retreat to search in the direction of what has meaning for you or to abandon that which does not. You are entitled to pursue your own dreams. That, too, should rank as a worthy obligation.”
Hadn’t he told her the same thing, and wasn’t it fitting that she should give the words back to him when dreams were crumbling all around them?
“You have meaning for me,” he said, “and thus here I am, when I ought to be…” He heaved a sigh and moved away. “I don’t know what I ought to be. I needed to tell you what is afoot, and I need more time, and I have only a week.”
Lissa brushed his hair back from his brow. “Do you know what I miss most about my brother?”
A guarded look. “Brothers are not my long suit.”
He’d soon be an expert, if all went well. “Gavin is not on hand to jolly me past my blue devils. I have nobody to confer with when the steward wants to know whether to put a field in barley or oats. Nobody to make up a fourth when Mama and Grandmama are in the mood for a hand of whist, and Diana cannot be bothered. Gavin was my friend, and now he’s not there. A brother should be there.”
“You sound like Sycamore Dorning.”
“I like and respect Mr. Dorning, at least in small doses.”
Trevor went to the tray, fixed Lissa a cup of tea, and brought it to her. “As do I. He knows a few things about having and being a brother, whatever his other myriad shortcomings.”
Sycamore knew about being family, a challenge Trevor had limited experience navigating.
“Go to Berkshire,” Lissa said, sipping a perfect cup of China black. “Consult with Phillip. Discuss, argue, share a pint and a pie at the Arms. Purvis’s scheme has arguably affected him most of all. Your father has been gone for years, and Purvis kept you and your brother apart even after the old marquess’s death. Phillip might have questions about that. I’ll go with you, and Mama can be packed—”
“You cannot come with me. If Purvis learns we’ve traveled together, he’ll wreak no end of mischief. Can you instead convey developments to Sycamore and Jeanette?”
“I can.” The equivalent of lighting the Dorning signal tower. “Should I call on Miss Brompton?”
Trevor began to pace. “Good thought. If you could also look up Purvis’s sister. He claims she was ruined by my father, and if so, I owe her some sort of acknowledgment, some atonement.”
“After all these years?”
“Have you forgotten the ill usage you suffered in your earlier Seasons?”
“I haven’t forgotten, but I’ve certainly put it behind me. I’ll do as you ask, though. What else?”
Trevor came to a halt by the unlit hearth. “Call on Kettering and his lady. I have to make a stop there before I can leave for Berkshire, and I will warn him to expect you. He’s a powerful ally, has the ear of the Regent, and so forth. Even Purvis would hesitate to twist Worth Kettering’s tail.”
Purvis did not hesitate to ruin heirs, heiresses, and the occasional blameless marquess. “I will make that call.” She took another fortifying sip of tea. “Is there anything more I can do? Mama and Grandmama will want to help as well.”
Trevor remained by the hearth, his expression hard to read. “I love you. The words come easily when the moment is passionate, but right now, I am in the biggest muddle of my life, and I could not love you more. I love you, and I will always love you.”
Lissa saluted him with her tea cup, feeling exactly the same tide of emotion. “We are equal to this challenge, and we will not be bested. I love you too.” The moment did not call for fatuous beaming, but rather, for courage and determination.
Though some luck and hope wouldn’t have gone amiss either. A lot of luck and hope.
Trevor pushed Jacques to do the entire distance to Berkshire in little over half a day. The hours in the saddle were spent raging, fretting, missing Amaryllis, and pondering what was to come.
All to no avail. When Trevor paused at the foot of Lark’s Nest’s front steps to remove his spurs, he still had no idea what to say to… his brother.
“You’re back.” Phillip himself opened the door. He was attired in his usual worn homespun, cuffs turned, an ink stain on his right wrist. “I suppose you’d best come in. How is Lissa?”
“I left the DeWitt ladies well and thriving. You aren’t surprised to see me.”
Trevor passed over his hat and hung his spurs on a hook next to another worn pair that could have been their twin.
Phillip gave Trevor’s greatcoat a thorough swatting and hung it on another hook. “I waited years to see you, and then there you were. I landed in that awkward position of finally having what I’d wished for and having no damned idea what to do about it. Luncheon is on the sideboard, and the kitchen always prepares too much.”
Phillip strode off, leaving Trevor torn between amusement and consternation. So that was the great fraternal reunion? Oh, it’s you. Let’s eat?
He was hungry, and Phillip was being hospitable. Trevor followed, feeling every mile spent in the saddle.
“You knew who I was?” Trevor asked as they reached the breakfast parlor. In the early afternoon, no rising sun poured through the mullioned windows, but the view was still restful and the aroma of roast beef positively ambrosial.
“Help yourself,” Phillip said, passing Trevor a plate. “I did not know who you were, but I knew what you were.”
Trevor braced himself for some well-deserved insults. “What was I?”
“My brother. I have few memories of our mother, but I do recall her telling me on one of her last visits that I had an older brother. A lovely fellow, given name Trevor. He looked a lot like me, and someday, my brother would find me. She died, my brother never came. The old marquess died—let there be rejoicing in the land—and then Purvis presented himself and explained the terms of Papa’s will. Take more than that if you want to keep up your strength.”
Trevor added another slice of beef to his plate. “Purvis told me nothing about you until yesterday morning. He had no idea I’d come to Berkshire. I’ve been mucking about on the Continent for years, having a grand time, and generally trying to avoid becoming Lord Tavistock.”
He could admit that now, though the words still made him uncomfortable.
Phillip took up a plate and piled it high with beef and potatoes. “Purvis is a blight, worse than mildew on a garden crop, but he’s not stupid.”
Trevor set his plate on the table, which had only the one place setting. That lone assortment of cutlery tore at his heart.
Phillip opened a drawer to the sideboard and passed over knife, fork, spoon, and linen napkin. “Had I known you were coming, I’d have set out the good silver.”
The family seat in Surrey had a whole room devoted to storing silverware nobody had used in years. Another room stored elaborate sets of porcelain dishes. A third was reserved for elegant table linens.
“Do you have good silver?” Trevor asked.
“Good enough. Will ale do, or should I ring for wine?”
“I sorely missed English ale when I was on the Continent. Ale will do nicely.”
Trevor hadn’t known what to expect from Phillip. A door slammed in his face, a loud dressing down, simmering fury, demands for money… Those he could have anticipated. That Phillip could be so casual, so blasé about this first encounter as brothers was unnerving.
Then he noticed that Phillip was keeping his right hand from sight, tucking it behind him, using only his left hand to manage the plate, pour the ale, and pass over the cutlery.
“Tell me about your infirmity,” Trevor said, taking a seat to the right of Phillip’s place at the head of the table. “Purvis made it sound as if you were fit only for Bedlam. Had I not met you, his picture would have been as convincing as it was inaccurate.”
Phillip took his place at the head of the table, put his linen on his lap, and sipped his ale. “Granny Jones is my only source for the tale, but I’m told my birth was difficult. The marquess insisted that the midwives be pushed aside in favor of the more fashionable accoucheur. That good fellow got out his forceps and dragged me from the womb literally kicking and screaming. Granny claims the medical expert whom the marquess insisted on employing is the origin of my situation.”
“You were injured by the forceps?”
“Granny was present, said the damned fool nearly twisted my little head off, and from birth, my right shoulder hasn’t been the match of its twin. I don’t pretend to grasp the medical niceties. I only know that the strength in that arm was slow to develop and is still not the equal of my left. The nurses apparently made the situation worse by swaddling me excessively when nature might have been overcoming the problem for me, and that set me back yet further. Then I was mostly kept from sight, and thus other faculties—social abilities, speech—were also slow to develop. Eat your food before it gets cold.”
The beef was tender and thinly sliced, such that Phillip could manage with just a fork. How many other compromises and accommodations had he learned to make, all because the marquess’s word had been law even in the birthing room?
“I am sorry,” Trevor said, taking up his fork. “You have been mistreated as a result of factors well beyond your control.”
“I used to see it that way.” Phillip poured a thick gravy over his mashed potatoes. “Poor little fellow, no mama, papa disgusted by his own son, a reminder of my failings no closer than my right hand… but perhaps you are the one deserving of compassion.”
Of all the things Phillip might have said… “I am a bloody marquess. A dozen properties to my name, more in France and Germany, but don’t tell Purvis. I am in roaring good health and soon to be the toast of every hostess in Mayfair.”
“Who are your people, my lord?” Phillip posed the question to a forkful of steaming mashed potatoes. “The good folk of Crosspatch know me and would take up for me in a heartbeat, though as far as they are concerned, I have no title, no fortune. I’m simply another squire in thrall to his acres. They know not to expect me often at services and damned be to anybody who remarks that oddity.
“They trust me,” Phillip went on, “with their agricultural conundrums, which are legion. They bring me their sick and lame animals because I read pamphlets by the score and have acquired some veterinary expertise. I am valued here, I have a place, and a purpose, and one gorgeous property that is the envy of all who behold it. What do you have?”
“A very self-assured brother prone to lecturing his elders.” Trevor surprised himself with that retort, and he’d apparently pleased Phillip, who was grinning hugely.
“My elder, not my better. At least you grasp that much.”
Trevor tucked into his meal. “You are happy?”
“Content at least, and happy much of the time. I wish the mares were less coy about foaling, and a good wet spring always brings fears of rain at haying and drought in July.”
“You sound like half the vintners I met on the Continent. Doing what God put them on earth to do, but fretting like hens with one chick.”
“Lark’s Nest isn’t really mine,” Phillip said, piecing off more roast beef with the side of his fork. “I have a life estate as long as I’m a good boy.”
“Meaning as long as you stayed banished?”
“Purvis told you that?” Some of the bravado drained away from Phillip’s tone—and it had been bravado.
“Boasted of it. I hate him, Phillip. A gentleman isn’t supposed to hate, but that man… He has convinced himself that his crimes are justified by imaginary wrongs done to him or equally imaginary honors due him, and all the unearned coin he’s hoarding is simply his just deserts.”
