A Question for Harry (37 page)

Chapter Forty-One

From the correspondence of the Earl of Glenrothes

to James MacKintosh
– June 1895

I will tell you, Jamie, I’ve never seen a man take his comeuppance with such delight. Aylesbury is a braw fighter. He took us all on, one after the other until he was hardly able to stand but still he took a fair piece out of some of the lads in the process.

I tell you, I never thought I would meet anyone who I thought would be a true match for our Heather Blossom.

Aylesbury, England

A week later

“The bruises are fading nicely,” Fiona said lightly, looking at Aylesbury’s battered face with a grimace noting the fading bruises here and there that he had gained for what had essentially been her choice when all was said and done. Still, her brothers had acted as if he were the only perpetrator. “You are almost handsome again. I hope they didn’t hurt you too badly.”

“Are you worried for me now?” Aylesbury
teased, since it was not the first time she had asked. He covered her hand where it rested on his arm, his thumb brushing over her knuckles affectionately. “If you had been, you never would have left me as you did to face them on my own.”

“I know
… I couldn’t,” she stammered with a blush. “I was just too humiliated at the thought of them knowing.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” Her firm response pleased him. “But since you so respectfully paid your dues like a man to each and every one of them for our indiscretion, they – one and all – consider us as good as engaged.”

“Do you?”

“It’s hard to say, really.”

A week had passed
. Fiona still hadn’t said yes or no but still wore his ring on her right hand. However, her brothers were indeed acting as if her engagement were a given thing, considering the circumstances. Aylesbury hadn’t mentioned it again, keeping his vow not to press or ask again. But she was thinking about it, he knew. He could see the consideration shadowing her eyes, though whether she was swayed one way or the other, he had no idea.

Love wasn’t the issue
. Aylesbury had no doubts Fiona loved him still. Perhaps had even forgiven him for the thoughtless bastard he had been. He believed it was her trust in him, that he wouldn’t hurt her again that was in question. He didn’t know what else he could say or do to prove himself in that regard, however.  If she decided against him, Aylesbury had no doubt Glenrothes would let her have her way despite what had happened between them.

Of course, Glenrothes had made sure that it wouldn’t happen again.

Whenever Aylesbury saw her, which was every day, they were always chaperoned. It had nothing to do with Ramsay any longer. They had hunted him down and turned him over to the police – after a fair beating, of course. Charges were being filed and warrants issued for Ramsay’s lackeys. Bodyguards had been hired to protect her, and at least a pair of brothers followed Fiona wherever she went.

The extra constraints had Fiona chomping at the bit, he knew
. She was anxious to have the matter over and done with. To have time for herself or for them. Understandably she chafed as much as he against that particular condition. With the horse already escaped from the barn, so to speak, Fiona had been first amused and then annoyed by her brothers’ protectiveness. Fiona wasn’t the only MacKintosh who seemed to have trouble trusting Aylesbury these days.

If her brothers only knew how untrustworthy Aylesbury was when it came to keeping his hands off
their sister, no doubt he’d have to take them all on again – though they probably wouldn’t be so kind as to queue up one at a time if they knew he snuck into her room each night with Hobbes’ assistance. It would be worth it. “If I keep sleeping in your bed rather than my own, you might find yourself married, willing or not.”

Fiona flushed again
. “Harry, stop!”

“Oh
, that reminds me.”

“I daresay I should be rather afraid of what that reminded you of
, that you would dare mention on a public street,” she said dryly.

“Pembrooke gave me some hairpins this morning,” Ayelsbury teased
. “Said one of the maids found them under the cushions of the sofa in the parlor.”

Fiona’s face blossomed like a rose
. “I will never be able to face them again.”

“Nonsense,” he assured her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear with a light caress to her jawline
. “They will love you because I love you so completely.”

“God help you,” she whispered, watching the sunlight set the diamond
in her alive.

“Yes,” he chuckled, lifting her hand to his lips
. “God help me, my dear.”

Their eyes met and Aylesbury wished they were somewhere more private so that
he could kiss her properly. Despite their secluded nights, privacy had been a rare commodity of late.

With Fiona’s brothers
’ constant watch upon them, Aylesbury had taken – outwardly at least – to courting her properly: taking her to dine at the Ritz, to the Empire again so they might see Acre’s entire film without interruption. They even went to see Mr. Sousa’s band play one night. All of it under the watchful eye of brother and bodyguard. All of it to insure that her answer to his unspoken question would be yes … eventually.

Today he had invited Fiona to play a round of golf with him at the Aylesbury Parkland Golf
Club near his ancestral estate, Dinton Grange. The course had recently opened a newly designed eighteen-hole long course to pair with the original nine-hole short course. His father had been a founding member of the private club though he had made more use of the clubhouse than the course itself. Aylesbury had used his influence to gain a special exception for Fiona to play there, since the club did not normally allow female golfers.

Her brothers, Connor and Colin
, had come along as their requisite chaperones. They’d played the eighteen together before Aylesbury suggested a break for tea at the clubhouse. Fiona had accepted, but her brothers had opted to play a round on the short course before they all retired to Aylesbury for dinner then returned to London.

The club’s manager had other
thoughts on the matter. The golf club might have allowed a woman onto their greens but they had stood firm in their resolve to bar a female skirt from their hallowed clubhouse.

Tea would have to be taken elsewhere.

Rather than troubling his estate staff by arriving before they were expected, he’d had his coachman drop them in Aylesbury proper to take tea at one of the charming teahouses in town. Aylesbury had been happy enough to leave their shadows back on the fairways, sending his carriage back to the golf club to wait on the brothers and leaving him with an afternoon alone with Fiona … and a bodyguard who was warned to keep his distance under pain of death.

This was Aylesbury
. His town, his people. Far removed from London. He intended to fully enjoy the day. Aylesbury pressed another kiss to Fiona’s hand as they wandered the streets of Aylesbury township.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather play another round with your brothers
?” Aylesbury asked, but only because he felt he must.

“I am more than happy to take tea with you instead.” Fiona grinned up at him mischievously. “Besides, do you think you could have taken the punishment for another round?”

“From you
r brothers?” he asked with a grin, feeling happier than he had in a long while.

Gasping in mock outrage, Fiona bumped her shoulder against his
.

“Oh, from you?” he teased as if he had just guessed her meaning
. “Not at all. I enjoy watching you play … whether I win or…”

Words fading away, Aylesbury’s head turned with a frown and Fiona followed his eyes to a pair of
simply dressed women emerging from a small bodega across the street.
Fiona recognized the look all too well.
“Somehow I gather you aren’t suddenly in the mood for a bottle of wine,” she said lightly. “Should I be jealous?”

A half-smile turned the corner of his mouth as he glanced back down at her but just as quickly his glance slid back to the young women
. “I know I’m a fool … to think…”

“Harry?”

“Piper,” he whispered
, his gaze caught as if he had seen a ghost. She eyed the younger of the two women more thoroughly. Even from the distance, Fiona could see that she was about the right age, tall and slim, but her hair was up and hidden by a wide-brimmed hat that also shaded her face.

“
Oh, Harry, it’s not,” Fiona told him, squeezing his arm sympathetically. Her heart ached for him.  “I’m sorry. For your sake, you know I wish…”

“My God, i
t’s her.”

“It’s just wishful thinking, Harry,” she persisted
, but he was already gone, a London aristocrat running in long strides through Aylesbury. “Piper!” Fiona heard him call. “Piper, stop!”

“Harry!” Fiona called after him
in vain then shook her head. “Won’t you ever accept the truth?”

It was a silly question
. Harry Brudenall the man and marquis was probably logical enough to realize that his sister wouldn’t just be walking freely about town. But Harry, the brother, the optimist, would always continue to hope. She could only hope, for his own sanity, he discovered the truth of what happened to Piper one day.

“
Why hello, darling!”

Chapter Forty-Two

From the Diary of Lady Fiona MacKintosh – Jun 1895

Ramsay had better fear my wrath if I ever chance to meet him again. Because of his foolishness I have become a veritable prisoner in my own home. I’m not allowed to step even a toe across the threshold without at least two of my brothers tagging along.

And if it weren’t for the nights, I would have Harry to myself either
.

The frigid joviality of the greeting drenched Fiona in dread, and she reluctantly turned with some hope of her own that what she knew to be true might not be. Like Harry, it seemed she was doomed to disappointment. A knot formed in her throat and Fiona almost choked trying to swallow it back. “Lord Ramsay.”

Yes, it was he
, though Ramsay was almost unrecognizable under the bruises on his jaw, swollen nose, and blackened eye. Her brothers had truly done a job on him. A far more thorough one than Aylesbury had been treated to … or rather, Aylesbury had defended himself better.

But not enough of one, it seemed
. How had he escaped the authorities? When? What was he doing here in Aylesbury? How long had he been following her? Had he never stopped?

“
Haven’t you had enough?” Thankfully her voice was calm, disdainful even. “You can’t think to have your plan succeed now. I won’t marry you, you have to know that. Even if you forced me, my brothers and Aylesbury would make me a widow before the ink was dry in the register.”

“But darling, who says I want to marry you any longer?” he sneered, his lip curling
. “I have other plans for you now. I’m going to make you pay dearly for what you’ve put me through, Fiona. I will show you every ounce of pain that was dealt me.”

He reached for her,
but Fiona danced back. “I’ll cut off every finger that touches me. I’m warning you!”

Still,
his hand clasping hard over her arm, his fingers digging in with bruising strength. Yanking her toward him until they were practically nose-to-nose, he added with a snarl of hatred, “I intend to leave this behind with every part of me intact. You might not be so lucky. When I am done with you, I will make your brothers pay as well.”

Two men leapt down
from the driver’s perch of a carriage not far away, one sporting two black eyes and carrying a cudgel Fiona recognized all too well. He didn’t look any happier to see her than see was to see him. “’Ello, poppet.”

“Harry!” she parted her lips to scream his name but it emerged choked, almost silenced by the sudden fear that gripped her
, fear that Ramsay alone hadn’t been able to inspire. From the look in Crumpky’s eye, Ramsay wasn’t the only one who wanted vengeance.

Ramsay threw back his head and laughed devilishly at her
shock. The sound of it was so maniacal, Fiona feared he truly had gone insane and felt real panic churning in her gut. Then Ramsay pulled an all too familiar looking piece of white cloth from his pocket and Fiona recalled vividly the sick, sweet smell. The darkness and the loss of her ability to fight back. It was enough for her to find her voice.

“Harry!”

Aylesbury skidded to a halt when heard Fiona call his name but oddly enough the young woman he had been chasing heard it as well, looking curiously over her shoulder. Her eyes locked with his and even from the distance Aylesbury could identify the vibrant blue, so much like his own. “Piper,” he whispered and shook his head in disbelief. All the times he had thought he had seen her only to be disappointed, Aylesbury realized he had never expected to find her at all. Was it his imagination now or was it really her after all this time? He took another step toward her.

“HARRY!”

The terror in Fiona’s scream was unlike anything he’d ever thought to hear from her. Fiona was no coward. No, if anything she was incessantly confident. That she would ever scream like that…

Aylesbury whipped around to see Fiona
being half-dragged, half-carried away by Ramsay, struggling with all she was worth. There was only the briefest flash of indecisiveness. Casting a regretful glance at what may have been his sister now walking away from him, Aylesbury ran back the way he had come.

Back to Fiona.

Fiona was striking Ramsay repeatedly with her free hand, landing some impressive blows while she rained a stream of even more impressive curses down on her kidnapper as Aylesbury sprinted to her aid. To his disgust, there were a few high-class bystanders nearby gawking at the spectacle but none of them seemed inclined to come to her aid.

“Let her go, Ramsay!” he yelled as he neared
. “You won’t get away with this!”

Ramsay paused to look back over his shoulder before he waved a hand, signaling
to the two other men Aylesbury had failed to notice. Ramsay’s henchmen. Aylesbury recognized them both. The smaller fellow with the bandaged ear was the one who had tried to take Fiona from Wimbledon. The other, slapping a cudgel against the palm of his hand, Aylesbury had even a closer acquaintance of. Old Crumpky. Surely he would be looking for his ounce of revenge.

Aylesbury cursed the fact that he wasn’t carrying a weapon with him
. No, he had left his pistol in the carriage, sure that he had nothing to fear in his hometown. There was no other choice but to fight for her.

The golf course hatchet was grinning now, flexing his fingers in an age-old invitation to fight and Aylesbury wasn’t about to disappoint
. Rather than slowing as he neared the pair, Aylesbury ran even faster, lowering his shoulder and tackling the man around the midsection before his eyes could even round with surprise.

Knowing he had only seconds before
Ramsay’s other lackey would be upon him with that wicked cudgel, Aylesbury wrapped his hands around his prey's head, lifting it and sending it forcefully back down to the pavement before he rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the assault being aimed at the back of his head by Crumpky.

The momentum the
bludgeon-wielding brute carried with the blow wasn’t to be denied. Without Aylesbury’s head to halt its course, the club continued downward, striking the dazed, supine man moaning on the sidewalk in the sternum and nearly taking Crumpky right off his feet. The smaller man groaned in pain as both Aylesbury and Crumpky jumped to their feet, facing each other, each with a reason to be wary of the other. The thug had a weapon on his side, but Aylesbury possessed the confidence of a victory already won between them.

Risking a moment to check on Fiona, Aylesbury found her fighting admirably against Ramsay who was trying to throw her his shoulder with little success
. Her brothers had taught her well, he thought proudly.

Grinning, Aylesbury turned back to his own fight, using his
previous experience with the henchman’s preference to swing with his right to throw out a left uppercut followed by a quick jab, then another and another, forcing Crumpky to do little more than block Aylesbury’s blows over and over. Aylesbury changed it up then, taking the man off guard with a powerful right hook that sent him stumbling back. Crumpky staggered dizzily, tripping over his still-prone cohort and falling to the ground. He didn’t rise right away but tossed away the cudgel and began searching his pockets angrily.

Bloo
dy hell, Aylesbury realized. The fiend was armed with something more deadly than a billy club.

“Come, Fiona,” he urged,
rushing to her side. “Time to go now.”

“Just
…a …” Fiona doubled up her fist and hit Ramsay hard in the throat, leaving him gasping for air. “…moment,” she finished, digging her thumb into his blackened eye socket until he dropped her. Fast as lightning, she brought up her knee, taking Ramsay hard between the legs.

He curled
over his groin with a hoarse cry, but Aylesbury didn’t leave Fiona a moment to gloat over her victim. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her away. “Let’s go now.”

Fiona nodded and let him lead her away, running hand in hand down the street
. Casting a glance back over her shoulder, she shook her head with a snort of dismay. “I hate to be an alarmist, Harry, but they are following.”

Aylesbury looked back as well to see Ramsay and the
once cudgel-wielding but now lamentably gun-toting brute stumbling after them while the third man struggled to his feet. He was just about to look away when he realized that the two men in pursuit weren’t running after them at all but … “Bugger it. They’ve got a horse,” he muttered grimly.

Fiona winced
, but nodded. “And a carriage as well.”

Of course they did, Aylesbury grimaced
. They would have had a way to transport Fiona when they took her. If the two men pursued them on horseback, Aylesbury knew he would have no chance of out-running them and getting Fiona to safety. His only choice would be to take them on as he had before and while he was fairly certain he could take them, Aylesbury knew he could not risk Fiona’s welfare if he were to fail.

Scrambling for a solution,
he took note of the numerous conveyances on the road. The hackneys, Hansom cabs or coachmen-driven carriages wouldn’t do. He dismissed the possibilities there straight away. Their pursuers would be on them before Aylesbury might either pay off or dispose of the driver. A dilapidated produce wagon pulled by a sway-backed nag wouldn’t carry them any faster than their own feet.

Aylesbury saw the
ir opportunity then. A spindle-wheeled phaeton parked on their side of the street, its dandified driver on the sidewalk handing down a fashionably dressed lady.

Tugging Fiona behind him,
he accelerated. “There,” he pointed. “That one.”

His clever girl knew what he was about right off and followed him willingly enough, though Fiona being Fiona, she couldn’t help but offer her opinion
. “The team is facing this way. We’ll be heading the wrong direction.”

Yes, they would be running straight on toward Ramsay and his henchmen, but it was their only chance
. “You ready to jump?”

Fiona nodded and they skidde
d to a halt next to the phaeton. In a fluid motion, Fiona used her momentum, turning and pushing off from his shoulders while he grasped her around the waist and tossed her up into the lofty vehicle. Aylesbury leapt up after her, ignoring the outraged protests of its owner. Gathering up the reins, he whipped the horses into motion. As he expected, the pair of spirited high-steppers pulling the fashionable conveyance were more than eager for a run.

They
leapt into motion, throwing him and Fiona back against the seat as they charged forward, propelling Aylesbury and Fiona back the way they had come. Crumpky on horseback was already reining in and preparing to turn in pursuit, but the carriage at least, with Ramsay at the reins, would be slower to change directions.

He hoped, Aylesbury thought, f
licking the whip over the horses’ backs as they sped past horse, carriage and their cohort standing at the curb, rubbing both his head and chest. Down the street they streaked, weaving the phaeton through the traffic to the shouts and protests of the few drivers around them.

The bodyguard Glenrothes had hired stood on the sidewalk with an ice cream in his hand and gaping incredulity on his face
as they sped past, leaving him behind.