Of Fate and Phantoms (Ministry of Curiosities Book 7) Page 14

  "There's no need to wait up."

  I gave him an arched look. "I won't be able to sleep until I know you're home safely."

  He nodded. "I'll see you then."

  "Be careful, Lincoln."

  "I'll do my best."

  It was hardly a reassuring answer. He wasn't one for caring much about his personal safety, but I knew he couldn't promise me anything more. I might accept that fact, but I didn't have to like it. I wouldn't sleep until I saw him home, safe and sound, and Gus and Seth too.

  Supper with Alice was interrupted by Doyle.

  "You have a caller, miss," he intoned. "Mr. Buchanan."

  I groaned. "At this hour?" It was late for callers, but not too late, particularly for a cad like Andrew Buchanan. He slept until noon most days and stayed up most nights, gambling, attending parties, and probably making a general nuisance of himself.

  "If the fire's still burning in the parlor, I'll receive him in there," I told Doyle. "Will you serve drinks, please."

  "Of course. Would you also like me to stay?"

  "I'd appreciate it."

  "May I join you?" Alice asked. "I'd like to meet this fellow."

  "You'll want to scrub yourself clean after speaking to him," I warned her.

  "Now I definitely want to meet him, just to see what you mean." Her eyes sparkled with humor.

  I laughed and we walked arm in arm to the parlor.

  Chapter 9

  "Mr. Buchanan," I said smoothly. "This is a surprise."

  Andrew Buchanan spun around, bowed, lost his balance and almost tumbled over. He grabbed onto the back of a chair and steadied himself. Ugh. The man was drunk and it wasn't even nine-thirty. He tugged on his jacket hem and cleared his throat.

  I shook my head slightly at Doyle as he glanced up questioningly from where he stood at the sideboard. Instead of pouring drinks, he returned to the doorway and stood with his hands at his back.

  "Pleased to see you again, Miss Holloway." Buchanan may have been greeting me, but he didn't take his eyes off Alice.

  I made the introductions.

  "Everheart," he repeated. "I don't know any Everhearts."

  "You do now," Alice said.

  He smiled a charming smile that would disarm most women. Fortunately I knew Alice wasn't like most women. "You don't sound like a Londoner," he said.

  "I'm from Dorset."

  "Is that so? Dorset's a lovely county."

  "Oh? Which part have you been to?"

  "Er…" His fingers drummed on the back of the chair. "The seaside part."

  "All of it?"

  "Yes," he said emphatically. "All of it." He swayed a little, but quickly righted himself.

  "Perhaps you'd better sit down," I said, indicating the chair. "Did you come to see Mr. Fitzroy?"

  Buchanan sat in the chair by the fire. "Your butler said he's not here."

  "He's not."

  "Lucky for me because I get to see you two charming ladies instead." Anyone could be mistaken for thinking he only wanted to speak to Alice since he didn't look at me.

  Alice and I sat side by side on the sofa. "What did you wish to speak to Mr. Fitzroy about?" I asked, attempting to hurry him along.

  He waved a hand. "I'll get to that in a moment. Miss Everheart, tell me about yourself. How do you know Miss Holloway?"

  "We met recently," she said. Alice knew not to tell anyone about the School for Wayward Girls in Yorkshire where we'd met. The fewer people who knew where Lincoln had sent me, the better. One day I might need to find refuge there.

  "Yes, but where?" he pressed.

  "That's none of your affair," I said bluntly. Alice may be too polite to speak plainly to him, but I wasn't.

  Finally, he looked at me. His pupils didn't quite focus, but he saw me well enough through his drunken haze. His top lip lifted in a sneer. "So we're back to that, are we?"

  "I have no wish to quarrel with you, Mr. Buchanan."

  "Then don't. Not in front of your lovely friend, anyway." He flashed her a toothy smile.

  She didn't return it, but he didn't seem to notice. His smile didn't waver.

  "What do you want?" I asked.

  "Now, now, let's slow down and get to know one another, shall we? We've hardly spoken, really, not like this. With Fitzroy and his clowns absent, its a perfect opportunity to see if we can be friends."

  "We won't be friends."

  He pouted. "Why not?"

  "Friends don't arrive drunk at one another's houses—"

  "I beg to differ. The very best friends always turn up with a gullet full. It's a mark of…something. I forget what. Besides, I'm not drunk."

  "Then why are you swaying, slurring your words, and flirting with Alice?"

  He dug his fingernails into the armchair. "I'm neither swaying nor slurring. As to the question of flirting…" He flashed another grin at Alice. "I'm simply being friendly. If you don't know the difference, Miss Holloway, then it's most likely no one has ever flirted with you."

  Alice's breath hitched. She stared at Buchanan, her face a picture of shock. In her world, men didn't speak so cruelly to ladies. The only horrid words she'd probably heard in her life were those that fell from the lips of Mrs. Denk, our headmistress, and perhaps those of her parents when they'd sent her to the school.

  "On the contrary," I said breezily, unruffled by Buchanan's poor manners. "Mr. Fitzroy has flirted with me on several occasions. For instance, just yesterday he allowed me to punch him in the stomach. He doesn't let just anyone do that."

  His jaw dropped open.

  "It was rather sweet," I went on. "He tensed, of course, and I felt like I was hitting a brick wall, but it was a very flirtatious offer. Don't you agree?"

  He shook his head over and over. "The man's courting rituals are unusual. It's no wonder he's not yet married."

  "But he does have extraordinary luck with women," I added, wanting to bite off my own tongue and yet also wanting to see my barb hit. Lincoln and Lady Harcourt had been intimate before he met me, and Buchanan had feelings for her. It must gall him that she still cared for Lincoln, and yet seemed to have no interest in her stepson.

  Their complicated relationship always made me feel cold and a little revolted. Not because they had been intimate before Lady Harcourt married Buchanan's father, but because they seemed to want to hurt one another. I wasn't sure if they still shared a bed, or just a house, and I didn't want to know.

  The muscles in Buchanan's face twitched. The veins in his throat throbbed above his collar. I thought he'd shout at me, perhaps leap out of the chair and threaten me, but he did not. He barked out a laugh.

  "I wish I knew his secret," he said simply. "Well, since we've stripped away all polite façades, let me get to the point of my visit."

  "Please do."

  "I'm glad it's you here, actually, and not Fitzroy."

  "Why?"

  "Because I find him intimidating to speak to, Miss Holloway. I also think he'd refuse my request before I even finished speaking it."

  "And you think I'm more likely to listen?"

  "Oh, I know you are. Do you want to know why?"

  "Please enlighten me."

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Because you feel sorry for me."

  I burst out laughing.

  He sat back with a pout on his lips. After a moment, he recovered himself and attempted another smile. "Very well, let's just say that you're intrigued. You're far more curious than Fitzroy. He wouldn't care why I was here. You, however, want to know."

  I nodded. "You have me there. Go on, then. What is it you want?"

  "I'll speak to you alone."

  "Thank you, Doyle, that will be all."

  Doyle left quietly and shut the door.

  "And the lovely Miss Everheart too." Buchanan lurched to his feet and held out his hand to Alice.

  She looked to me.

  "She stays," I said to Buchanan.

  "Not if you want to hear what I have to say."
When I didn't move or ask her to leave, he added, "Oh, come now. What harm am I going to cause you in here alone? For one thing, you're a quick little whippet and could probably dart away from me in my present state. For another, I'm afraid of Fitzroy. And finally, if I'm going to ravish anyone here tonight, it'll be your friend." He winked at Alice.

  Alice made a sound of disgust in her throat. "I'm not leaving you alone with him," she told me.

  "It's all right," I assured her. "He doesn't mean it. Besides, he knows Lincoln would kill him in the most painful way imaginable if anything happened to me. Either that or castrate him."

  Buchanan winced. "You do have a way with words."

  "Are you sure?" Alice asked me.

  I nodded. "I'll be fine."

  "I'll be just outside. Call if you need me."

  "You can wait with Doyle, and probably Cook. I'm sure they're both hovering, most likely with one of Cook's kitchen knives. While you wait, you should ask him to show you how to throw them. He's an excellent knife thrower, as it happens. Very accurate." I smiled at Buchanan.

  He sneered again. "Most amusing, Miss Holloway."

  Alice left, but not before opening the door wide enough so we could both see Doyle and Cook who were indeed hovering. Cook made a great show of wiping a very large meat cleaver on his apron.

  "You have the most remarkable staff," Buchanan said, helping himself to the brandy.

  "What do you want?" I snapped.

  He sat down heavily, sloshing the brandy around the glass, but not spilling any. "I want your help with Julia. I want you to invite her to things."

  I cocked my head. "Invite her to what? We don't have dinners or parties here, and if we do, it's usually because the committee members have invited themselves. She's part of the committee. So really, what more do you require of us?"

  "I require…" He let out a breath and set his brandy down, untouched. With nothing to hold, his hands became animated. He placed them loosely together and pointed them at me. I was reminded of the parishioners in my adoptive father's church, praying, and of the beggars in the street, imploring passersby for food. "I need you to be kind to her now. To be a friend to her."

  "You ask too much."

  "Please, Charlie," he said, using my Christian name for the first time since arriving. "Just make her feel wanted. Let her know that she isn't alone in the world." I'd never seen Buchanan look so earnest. He'd been here when the general created havoc before Christmas, and he'd actually been of use that night. But he hadn't behaved like this. I felt like I was seeing the real Buchanan, the man he used to be before Lady Harcourt broke his heart all those years ago.

  "Why can't you make her feel special?" I asked. "You're family, after all. She isn't alone when she has you and your brother."

  A shadow passed across his eyes and he slumped back in the chair. "It's not the same. There's familial obligation, and then there's voluntary friendship."

  "I'd wager your friendship is voluntary."

  His jaw hardened. "She won't accept my friendship," he bit off. "She loathes me despite…" He jerked his head to the side and stared into the fire. "Despite everything we are to one another. Yes, Charlie, are. It's not over."

  Well, that was more information than I expected.

  "Sometimes she wants it to end, until I convince her otherwise." He nibbled his thumbnail, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the chair arm. "I know you think what we have is sordid. Perhaps it is. Perhaps neither of us knows how to love properly and this is our twisted way of showing that we care. Or perhaps we should both be committed to an asylum." His fingers stopped drumming but he continued to stare at the glowing coals. "The thing is, it's not enough for her. What we have…she wants something else. Something more. Someone more." His head jerked back to face me. "Do you understand?"

  I flinched at the hollow, haunted look in his eyes. "I think so. She wants a husband, but only if he's titled or rich, or both." Seth had said as much about Lady Harcourt. He'd been intimate with her, although she'd never professed to love him like she loved Lincoln.

  "You're an astute judge of character for one so young." He no longer slurred his words, but the familiar lazy drawl was back, as if he couldn't be bothered to even open his mouth. "So you'll help her get back on her feet, so to speak?"

  I considered my answer carefully. "As I said, we don't host dinner parties."

  "But you do get invited to some. Perhaps mention her name and secure an invitation for her too."

  "She seems quite capable of securing her own invitations, despite the gossip. She was at the Hothfields' masked ball, for instance."

  His face twitched again, as if the muscles danced of their own accord. "She was, and she made a fool of herself."

  "That must have been after we left. What did she do?"

  "She gambled it all on the prince and lost. She did pick up the consolation prize of one of his friends, however, a rather smarmy member of parliament by the name of Swinburn." He pulled a face. "Upstart," he spat. "He's in shipping, of all things."

  I remembered Seth mentioning him after the New Year's Eve ball. "He's not titled?"

  "He's a nobody."

  "Does it matter, if he's rich? He must have some influence with the prince if they're friends."

  "You don't understand, Charlie. Swinburn is hardly even a gentleman. His grandfather was a sailor. His father began the shipping firm but it was only modest in size by the time he died. Swinburn built it into the empire it is today."

  "My God, how beastly of him!"

  He rolled his eyes. "You're not amusing, you know."

  "So he's a self-made man. Is that all you have against him?"

  "No. I have…a feeling. He drinks, gambles, and treats women abominably, discarding them after he's had his fill." He downed his brandy in a single gulp. "I'd wager he's quite without morals, although he can be charming enough to one's face."

  "He sounds a lot like someone I know."

  Half his face lifted in a smirk. "Perhaps it takes one to know one. The thing is, Charlie, it's all right for someone my age to gad about, but not a fellow of his age. He must be mid-forties, at least."

  "If you're worried that Lady Harcourt will lose her heart to him, then why not tell her your concerns? I'm sure she'll appreciate you worrying about her."

  "I doubt it," he mumbled. "She'll accuse me of having an ulterior motive."

  "Don't you?"

  His gaze slipped away. He pushed himself out of the chair and sauntered to the sideboard. I was faster, however, and got there before him. "You've had enough to drink."

  "Come, now, Charlie," he slurred, a bitter smile on his lips. "I have to drown my guilty conscience or it'll drown me."

  I narrowed my gaze. A sick feeling settled into my stomach. "What do you have to be guilty about?"

  He sniffed and stared down into his empty glass. "Can't you guess?"

  "Yes," I whispered, horrified. "I think I can."

  His gaze lifted to mine. It was filled with remorse, all the usual arrogance stripped away.

  "You notified the newspapers about her past, didn't you?" I said. "It was you who told the reporters she used to be a dancer at the Alhambra."

  He lifted one shoulder then nudged me aside. I lost my balance but caught on to the sideboard and recovered. I let him help himself to another brandy as I digested his confession. This man, who professed to love Lady H and seemed to care for her, had betrayed her in the worst possible way. Her reputation was everything to her. She'd buried her past as thoroughly as she could, only to have the man closest to her dig it up and tell the entire world. I'd never felt sorry for her—until now.

  I watched him pour himself a brandy, drink it in one gulp then slam the glass down on the sideboard. By some miracle, it didn't shatter.

  "Go on, then," he said with a detachment that I didn't believe. He cared far more than he was letting on. "Tell me what you think of me."

  I shook my head. "You regret it. That's something, at least."


  He blinked a slow, drunken blink. "I wish you weren't so god damned noble."

  It struck me that his plea to invite Lady Harcourt was a ruse, a vehicle to allow him to confess. "Did you come here to unburden yourself? To somehow assuage your guilt?"

  "Nothing can assuage my guilt. But I had to tell someone my dirty little secret or I'd go mad."

  "Why me?"

  "Every man must have a confessor, and I've decided that you're mine. Don't look at me like that, Charlie. Who else have I got? Aside from Julia and Douglas, you're the only one knows all my faults."

  "Why not tell your brother then?"

  "He's a self-righteous cock and would lecture me until I knocked all his teeth out. You're not so bad. In fact, I even like you."

  I reached for a glass and poured myself a brandy. He snickered as I sipped. "Let's be clear, Mr. Buchanan."

  "Call me Andrew."

  "No. Let's be clear—we are not friends."

  He held up his hands in surrender. "I abhor friendship. It comes with expectations that I'm not prepared to meet."

  "I am not someone you can tell all your disgusting secrets to. I don't want to know them. This one was quite enough, thank you."

  "Oh. Pity." He pouted. "I feel better already for telling you."

  "You shouldn't. You did a despicable thing."

  "Yes, but let's be honest, she's a despicable person. Doesn't that cancel out what I did?"

  The man was truly awful. How could I have ever thought he might have been a nice person before Lady Harcourt destroyed his innocence? I doubted he was ever an innocent. "I think you ought to leave now."

  "If you insist. But you will consider my request, won't you?"

  I blanched. "You were serious about me asking her to parties where she'll meet other gentlemen?"

  "Of course."

  "But why do you want to do that? Is it simply because you feel guilty?"

  He screwed his eyes shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose. When he pulled his hand away and opened his eyes, he suddenly looked much older than his early twenties. "What I want is to extract Julia from Swinburn's clutches and place her into those of a man less likely to discard her. She wants marriage, but Swinburn won't marry her. If she must hitch herself to the marriage wagon again, then I want her wedded to some dull, dusty old lord she can't possibly fall in love with. Swinburn's got swagger. He's got charm and is influential, not to mention he has the prince's ear and leads an exciting life. That's the sort of man Julia could fall in love with. That, Charlie, is a nightmare I'd like to see avoided."