A Proper Scandal (Ravensdale Family Book 2) (15 page)

“Nonsense.” He forced a smile of his own. She smiled for his sake, too. Alex was certain of it. “There is nothing we cannot weather.” He leaned closer, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around her.

“I want pretty things again,” Anne whispered into the dark.

Alex knew better. She didn’t just long for pretty things, she aired the regrets they both harbored. He let out a deep sigh. “This is a very pretty ribbon.”

She was so skilled at lies, now was time for one of his own. He would lie and be strong for her if that meant shouldering the burden of their foolish follies. He had survived far worse.

Alex tugged the navy satin ribbon from her hair. “Very soft,” he murmured. His fingers brushed against her neck and they both shivered in unison. “I wonder….” He slipped the ribbon over her eyes and tied it behind her head. “I wonder,” he whispered again, “what happens if you cannot see me?” Anne leaned into his touch. “Do you see pretty things now?”

Her breath hitched. Anne removed the ribbon away from her eyes with her bony fingers. “What do you want me to see?” Her voice shook.

He couldn’t tell the difference between the beating of his heart and the heavy breaths escaping Anne’s parted lips. “Whatever will make you happy.”

She smiled then, even with tears brimming in her hazel eyes. “Liar.”

Until now, he had behaved properly. Until now, he was the perfect gentleman when it came to protecting Anne Gibbons. Until now, he hadn’t thought much about kissing her…

Her cold lips pressed against his, sending an icy shock through his body, rooting Alex to the stage.

To share a kiss with her…well, it hadn’t killed him as he feared. The feel of her close was a comfort he hadn’t spent time dwelling on before. He hadn’t realized he needed it until she was there in his arms. Still he drew away, his lips hovering above hers in fear of what would become of him if they continued.

Anne’s hand rested on his cheek as the silence beat around them. He wanted more, but the loathing had already started to mount in the pit of his stomach.

Her fingers caressed his jaw in the way she explored everything in her life—with careful reverence. Her gentle touch made him believe for a small moment that miracles existed. Cupping his cheek, she slowly brought his gaze back to hers, his lips closer. She kissed him again, a quiet demand that broke through his disgust one small caress at a time, until he was kissing her back with sweet slowness.

With each breath, Anne sparked to life—her lips growing warmer under his, her skin thawing under the touch of his hands. Alex could bring her back from the brink of her melancholy. He could protect her if she allowed him to do so.

They stood onstage kissing in the dark and cold, washed in moonlight. Except it wasn’t cold anymore. Somehow, he was warm now. They weren’t penniless and hungry, either. With Anne in his arms, he thought himself rich and well-fed, kissing her beneath the warm sun.

Her hands cinched the tattered collar of his coat, her fingers darting over the edge now and then to steal a brushing touch of his neck. Her fluttering made him want to fold himself around her and share the little warmth he could offer. His hand slid back to cradle her head, her silky hair tangled with the navy ribbon, winding around his calloused fingers in a web.

Anne’s thin body pressed against his until her hands circled around his neck and held firm as if she were worried she would be ripped away. Anne was never one to show all of her cards, but she was doing so now. The way she touched him, the way she was leaning into him, her belief in him—wedged its way into a place he never knew he had the capacity to feel.

He failed in having winning fists, and he was a prized idiot for allowing any of this to happen. She had become skin and bones from fighting for her dream beside him in London. It made him sick with guilt. She deserved a proper meal and a warm bed. She deserved to be with people who loved her and could show that they cared for her. Not with someone broken.

The soft sound of her quickened breath was sweet to his ears as his lips travelled from her mouth to the tip of her nose. He would erase the traces of cold that lingered behind from the freezing London streets.

Alex sighed and closed his eyes, lowering his forehead to rest against hers. Why he ever robbed himself from the luxury of her warmth he would never understand.

On a gentle exhale, her lips brushed against the tip of his nose. “Well,” she said.

Those four letters hung between them, daring him to make sense of what just happened. His mind raced ahead as the words fell from his lips, his eyes still shut tight.

“Alex?” She placed her hand over his heart.

He couldn’t breathe. It was as if a parade marched over his chest. So instead of speaking, he wrapped his coat around her. Anne nestled against him and sighed so deeply it caused another uncomfortable fissure in his heart. The wetness of her quiet tears bled through his shirt. “Darling,” he whispered, his own voice choked. He pulled her closer and pressed a lingering kiss onto her forehead. If he could keep Anne Gibbons, he would do whatever it took to overcome his circumstances—London be warned.

I
n the morning, the nightmare hadn’t ended. Minnie woke up alone, cold, and painfully hungry in the shell of what was once a beautiful theater.

She sat up, wiping away the dust caked to the side of her face, and yawned, searching the theater’s darkness for some sign of Alex, but it was eerily quiet. Her stomach growled, a fitting reminder that she must make a goodbye she had secretly wished would never happen.

Her ballet slippers had fetched little, but it helped in posting Alex’s bail. It hadn’t been enough, but her name had been. She gave the address of Mrs. Bowen’s to the officer, thinking no further than having Alex back by her side. But it came with a price. Her uncle would be furious.

“Alex?” Her voice was eaten up by the disconcerting darkness. It wasn’t like him to leave without some word of his whereabouts. She pulled his off coat and frowned. He shouldn’t have left without his coat either. “Mr. Marwick?”

New feelings washed over her as she said his name aloud. They had kissed last night—kissed as if the world depended upon them kissing. She supposed hers had. The little warmth he offered kept her sane during the night, staving off more tears.

Pigeons pecked across the stage, fluttering in the rafters overhead as she stood.

So this was to be his? She couldn’t fight the smile that floated to her face. After so long, she had finally received some small glimpse of Alex and his mysterious desires. He fought hard without revealing what for—until now. It suited him to run a place such as this someday.

She twirled across the stage, pretending his arms were still wrapped around her as they had been last night. Minnie closed her eyes, wondering what he would be like as a dance partner. He would wear that smile and wink at her, his warm hand resting on the small of her back. Everything would fit into place as they waltzed around London ballrooms in each other’s arms. What a pretty future that would be. She stopped short in front of the torn theater curtain and whacked it with her hand, the dust clouding her eyes.

It was an impossible dream.

One had to grow up and recognize their mistakes in life. She had had a dream, and tried hard to obtain it, but she couldn’t stay behind and continue reaching for castles in the air with Alex. They would only continue to hurt each other and eventually, she would ruin him.

It broke her heart a little as her fingers ran over the nubby velvet. Returning home meant she would be scolded and set on a path that filled her with disgust, if they even thought her worthy of marriage now. There was a risk they would think her ruined and hide her away like some wicked secret, shipping her off to rot away in Yorkshire, or worse yet, that French convent.

With a sigh, Minnie walked to the center of the stage, breathing in the beautiful ruined dream one steady breath after another. She whispered his name, closing her eyes as it crossed her lips in a sort of prayer.

She could endure saying goodbye instead of fleeing. She owed Alex that much after everything he had given her.

She sauntered off the stage and crawled out into the dirty streets of London. As she rounded the corner, she thought to check the market for him until she spotted them—her uncle and his good friend, Isaac, Duke of Ashbornham—talking to a small child. He pointed his finger in Minnie’s direction and the world came crashing down.

She pulled back around the corner, panic coursing through her body. She was already running to the theater before she could think. She pushed through the barricade and crawled through the debris, scrambling up onto the stage to gather the few things she had left.

As Minnie lifted her bag, she saw a wad of money that hadn’t been there earlier. She shot up, searching the theater for Alex. He must have been around, but she couldn’t spare any time.

Suddenly, the one decision she thought was correct was the very opposite. Minnie wasn’t finished with her adventure. This was simply the beginning. She grabbed the money and stashed it in her bag, guilt weighing on her. They had been through so much, and now she felt as if she were betraying him. She laid his coat on the stage, and found a small slip of paper.

Alex,

I’m sorrier than you know. Seek out the Duchess of Ashbornham. I think she might have your answers, whatever it is you’re searching for.

With one last look, she peered over her shoulder. “Good luck,” she said quietly, searching the dark for the back exit of the theater. She found the door and pushed it open, feeling the thrill propel her forward into the unknown. If she could escape London, she could try for another future. She wasn’t prepared to let her dreams die just yet.

*

Alex stood at the foot of the aisle and paused, confused why only his coat was lying in the middle of the stage. When he left, she had been sound asleep. And before that, before he made a small fortune as a pickpocket early at dawn, she had been softly snoring beneath his coat.

“Anne?”

He drew his knife from his vest and cut a chunk of apple off, taking a bite as he stepped onto the stage. He dropped the small bag of bread and cheese at his feet.

Her things were gone.

Alex hung his head, tapping the butt of his knife against his forehead in a slow beat. The apple flesh in his mouth, sweet only moments ago, suddenly became bitter to swallow. “Of course,” he said, a dry laugh scraping his throat. It was always going to happen, wasn’t it? Why did he think he even deserved a woman like Anne?

“Missing someone?”

Alex stood tall, his fingers rolling a tight curl around the handle of his knife. This was all he needed. He’d be back in the asylum by nightfall, the world ripped from underneath his feet just as he regained some balance.

He couldn’t remember how it happened. One moment he was standing and the next he was on his back, the air crushed out of his lungs as a filthy boot stomped onto his chest.

“Where is she?” the stranger growled, hovering over him.

Alex coughed, tasting the blood swirl around his mouth from his split lip. When he didn’t answer, the boot crushed down against his ribs. Finally, on a wheeze he asked, “Who?”

Someone else strolled onto the stage, their steps marching in a confident cadence, and stopped by Alex’s head. “Can’t you see the boy is trying to answer, Bly? Perhaps if you allowed him some air?”

The man, Bly, didn’t seem to care. “Where is she?” he asked again.

Alex struggled to sit up, but was shoved back onto the floor.

“Look familiar?” the stranger asked, thrusting a faded photograph into his face. The knife against his throat was familiar, too. That’s how they had met those many months ago. “I was told you’re her husband. So tell me. Where is my niece, Minnie Ravensdale?”

Clever girl. Alex at least had been right about one thing.

“I don’t know.” Sunlight from above streamed in and hit the man’s face, revealing the same hazel eyes that had become familiar to Alex. The same ones that he had fallen for last evening. No, before that. Earlier. The day he had spotted her lost in the crowd and she was too prideful to admit it. “She wasn’t here when I returned just now.”

“Maybe we could continue without weapons?” the other man suggested.

“Shut up, Barnes,” Bly growled, not giving up his mission to crush Alex’s ribs one by one. “I want my niece back. You’re going to tell me where she is, then I’m going to see you shot for what you did to her.”

He hadn’t done anything to Anne except fail her. “We were never married.” As soon as he said it, Alex realized the truth was worse. He had ruined her without ever meaning to do so.

The man eased off of his chest, pulling the knife back, and then her picture. It was hard to ignore the tired look that washed over her uncle’s face or the impressive string of cursing. Alex was going to explain everything until he was hauled up onto his feet by the other man and Bly sent a steel-like fist into his stomach. There was no point in trying to wrestle free. It would be easier if they believed him. He wanted to know where she was, too. He wanted to say goodbye. Except that was a lie. He wanted Anne—no, Minnie now—for his own.