A Proper Scandal (Ravensdale Family Book 2) (39 page)

Then it did.

*

His office door swung open, knocking against the wall with a bang. “There’s a man here, Alex,” Headly said, bracing himself on one crutch. “And he won’t return tomorrow. He wants—”

“—the bastard my wife sired.” A man dressed in a top hat and cloak pushed past Headly, disgust filling the sinking planes of his aged face.

Alex flipped the letter opener between his fingers, weaving it in and out for a beat, then said, “Everyone out. Except you, of course.” He pointed the blade at the middle-aged man.

This is what happened when you avoided problems. They pushed into your safe haven at two in the morning when you were somewhat drunk and thoroughly out of sorts from losing the only woman you wanted in life.

He didn’t say anything, only stared at the man and his dull brown eyes.

“You have ignored my letters.” The man finally said, his hands in angry fists.

“I don’t fancy being blackmailed. I’m sure you understand.”

“A mouth just like your mother.”

“What do you want?” Alex asked, pushing past the underhanded insult. Alex remembered precisely what his mother sounded like—the taunting laugh, the indiscernible mumbling, the hellish screams. He had been there after all, to sit in the corner and watch her crumble into madness.

“Ah, a man of business. How far you’ve come…or are you still mad as a hatter?”

Alex tightened his fist below his chair, certain that he could prove to half of London downstairs that he was an excellent fighter when the time called for it. He would just love to deck the man before him, flat to the floor.

“I want your theater closed. I want you gone from London. I want my family name to remain unsullied from your connection. There are other children to consider.
My
legitimate children.”

“But if my mother was correct, then I am your legitimate son.”

The man scoffed. “Your mother lived for lying.”

Alex took a deep breath, his hands itching to hit the man. “I suppose you were the man who tried to turn away my investors.”

“Your association with that woman is unacceptable. She is no better than your mother.”

Maybe the world did implode then, because the world went black. When he came to, Alex had a fistful of the man’s shirt in his hand and they were nose to nose over his desk. “You have no right to speak of Miss Ravensdale as such. Or to close down my theater. Or to have any say over my life.”

“I thought you were dead. You were meant to be a secret.”

“You killed my mother; isn’t that enough?” Alex shoved the man to rest against the back of the chair and stood. And on a short breath, his voice dangerously low, he said, “And you almost killed me.”

The man appeared ruffled, his face red as he pulled to straighten himself. “That place was meant to kill you. You don’t deserve the air in your lungs.”

Alex ignored the man’s insults. They didn’t hurt like they once had. “I know a man in need of money when I see one.”

“The family needs money,” the man bristled.

“Family? You come to me trying blackmail, denying me as your flesh and blood, then demand money. I owe you nothing.”

At that, the man shot up. “I gave your mother everything and she got herself with child by some filthy mick who mooned over her. She told me the baby was mine, but I knew the truth. She deserved to be punished for her corrupted decisions. I refuse to have my reputation ruined because she was too weak-willed to keep to womanly morals. I was her husband. I was her husband, damn it!” he yelled.

Alex stared at him, the words sinking in. “What was his name?”

“He’s dead.”

“His name.” Alex stepped forward, backing the man up to the wall. When the man gave no answer, Alex grabbed him by the collar and hefted him against the wall with a satisfying thud. “This is what will happen. You will tell me my father’s name, then you will leave. If I see you here again or hear about your interference with my theater, be sure that I’ll see you ruined. I’m not that helpless secret you tried to kill off like a coward.”

The man flailed, knocking over a few items off the desk, rolling into the table. The gas lamp faltered, tipping and crashing to the floor.

Alex tightened his grip, the anger boiling below his surface. “And if you do anything to harm Miss Ravensdale, run. I know half of London’s secrets and they owe me favors. Very. Large. Favors.”

Air wheezed out of the man’s lips, his eyes rounded wide at Alex’s threat. Alex shoved him back into the wall again. A cackling roared through the office, a soft sound at Alex’s heels. He shoved the man against the wall again.

“Michael Rowan. He was a fucking poet, a fucking Paddy poet who couldn’t—”

Heat licked at Alex’s heels, the bright orange reflecting in the man’s beady black eyes. He didn’t loosen his grip as he turned, discovering a line of fire that caught across the carpet, climbing up the curtains by the window to lick the ceiling. Smoke began to billow and cloud things.

“He was what?” Alex demanded. “Headly! Fetch some water. Headly!”

“They’d been sweethearts. She tried to run away to marry him, but her father had insisted she marry me.”

“Is there a chance I’m your son?”

The man’s eyes widened as the fire cackled. “I admit to my mistakes. And if you’re my son, then you’re my heir. But I refuse to except you with a chance you might be a bastard.”

The fire swept across the bookcase, climbing up the walls now.

Alex looked at the man who was supposedly his father, then to the fire burning, consuming everything he had worked for. “Damn it. Get out! Get out now. I’m not done with you yet, but if you die, you’ll be no use to me.” He shoved the man toward the door. “Everyone, out!” Alex bellowed.

He held his forearm across his face as he ran back into his office. Black smoke clouded his vision, snaking its way into his lungs. He dove for his desk as the fire leaped, burning by the door, blocking his exit. He opened the door, grabbing the photo of Minnie and that piece of navy ribbon, tucking them into his shirt pocket, then grabbed what ledgers he could.

“Get out,” he yelled again, his voice caught off by the smoke in his throat. “Fire!”

He grabbed his jacket by his desk, then held it in front of him as he leapt through the flames by the door, shocked to discover the fire had already consumed the hallway. The building was going up like a box of matches.

Fire singed his arms but he stumbled forward, blindly searching the smoke-filled hallway. “Headly, Boyd, get everyone out.” If he could make it to balcony to oversee the rest of the floor he could be sure the players got to safety. The boxing ring was closed, so the basement should be cleared.

He tripped over a body, that of the man who saw to end Alex’s life before it began. “Wake up, you bastard,” he snarled, shaking the man.

But he didn’t move. Alex began to drag him, moving too slowly for the speed of the fire consuming his club. Then a burst of orange flames bloomed, exploding forward as a window shattered. The explosion knocked Alex to the ground. A smoking beam from above fell, crumbling and collapsing on top of him.

Christ
. The smoke filled his lungs, his eyes burning as he tried to push it off. “Wake up,” he shouted at the man. But his voice remained in his chest, the smoke robbing him of sound. He labored another breath, as the world began swimming around him. He kicked his legs, trying once more before something struck his head.

Heat wrapped around his body as he struggled to wake up.

“Alex.”

He fought to come to, angry at the wicked trick of her voice luring him. His siren. His Minnie. His heart.

M
innie woke alone her in her bedroom, left to stare at the well-appointed blue canopy above her head. Her throat was still raw, her eyes burned. Her heart was empty.

Her room was perfumed from vases of flowers crowding every table surface. Her nightstand was graced with medicine the doctors had prescribed, to be administered by a nurse. She remembered little else but Alex’s body on the floor as she searched for him at the club. She had gone to apologize and found the man she loved near dead, trying to saving a man from the club.

She tried to push herself up, wincing as the skin pulled, feeling as though she was coming apart like a doll worn at the seams. It wasn’t far from the truth; she looked like a mummy must, wrapped up in bandages from the burns, lathered in salve. Her head was cloudy, her mouth dry from the morphine. Minnie reached for the glass of water by her bedside table, then dropped it as her bedroom door clicked open.

Alex stood in the doorway, freshly shaven, smelling as if he had just taken a bath. One side of his face was a deep scarlet, covered with a coat of salve. He had an arm in a sling, his shirtsleeve rolled up to reveal thick bandages mirroring her own.

“Good, you’re awake.” His voice had a deep timbre, the usual lilt swallowed up to a rough cadence.

“You’re alive,” she answered. Minnie collapsed back into her pillows, cursing as the pain shot through her limbs as if she were back in those flames.

“Some stubborn girl saw to that. And when she’s well enough, she’s going answer why she was in my club in the first place.” He closed the door behind him, padding barefoot across her plush carpet. “You could have died, Min.”

“I thought you had. And I couldn’t—”

“Why were you there?” He bent down slowly, grabbing her glass and filling it with the pitcher from her bedside table.

She deserved his anger. She had been incredibly cruel and foolish. But to hear it ring so clearly in his pointed words was akin to a knife in the heart. She was his darling and he had never treated her like this before.

“I needed to speak to you,” she said, swallowing a sip, attempting to make room on the bed for Alex, too intimidated as he stood there beside her, bearing down on her as if he came to collect an apology and leave her life for good.

“There is nothing left to say.” Alex propped himself up against the bed’s edge.

“I needed—” Minnie stopped, sure that if she continued, she would fall to pieces and never get to what she wanted to say. “There is…there is something left to say. Something left for me to say anyway. I only ask that you listen, and then you can leave. If you must.”

“Leave? I’ve nothing left. The club is a total lost. The man who could have been my father didn’t survive the fire. He passed from the smoke in his lungs. And I sat in that hospital waiting for you to wake up. Damn it, why were you there? If I’d lost you too…” Alex threw his head back and sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “There is nothing—”

“I would like to ask…that is, I was hoping that you may have changed your mind.”

“Changed my mind?” Alex sat down on the bed, peering down at her with eyes full of fire. “Changed my mind?” He laughed roughly, clearly stricken by her words. “Have you changed yours?”

“Well, there is this hole in my life with you gone, and it’s uncomfortable.” She was doing a horrible job at persuading him. She reached her hand out toward him, horrified that he drew back, more aghast that his hand was wrapped up in bandages as well.

“You have your big success now. You’ve conquered the hearts of Europe. People fall at your feet and beg for autographs. And don’t think I haven’t heard about the absurd offers from your latest round of admirers.” That admission kindled a brief flicker of hope. “And you have quite a collection of pretty things now. You have your own home in London, furs, and dine at the best dinner parties. What more do you want?”

His hand finally moved forward, gently covering hers. “You’re quiet, Minnie. You came to the club to tell me something, I believe. What is it?”

“You haven’t given me the opportunity to speak,” she snapped.

“What more can you drain from me?”

Minnie trembled, pain filling her body. It might have been from the burns, but she thought this had a lot to do with her sweet Alex staring down at her, so close to walking out of her life. He was alive; he was alive and all she wanted in this moment was his lips on hers, to feel his arm wrapped around her. They had survived. They’d face the rest tomorrow. If only he wanted her.

“You look confused. Do I need to remind you?” He stretched out his hand and splayed his ink-stained fingers out to tick off. “I have gone hungry for you. I have been arrested for you. I have been shot for you. I have committed crimes for you. I have been shunned and gossiped about and slandered because of you, Minnie. My life is your life if only because you have shaped it as if you were Lady Fate herself. What more do you want of me?”

Minnie stared back, wide-eyed and speechless.

“Well?”

Her chance of happiness dangled before her. As each painful moment passed, she saw him slipping away. She could not move. And when she didn’t say anything, his shoulders settled into a firm line.

“What do you want, Minnie?” His voice was full of exhaustion. He avoided her stare, instead raking his hand through his hair. “Nothing?” he asked, arching his eyebrows. “Fine, I’ll fetch the nurse. They’ve been fussing that I’m here. I’m sure everyone will be happy to have me out of the way—”