A Proper Scandal (Ravensdale Family Book 2) (12 page)

Chips were mounded high in her cupped hands as she smiled at him, her eyes wide and bright as if they had just robbed the Tower of London. “Darling? You’re going to be civil now, Alex?”

For just a moment, his lips curled into the perfect imitation of a smile.

*

Summer breezed by in a flurry of hot days at the iron factory and hotter nights stuck in the attic on the floor, sleeping beside Anne. But the wind change was coming. The weather cooled and the damp London showers returned, and soon summer was autumn, and Anne was still somehow in his life.

What a strange, sad girl she was. He caught her dancing when she didn’t think he was watching. He loved watching the grace in her arms as she bent and twisted and softly leapt through the air. And just as suddenly, upon landing, she’d be a girl of fire again—heroically burning down the world around her in pursuit of her dream.

But he had heard her crying herself to sleep last night, a letter clutched in her hand. And that horrible pain in his chest had returned, and he wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her forehead. He wanted to say they right words to make the hurt go away. Instead he was silent, too unsettled say or do anything.

Alex squinted, his finger pointed beneath the string of inky letters. “L-A-D-Y.”
Lady.

The door opened and Anne entered, her hair windblown, her face drawn. He held his breath as she walked right by the barre he fashioned her from a piece of scrap he found in an alley by the factory. Anne stopped by the foot of the bed instead. “Hello.” She didn’t wait for his reply, only dumped her things onto the floor and escaped behind the curtain in the corner.

Alex drummed his fingers over the tabletop, looking out onto the street below. It was close to dark, so there wasn’t much to see. That was the problem with autumn. It grew darker quickly and soon half the day was night.

He heard her open the curtain from behind, then the soft intake of breath. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice shaking.

Alex spun in his chair to observe her. Sometime between last evening and the present, she had misplaced her annoying personality for that of a meek mouse. He ducked back behind the paper to avoid the way she looked at him, the way her eyes were rimmed with red.

“I thought it could be useful,” he said at last.

She gathered her dropped belongings, then hung them over the rail he had built for her to practice ballet. Anne didn’t say a word more as she flopped backward onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

A sudden coldness hit his stomach as he digested her reaction. He cleared his throat, then focused on the longest sentence yet.
P-R-E…

“What are you doing, anyway?” she asked, sniffing back tears.

She leaned against the table and wiped her face clean with the back of her arm. It was beginning to show that they weren’t eating enough. The few windfalls from the casino had been spent, but foolishly. He didn’t like seeing her so thin.

His hand kneaded over the tense cords of his neck as he thought of the best approach.

“You’re reading the scandal sheets.” She pulled the other bit of newsprint from the table. “And the social column. Is anyone missing someone?”

He knew that she asked if he had found someone searching for their missing daughter, sister, or niece. He hadn’t thought of discovering more about her background. He was focused on another’s altogether at the moment.

“You don’t give up easily, do you, Alex?” Her voice was high and cracked as she slammed her closed fist over the tabletop. “I’m not going back,” she insisted. “I won’t.”

If he had learned anything from living in the same room as his pretend wife, it wasn’t to underestimate her temper.

“I’m searching for someone.”

“I see,” she sniffed again. Anne pushed off from the table and approached the wooden railing as if it were a trap.

P-R-E-A-M…-B…

“Can you read?”

His hand clenched into a fist. He could bloody well read if she would…

His thoughts quieted as her hand ran over the sanded grain, a sad smile spreading over her lips.

“You were saying the letters out loud,” she said, her eyes still focused on his surprise.

“I can read fine.” His answer was husky, so he swallowed and knitted his brows at the impossible girl. He grabbed the paper and spread it out in front of him like he had seen the gentlemen do as they waited for their shoes to be polished. “Fine,” he repeated.

“F-I-N-E,” she said.

He peered around the paper, his chest tightening.

“Oh, you’re so stubborn!” She marched over and grabbed the newsprint. “I spelled the word fine.” Her tone softened. “Not being able to read is nothing to be ashamed of. I can help.”

Anne had a proper education. She knew nothing of his struggle. Danny had taught Alex what he could once they escaped, but reading was never a skill Alex picked up quickly. Numbers, language even, but never reading. He could speak well when he must. He had manners certainly better than hers most of the time. But he was still marked by chains that had been around his wrists, still had those damn tattoos etched into his skin, the brands of the immoral. People like Alex were never meant to receive an education. There was no need for them to have one when they were destined to waste away in a room. An asylum, a prison; it made no difference.

Anne bent over the table and in a hushed whisper said, “Today is my birthday.” And just as quickly she laughed. “Anyhow, tell me who you’re looking for.”

His shoulders relaxed as he gazed up at her. His throat was dry and he desperately needed a drink. “I need to find someone for a friend,” he said instead. “My friend wishes to thank her for aiding him.” Alex stopped there. No point in confessing the rest.

“And does this friend have a name?”

“Of course, but you don’t need to know it.”

“Very well, so what is this lady’s name?” Anne sank into the seat beside him. “What makes you think she’ll be in the social column?”

“I don’t have a name for her.”

Her eyes widened with glee. “So, she’s a mystery?”

“I remember him mentioning that she possessed a terrible stutter.”

Anne slipped off her seat, sliding off onto the floor with a thud.

“She’s a member of good society,” he continued. “There must be mention of her.” He looked down at Anne. “What are you doing on the floor?”

She refused his outstretched hand and stood. “Not everyone is written up in the social column.” She brushed off her backside, trying her best to appear dignified. Alex held back a snicker. “And this mystery woman may prefer to keep to herself.”

There was no holding back the exhaustion. He only wanted what every other person possessed—an identity. He was so very tired of having to live with a name that wasn’t true. “It’s very important that I find her.”

Anne bit her lip then nodded. “Then you must.” She shoved the paper back into his hands. “Read this to me.”

She paced between the door and the table as he read, letter by letter, word by word, searching for the one person who knew who he truly was.

M
innie didn’t meet anyone in the eye as she entered Mrs. Bowen’s. She swallowed back the bile that had been rising in her throat and trudged up the stairs.

Dearest Minnie
, the letter had started.
My dearest sister…

Her body was sore, her mind a blank space that held nothing except for thoughts of cold water and bed.

Teddy forwarded me your letter. I swear I won’t tell uncle, but Mama cries daily, wishing for information, and you know I can’t lie. Please, just write them. We all miss you. Cecily is ill again, keeping Mama busy with the doctors and nurses. Uncle wrote that he was on his way home to search for you. If you won’t come home, please write. I don’t wish to keep this secret but I was so happy to read of your adventure. Be well and know that I love you.

Your sister, always, Grace.

Grace had referred to Clara as mother ever since she could talk. And really, Clara had stepped in and filled that role. Nothing was so simple at Burton Hall in the early days when they all first arrived from India. Clara was the governess, but so much more. And then she had had Rhys and taken charge when Minnie’s uncle left them without a word. But that was before everything fell back into place, before her uncle returned and was honored with a title for his heroics in Afghanistan. That was before rules began to matter.

The top stair groaned as she placed weight on it. The board was growing soft from the small leak from the ceiling. She stretched, extending her other leg to brace herself on the landing in case the stair gave way. It was hard not to believe everything was beginning to give way.

Her mind was still reeling when she entered their room in the attic, so it took a moment before she gasped and dropped to her knees, taking in the wreckage. The mattress was flipped over, the sheets and quilt ripped. Rags and feathers hid the roughhewn floor. The small table was turned over, a leg broken off. The pitcher of water was shattered, water pooling around Alex, who sat on the floor with his back against the wall, his long legs stretched outward.

He rolled his head to meet her shocked stare, his palms open toward the ceiling.

“What happened?” She prayed they had been robbed. It would be easier to stomach. She feared the truth, even if he couldn’t say it, she would know and everything would change again.

His eyes were red, but his skin appeared free of bruises. She smelled no alcohol.

“I tried.” Alex tipped his head and stared at the ceiling. “Go home, Anne. Please.”

“You’re wet.” She swallowed. “Stand up before you catch a cold.”

Alex banged his head against the wall, a dry heartless laugh scratching from his throat.

Minnie stood, even as he held his hands out to warn her off. “You won’t hurt me,” she said softly. She focused her eyes and edged closer, afraid that if she blinked everything would change. “Have some faith.”

It was a long moment before he replied, “That’s a tall order.”

Minnie sank to her knees and stretched her hand out. When he didn’t flinch away, she cupped her cold palm against his cheek, warm and covered in bristled growth. Much darker than the unnaturally blond hair on his head. “If you don’t tell me what is happening, I can’t help.”

“I don’t want your help.” He held her gaze, his normally brilliant blue eyes glassy. “And I have had enough of sharing my life with you.”

She placed the rubber ball in his hand that rolled next to him. He slowly looked down to the ball in his open palm, then up to her again. The words were hard to force out, but eventually she said, “Mrs. Bowen won’t agree with your decorating choices.”

He chucked the ball across the room, but there was too much in its way to return.

She desperately wanted his arms around her then.

“I lost my position at the factory,” he confessed.

Minnie nervously wiped away the loose hair around her face. “We’ll be fine.”

“F-I-N-E.”

“Ah, a joke, Mr. Marwick?” She stood and rested her hands on her hips. “Well, up with you. The room won’t right itself.”

“I can’t right myself.”

Minnie reached down for the pillow on the floor and hit him beside the head. “I think you can if you put your mind to it,
darling
.”

“You want nothing to do with my mind.”

Her smile dropped as another bit fell in place around Alex the mysterious. “Don’t tell me what I need.” She lifted the pillow and hit him again, forcing herself to laugh as more feathers swirled around them.

He growled and for brief moment, chuckled. Short and deep. It surprised Minnie so much that she didn’t notice at first that he had yanked the pillow out of her hand. She wasn’t quick enough to outrun him once she did. He swung the pillow upward against her hip. She fell back a step. She scampered over the overthrown mattress in search of the second pillow. “I’m perfectly capable of deciding my own opinion of you,” she said, yelling over her shoulder.

“And?” he asked, slowly rising to his feet.

“Careful of the glass,” she cautioned, holding out her hand.

He threw down the quilt to cover it, not taking his eyes off of her. “And?”

Minnie titled her head. “You’re tolerable.” She squealed as he clumsily charged after her with the pillow. They chased each other in circles, climbing over the upturned furniture. “Fine, you’re capable,” she conceded, righting a chair and jumping onto the seat.

He spun around, holding the pillow in the air, his eyebrow arched as she towered above him. “I don’t think you’re capable of making decisions at all, if that’s what you think.”

“You’re annoying.” Without thinking, Minnie jumped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck, her ankles crossed tightly at his waist.

Alex ripped the pillow from her hand, twirling her around as if to shake her off. She relaxed against his body, tightening her hug. Her laughter fell away with the remaining feathers into a thick silence. Her grip loosened until his hand released her feet and she slid down his back to the floor. She froze once he faced her and dropped his pillow to the floor. Alex edged closer and bent forward until their noses almost touched.