A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)

A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1) Page 29

A sudden noise made him freeze. Angry shouting, originating from somewhere a fair distance away . . . but even so, all too near.

“Did you hear that?” she asked, clutching him tight.

And then the crash of breaking glass jolted them apart.

Bram hurried to gain his feet, then extended a hand to help her do the same. Individually, they began reassembling garments without further discussion. Ignoring the noise was never an option. Whatever disturbance had occurred, it would no doubt require one—or both—of them to sort it out. Their idyllic interlude was over. Duty called.

Bram had his breeches refastened in a matter of moments. He turned to help Susanna with her gown.

“I can manage,” she said, tilting her head toward the unknown source of the commotion. “Go on ahead.”

He took her at her word, dashing out from beneath the willow’s canopy and making his way across the green.

There, in the lane between the All Things shop and the Blushing Bull, or the Rutting Pansy, or whatever it was called tonight—a small crowd had formed. The way the men bunched and jostled in a ring, Bram suspected fisticuffs had broken out.

He pushed his way to the center, eager to break up the fight before any more damage could be done, to bodies, property, or morale. Much as he’d hoped to imbue his men with a bit of red-blooded combative spirit, it wasn’t meant to be directed within the ranks.

However, he didn’t find any of his men at the center of the circle.

He found the boys. Rufus and Finn, rolling around on the ground. Scrapping but good, with fists swinging—and teeth and knees involved, too. By the looks of the scene, they’d tumbled straight through the tea shop’s front window. Shards of broken glass and bits of window leading covered the ground.

“Dodgy bastard,” one of the twins spat. A trickle of blood from his temple made it hard to tell which one.

“Shite for brains,” the other replied, reversing their positions and landing a punch to the gut. “We’re twins. If I’m a bastard, you’re one too.”

“You’re the only one what’s a lying scum.”

As they rolled, glass crunched beneath them. Time to put a stop to this, Bram decided. He reached out and plucked the topmost Bright twin—he still didn’t know which—off the other. “That’ll be enough, you two. What’s going on here?”

“Rufus started it,” one said, pointing.

“Aye, but it’s Finn’s fault,” the other shot back, dabbing the blood at his temple.

Well, at least now Bram had their identities sorted out. He turned to Rufus. “What happened?”

Rufus glared at his brother. “He lied to Miss Charlotte, he did. Danced with her twice. First, as himself. Then once again, saying he was me.”

Finn just tugged his ear and grinned. “You’re just sorry you didn’t think of it.”

“I’ll pound you, you little—” Rufus lunged, but Bram held him back.

“Hold there,” he said. “Both of you.” Once he had both boys by the collar, he cast a glance at Charlotte Highwood, who looked as excited as any fourteen-year-old girl could be about having two boys fight over her attentions. She surely wasn’t going to be of any help in calming them. The crowd of onlookers appeared more amused than anything.

Bram knew he had to make it clear that boys or no, brothers or no, such fighting wouldn’t be tolerated. “Now, listen,” he said sternly, giving each boy a rough shake. “This isn’t seemly behavior for two—”

“Help! Oh, help!”

They all turned toward the frantic female voice.

The ladies clustered in the entry of the tea shop-turned-tavern. Miss Diana Highwood sat slumped in the doorway, struggling for breath. Her complexion was pale and clammy, and her fingers were curled into misshapen fists.

“It’s her asthma again,” Mrs. Highwood said, her hands fluttering. “Oh dear. Oh dear. This wasn’t supposed to happen here. Miss Finch promised Spindle Cove would be her cure.”

Susanna was already there, one hand soothing the gasping woman’s shoulder. “Her tincture,” she said calmly. “Where is her tincture? She keeps it in her reticule.”

“I . . . I don’t know. It might be inside, or at the inn, or . . .” Charlotte paled. “I don’t know.”

“Search inside,” Susanna told Fosbury. “The tables, the floor, the pianoforte.” To a few of the other ladies, she said, “Go search the Highwoods’ rooms at the inn.”

Once these runners had been dispatched, she caught Rufus’s eye. “I have a spare batch in my stillroom. A blue bottle, right side of the top shelf. You and Finn run as fast as you can to Summerfield and bring it back.”

The twins nodded and dashed off down the lane.

“Let me go instead,” Bram said.

She shook her head. “They need the distraction.” Her gaze flicked to Bram’s knee. “And they’re faster.”

Right. And Bram was just a lamed, useless lump. “Shall I go for a doctor?”

“No,” she answered firmly. “She’s been subjected to enough doctors. And there’s no proper physician for miles, at any rate.”

He nodded and stepped back. Damn it. He would never shy from a battle. He’d accept any risk to his own life, if it meant saving another’s. But there was nothing he could do to help Susanna right now, and the feeling ate him raw. If he’d learned one thing in his eight months of convalescence, it was that he didn’t cope well with helplessness.

But Susanna had this entire scene under control. Turning her attention to Diana, she spoke calmly, stroking the young woman’s back in slow, soothing circles. “Just relax, dear. Remain calm, and you’ll come through this.”

“It’s here. The tincture. It’s here.” The blacksmith emerged from the tea shop, his face stark and pale. He pressed a tiny bottle into Susanna’s hand and stepped back immediately.

“Thank you.” With sure fingers, Susanna unscrewed the bottle’s top and measured a capful of dark liquid. She looked to Bram. “Will you hold her? If she trembles, the medicine might spill.”

“Of course.” Finally, something he could do. He knelt beside the gasping woman and wrapped her slender body in his arms. Her tremors shook through him.

“Don’t be afraid to hold her tight,” Susanna said. “Just keep her immobile.” She tilted Diana’s head back to rest against his shoulder, then poured the capful of tincture between her quivering, blue-tinged lips. “Swallow, dear. I know it’s difficult, but you can do it.”

Miss Highwood nodded a bit and managed a choking, harsh swallow. Then her gasping resumed.

“What now?” Bram asked, looking to Susanna.

“Now we wait.”

They waited, in tense, painful silence, listening to the sounds of Miss Highwood struggling for breath. After a few minutes, her rasping softened to a gentler wheeze, and a faint wash of pink returned to her cheeks. No matter what ribbing he might take for it later, Bram decided right there—pink was his new favorite color.

As Diana’s struggles eased, everyone watching drew a deep, grateful breath.

“That’s it,” Susanna murmured to her friend. “That’s it. Take deep, slow breaths. The worst is behind you now.”

Bram released the young woman and left her in Susanna’s care.

“It’s all right, dear,” she mumbled, stroking Diana’s damp brow. “It’s over now. All’s well.” Then Susanna glanced up, and her face went blank with dismay. “Heavens. Just look at this place.”

Bram watched as she made a slow, heartrending survey of the scene. Her gaze traveled from the shambles of the tea shop, to the broken glass in the lane, to the trembling woman in her arms. Miss Highwood might have survived this episode, but Spindle Cove’s peaceful atmosphere had not.

Minerva Highwood came dashing out from the Queen’s Ruby. She flew straight to her sister’s side, taking her hand. “Diana. My God, what’s happened?”

“She had a breathing crisis,” Susanna answered. “But she’s better now.”

Minerva kissed her sister’s pale brow. “Oh, Diana. I’m so sorry. I should never have left you in that place. I knew the dancing was a bad idea.”

“It was hardly your fault, Minerva.”

Minerva’s head whipped up. “Oh, I know very well whose fault it was.” Her gaze focused on a distant target. “This is all your doing.”

To a one, every head in the crowd swiveled to face Colin. But Bram felt the guilt landing squarely on him. To be sure, his cousin was responsible for this mess. But Bram was responsible for his cousin.

Susanna knew it, too. While everyone else was glaring daggers at Colin, her eyes met Bram’s. And her gaze couldn’t have said any more plainly, I warned you this would happen.

“We never should have stayed in this wretched place,” Mrs. Highwood wailed, clutching a handkerchief to her mouth. “Lords or no lords. I knew that spa in Kent would have been the better choice.”

“Mama, please. Let’s discuss this inside.” Minerva took her mother by the arm.

Slowly, Susanna helped Diana Highwood to her feet. “Come along, ladies. Let’s take her back to the rooming house where she can rest.”

“Can we help you move her?” Bram asked, putting a hand under Miss Highwood’s elbow to help.

“No, thank you, my lord.” Susanna gave him a sad half smile. “You and your friends have done quite enough this evening.”

“I’ll wait for you,” he murmured. “See you back to Summerfield later.”

She shook her head. “Please don’t.”

“I want to help. Give me something to do.”

“Just leave me be,” she whispered. Her eyes darted to the side, and he could tell she was conscious of how everyone stared at the two of them. “Please.”

To leave her be, when she was so clearly upset and vulnerable, went against every protective impulse in his body. But he’d asked her what he could do, and she’d answered him. Honor bade him to comply. For now.

With a reluctant nod, he stepped back. Young ladies clustered around her as they all retreated to the Queen’s Ruby.

He’d let her down. She’d asked him to put a stop to this madness, and he’d refused. Now Miss Highwood was taken ill, the tea shop was in shambles, and he’d put both her reputation and her cherished community at risk. After all their confessions last night, he understood what this place meant to her, how much effort and care she’d devoted to its success.

She’d given him her virginity under the willow tree. And he’d let her down. Bloody hell.

Tomorrow, he’d see about making it up to her.

Tonight, his cousin would have hell to pay.

“Go home, all of you,” he told the men milling about the lane. “Sleep off your drink and return to this spot at sunrise. There’ll be no drill tomorrow until we put this place to rights.”

One by one, the men dispersed, leaving him and Colin alone.

Colin shook his head, regarding the scene. “Well, I’ve certainly left my mark on this place. There isn’t a tavern or ballroom or woman in England I can’t leave ruined and panting for more.”

Bram glared at him, enraged. “You think this is amusing? Fosbury’s establishment is in splinters, and a young lady almost died here tonight. In my arms.”

“I know, I know.” Looking grieved, Colin pushed both hands through his hair. “It’s not amusing at all. But how was I to know she would suffer such an attack? I never meant any harm, you must know. We only meant to have a bit of fun.”

“Fun.” Bram fired the word back at him. “Did you ever stop to think that perhaps the ladies have a reason for keeping this a peaceful village? Or that perhaps the mission we’re here to accomplish is more important than an evening’s debauchery?” When Colin didn’t immediately reply, he said, “No. Of course you didn’t consider it. You never consider anyone else, except to see them standing in the way of your fun.”