Chapter 19
PLANS TO WORRY
Lily and Owen stayed for lunch, but then they had to go since they were invited to a ball that very night, an event that Lily very begrudgingly agreed to participate in. Owen seemed more enthusiastic for obvious reasons.
So, in the early evening, Marigold sat in Verdant House which was as warm as a blanket. She had another book on her lap, but she was not reading. She was thinking of that day, cataloging its significance in her life, simple and uneventful as it was.
And then she thought of Brandon. How he, too, suffered and was deprived of the things that had nothing to do with money.
And she couldn’t help being jealous of him as they grew up.
Not because of his immense wealth, but because of Owen and Lily, two steadfast best friends who included him in their little circle with no second thought.
And somewhere in these wanderings of her mind, she realized that Brandon offered her his name and station, his title and affluence, but the greatest treasure that he shared with her was those two friends.
“Your Grace,” Beth entered the drawing room, “His Grace would like to inform you that he is going to take his dinner in the study, and you shouldn’t wait for him.”
“Thank you, Beth,” Marigold said. “Let His Grace know that I was informed of his intentions.”
Marigold closed the already useless book with a decisive thud. It was as if the Duke had reached the quota of meals he was supposed to share with her, and now, he was withdrawing.
She stood up and walked down the corridor that led to his study, and for a long moment, she stood in front of that door. It was not that she had initiated a conversation like this before. She was always the one who waited for him.
But then she remembered the look he had on in the garden. That look that he attempted to hide from her, and that action alone told her more than his words would. Marigold raised her hand and knocked on the door.
“Enter,” came his voice from within.
Taking a deep breath and straightening her back, Marigold opened the door and stepped inside. The study was in no better shape than the last time she had entered here. The fire was lit, and candles were all around, an idea that Marigold found at least a fire risk, given all the papers lying around.
“Marigold.” He looked up from his work, clearly surprised by her presence.
She closed the door behind her.
“I think we need to talk,” she said simply.
“I have just informed you that I will be busy for the rest of the night.”
“Consider myself informed.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Informed does not equal compliant, Your Grace,” Marigold said.
The Duke chuckled at her words. He was not angry, he was intrigued. He stood up from his chair and walked around his desk, not making any move to invite her to sit down.
“You came here to defy me to my face, sweetheart?”
Marigold realized that she may have overestimated her confidence as the Duke stalked toward her. His dark black eyes locked on hers, and Marigold had no illusions as to who the apex predator in the room was.
She tightened her fists and struggled to keep her face neutral as the Duke came closer to her, asserting his power by his sheer size.
“You didn’t answer my question, and you know what happens when you don’t answer my questions.”
Marigold gasped and looked at him with wide eyes.
She didn’t exactly know what happened when she didn’t answer his questions, but she always felt inclined to follow his instructions, especially if they were in a more private situation.
Which this, given the fact that they were in a locked room, constituted a private setting.
“Did you come here to defy me?”
Marigold felt the heat rising in her body.
Her cheeks flushed, and her pulse hammered at her throat.
If he was trying to lure her away from her questioning, he was doing an excellent job.
And he would probably have succeeded if Marigold hadn’t caught the bruise on his nose, catching the light from the fireplace.
“What is happening?” she demanded.
The Duke stopped his advance and looked down at her with an unreadable expression. It was caught between disappointment that his plan didn’t work, surprise at Marigold insisting on knowing, and concern over what he was actually planning to do.
“You think I don’t know why you asked to retreat to your study tonight?” Marigold said. “You have a plan in the works.”
“That is not something that you should worry yourself about.” The Duke took one step back and retreated to his wall.
“Seeing that I was the one treating you back to health since you nearly escaped death last time,” Marigold said in a firm tone, “I think I have earned the right to know exactly what you are planning, so I can at least prepare the medicine and aids I am going to need.”
The Duke felt ashamed, treating her like an ignorant lady when she was the one giving him the information, knowing very well what that information cost her.
“I told you the last time was just—”
“Reconnaissance, I know,” Marigold fired back. “You have used that word plenty of times as if it were supposed to make me feel better. I may not be very well versed in the art of war, but I do think that doing reconnaissance has more to do with stealth than with broken ribs.”
He turned his back on her and looked at his wall. Marigold softened her body and her face and stood right next to him.
“You know you can tell me,” Marigold said. “I’m not going to faint or be scandalized. You literally found me almost ruined in a dark alley by these people.”
The Duke’s whole body tensed with pure malice.
“If you want me to keep my head level, please do not remind me of that situation ever again,” he demanded.
“All I am saying,” Marigold turned and touched his arm, “is that I worry, and I want you to tell me what you are going to do.”
They had touched each other in the most intimate ways, but it seemed that the simple touch on his arm had the Duke losing his focus.
Perhaps because it was not born out of physical need but of genuine concern.
Truth be told, neither of them was very accustomed to having someone distressed on their account.
“What is the plan?” Marigold asked with a soft smile.
“That is a very large question,” Brandon countered.
“Then give me a very large answer.”
He sighed, shedding his strict disposition, and his look softened. Marigold was very satisfied to see that she had finally worn him down.
“I cannot go into details.”
“Perfect. Details are boring.”
“Details are the perfection of a plan.”
“I will keep that in mind next time I am up against a gang in the alleys of London.”
“Marigold, do not even jest about this,” he snarled at her.
Marigold raised her eyebrow but had to nod in compliance when she met his dark look. The Duke was certainly not taking this lightly.
“Do not worry, Your Grace. I have left my alley-wondering days behind,” Marigold reassured. “I wish I could say the same about you and Owen, but I know I would be asking for too much, so the least you can do for me is tell me all that you can share.”
The Duke sighed again as he openly weighed his options. Marigold stood her ground firmly and waited for him to make the right decision.
“You know most of it,” Brandon finally spoke.
“I know what you intend to do,” Marigold admitted. “You’re going to use the information I gave you to dismantle Johnny’s gang. How?”
“We are putting pressure on them.”
“I am going to be discreet, never ask how Owen is involved in all this, and pretend that it is only because he is your good friend and supports you.”
The Duke looked down at her, taking one step closer, appraising her as if he were seeing her for the first time.
“I always prided myself on reading people well from the first look,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “but you, sweetheart, you keep surprising me.”
“Somebody ought to keep you on your toes, Your Grace,” Marigold answered back.
He let out one genuine laugh as he shook his head, like a man who realized that he had made a terrible mistake and didn’t even regret it.
“I will not tell you the specifics, but the plan is to push them into a corner and force them out.”
Marigold went somber and pondered on that plan. She looked up at the Duke, nodding.
“Again,” she said sternly, “I will pretend that I don’t know that this is going to take a lot more manpower than two men can provide. I sincerely hope that you don’t plan on waiting for Johnny to come out on the offensive when he’s like a wounded beast with just you and Owen.”
Brandon lowered his chin and looked at his wife, this time as if realizing he was in trouble.
“I will simply say that you can rest assured.”
“If you try to dismantle Johnny’s gang, no one is going to be favorable in all the docks.” Marigold spoke with the voice she had when handling the ledgers, practical and finite.
“I am well aware,” the Duke nodded.
Marigold was not satisfied with that dismissive answer.
Her mind’s eye brought forth the image of him lying bloodied at the foot of the stairs, unable to support his own body.
Her skin crawled with the same fear it did when she saw him like that, the sheer terror, the trembling hands, the cold sweat running down her spine.
“I do not want you to be aware, Brandon,” she said, fear and anger taking the best of her. “I want you to be prepared and cautious.”
Her visceral reaction took him by surprise. His jaw slightly dropped, and he frowned not in anger but in shock at her outburst.
“Marigold—”
“Do not even dare to ‘Marigold’ me, and do not mention ‘sweetheart’ right at this moment.” Marigold left the threat lingering in the air.
“I know what I’m doing,” he said firmly.
“I am sure that if I were to ask before your infamous reconnaissance,” Marigold was shaking with dread, “you would have given me the same enlightened answer. And you still would have come back home with a broken nose, cracked ribs, and bloodied.”
“That was different. This time—”
“Why must there be a ‘this time’?” Marigold demanded. “I am here. I am safe. Donny cannot touch me anymore. I know you want to do this for Greta, but she would not want to see you hurt. I cannot bear to see you hurt.”
Brandon was left speechless, the usual cold, distant Duke, almost awkward, not knowing how to address the situation and her waterfall of emotions.
“Do you think because the bruises have faded and your nose is set that my heart is settled?”
“I…”
“Do you think I don’t dread the day you will come back in a worse state than you came the last time? Do you even feel my relief when you stay where I can see you, where I know you’re safe?”
“This is something that I have to do.”
“What if it were me out there?”
“This is not the same.”
“What would you feel if you knew that I was out there?”
“I thought I warned you never to speak of it again. Johnny and his gang will never lay their hands on you again.”
“But they might lay their hands on you again. And I will be here sitting and waiting, unable to do anything to stop it.”
“I’m sorry. I have to see this through, Marigold.”
“Why? Why can’t you just let go? Am I not enough? Being at your side, knowing that you saved me like you would have saved Greta?”
Brandon looked up, trying to control his raging emotions, but Marigold would not take a step back from this, not if she could protect him.
“Yes, you are safe,” he said, looking back into her eyes. “And yes, somehow that fact makes the sharp blade of memories more dull.”
Marigold took a step closer and placed both her hands on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast. She looked up into his eyes, begging.
“Then let go. Please let go, and stay home.”
Brandon looked down at her with a pained expression. He placed his hands over hers, just breathing for a few moments.
“Marigold,” he said in a devastating tone, “tell me truly if this is enough for you, and I will stop. Is it enough for you if I came home while you know that other girls are being threatened the way you were threatened? That Johnny and his goons are still out there hurting people as they hurt you, like they hurt Greta?”
She frowned and closed her eyes, letting her forehead drop on his chest.
“Tell me that you can live with this, and I will stay home every night. I will make this somebody else’s problem.”
When Marigold looked back at him, she had tears running down her face. She hated that he was right. It was the easy way out, to look away, to pretend none of it was important, that it was out of their hands. She was saved. She was out. So…
There were still girls out there. Girls below her station. Girls like her who were pawed upon by Donny shamelessly. She shook her head, trying to reconcile what her heart desired and what she knew was right.
“I know,” Brandon said and cradled her face. “I am tempted too, Marigold.”
More tears streamed down her cheeks, and he wiped them with his thumbs.
“I am tempted to leave this all behind. To tear down this wall, throw everything away into the fireplace. Just so I can be home safe every night. So that you sleep better.”
Her fingers curled into his shirt. She took one shaky breath.
“Promise me you will be careful.”
“Don’t worry, I—”
“I will worry, Brandon. Just please, please, be careful. No more recklessness.”
Brandon said nothing. He simply nodded at her, letting his forehead rest on hers as they both closed their eyes.
“I will come back to you every time.”
Marigold sobbed, unable to control her tears and her fear. The words were caught in her throat, unable to stop shaking.
“Do not break this promise,” she said finally, “or I will come down to the docks myself and drag you back.”
He chuckled, his breath warming her cold body.
“And here I was thinking that Johnny’s gang was the most dangerous thing crawling across the docks.”
She hit him lightly on his chest with her fists for mocking her. He caught her wrists and kissed the knuckles of her hand.
“I mean it, Marigold,” he said softly. “I may not have been used to having someone to go back home to, but now, I do.”
She looked back at him, his words settling in like balm on her pain. She exhaled, and this time it was not out of anger or grief or pain or anguish. It was something deeper that she couldn’t even name.
Her hands moved up from his chest, gently around his neck. Brandon leaned in, his look dropping from her eyes to her lips. And then he claimed them. It was the softest of kisses, not hungry or needy. Just a promise sealed as their lips found each other.
Her arms anchored around his neck, needing to feel him closer, not as a physical need anymore but as a reassurance that his warmth, his scent, would always accompany her. And he too breathed her in, as if bottling deep inside the reason he needed to come back.
As they broke the kiss, his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her to him. He just let her nestle into his chest, and for a while, all they could hear was the fire crackling.
Marigold realized with terror that felt so sweet that she could no longer imagine her life without that hug.