Anything but Love (The Putney Brothers Book 1) Read online

  "Are you sure you should go?" said Patience, looking concerned. "It's already dusk out there, and you're not supposed to go about by yourself."

  Marianne rolled her eyes. "I told you, dearest; Cuthbert has taken the last of my money, so he has no reason to abduct me and force me into marriage. I'm perfectly safe now, and once Gordon arrives, everything can be sorted out for the best."

  Patience was far from convinced. She bit her lip for a moment and then turned to Marianne's Godmama and her father.

  "Would you mind terribly if Marianne accompanies me to the powder room? I can feel the hem of my dress slipping, and I need her to help me pin it in place.”

  Mr Swancoat's eyes went wide for a moment, but Eustacia reached over to place her hand on top of his, and it seemed to calm him.

  "Yes, yes, of course," he said, nodding more times than were necessary. "But don't be too long, will you, my girls? You wouldn't want to miss the dancing, and I am so looking forward to watching it."

  "And stay with Patience," said Eustacia, a steely eye on Marianne.

  Marianne smiled, holding up her reticule. "Of course I will, for I am the one with the sewing kit! Best to be prepared for every eventuality, don't you think?"

  "Insolent girl," replied her Godmama with no malice. "Off with you both, and quick about it!"

  "Why did you lie?" whispered Marianne as they exited the ballroom.

  "If Father thought I was leaving the house, he would become agitated," she said by way of explanation. "It's something that afflicts him, but it's hard to explain."

  "You wanted to save him from any pain," said Marianne. "I understand that, my dear. Thank you for coming with me, but I promise you don't have to worry."

  "I know, and I'll likely make Harry wear a pineapple as a bonnet if this is no more than one of his tricks," said Patience, but then flashed Marianne a wicked grin. "Of course, if it turns out to be Charlie trying to make a romantic proposal to you, he'll die of mortification when I stroll into the building!"

  "Don't be silly," said Marianne, her cheeks suddenly ablaze. "And you should not have told Ursula that Charlie and I were destined to make a match of it!"

  Patience's grin only grew wider. "Just because the two of you are the only ones unable to see it doesn't mean the rest of us should pretend you're not made for each other."

  "I could say the same about John."

  Her friend's smile quickly faded to a scowl. "That's different."

  "Not really, but I promise not to tease you if you refrain from teasing me."

  The number of other guests gradually thinned, until the two girls passed by the rear sitting room and reached the back entrance to the house.

  "Agreed," said Patience as Marianne pushed open the door, and then shivered. "Good grief, those storm clouds have rolled right in, haven't they?"

  "It's not raining yet,” said Marianne, glancing up at the sky. "I wish we had thought to bring shawls! Oh, I'm going to wring Harry's neck when I get to him."

  They began to run between the beds of the kitchen garden, but Patience suddenly came to a halt and grabbed at Marianne's shoulder.

  "What is it?" she asked her tall friend as she rubbed her bare shoulders in an attempt to warm up.

  "There should be a footman on the back door," said Patience. "Sir Joseph always has staff at every entrance to the building during his parties, just in case a thief tries to sneak in during the chaos."

  Marianne glanced back at the house. The light was flooding out onto the terrace on one side of the house, and leaking through curtain cracks on the other.

  "Maybe Harry asked him to go somewhere else," she said, but it tasted untrue the moment the words left her mouth.

  "We should go back," said Patience, reaching out to take Marianne's hand in her own. "I don't like this one bit, and even if you are safe from your cousin, that doesn't mean we are safe from any other rogues and wretches in the area."

  "Let us check on Harry first," said Marianne, glancing over towards the hothouses. "We'd feel like terrible fools if it turns out to be one of his pranks."

  "He will feel terrible if it's one of his pranks and Sir Joseph gets wind of it," replied Patience.

  "Precisely, and neither of us wants any harm to come to him. He's the only one of the three brothers we like, remember?"

  Patience hesitated for a moment, but then started walking towards the Pinery Vinery, her hand tight around Marianne's.

  "Very well, but if he's not in mortal danger, I do not promise that I will keep my temper with him. My pumps are going to be ruined after this."

  "I'll make him buy us both new ones," Marianne promised.

  "Harry!" Patience called as loudly as she dared. "Harry, where on earth are you? This isn't funny!"

  "There are no candles lit in the Pinery," said Marianne, peering through the glass. "just the glow of the embers, but I don't think there is anyone in there."

  Patience moved away from her so she could press her own face up against the panes of the orchid house. "The same here. Do you think he sent us out here on a wild goose chase?"

  "He'd better be at death's door if he did," replied Marianne, "For I'm too cold and angry at him to be polite. Come on, we should get back inside before this rain starts."

  "Marianne!" squeaked Patience. "Marianne, look over there!"

  The fear in her friend's voice was so real that Marianne rushed to her side before turning to see where she pointed. At the far end of the kitchen gardens, right were the unkempt woodland encircled them, a tiny ball of red fire, not quite big enough to be the embers of a man's pipe, flared into life and danced, suspended in the dark, for a long moment, too low to be in the mouth of someone lurking there, but too high to be in their hand.

  "Pwca," Marianne breathed.

  "Abductor," whispered Patience.

  "Run," they said at the same time, holding hands as they began to charge towards the house, only for Marianne's foot to connect with something large that sent her sprawling to the ground. She dragged Patience with her, and her friend cried out with pain as her ankle twisted beneath her.

  "Dear God, it's Harry!" squeaked Marianne, her voice nothing more than a choked whisper. "He's unconscious, Patience! What do I do?"

  "Is he breathing?"

  She lent down over Harry's prone form, one hand on his chest and her ear just an inch above his mouth.

  "Yes, thank God," she sighed as his breath drifted past her ear. "I think he must have fallen and hit his head; maybe he saw the pwca, and panicked."

  "Or he saw your abductor, and tripped while he ran for help," Patience whispered urgently. "Marianne, I've twisted my ankle; I don't think I can stand. You have to run back to the house and get help."

  "I can just scream," she said, opening her mouth before her friend slapped a hand across her lips.

  "No, you fool! If there is someone in the gardens, that means us harm then screaming will bring them here faster than help can possibly arrive."

  "I didn't think of that," whispered Marianne, although she was not convinced. Patience had given a cry of pain when they fell, and her own heart was thundering so loudly in her chest that she was sure that the whole of Wales could hear it. "What should I do?"

  "Run back to the house and get Sir Joseph," Patience replied. "Do not tell my father, Marianne! It could bring on one of his attacks! Get Sir Joseph, or John or Charlie, even Thomas Trow or Aldburn would do right now! But be quick, dearest! We don't know how badly Harry has been hurt."

  "But what about you? I can't just leave you here," said Marianne, casting a nervous glance towards the woodland, even though no tiny light could be seen.

  "I'll take care of Harry, but the sooner you go then the sooner you can send help. Go, but be quiet! They must not realise you are alone!"

  She knew her friend meant an abductor, perhaps even Cuthbert, but the memories of all the Welsh fairy tales that Phillips and Charles had told her threatened to overwhelm her good sense, and part of her was truly frightened th
at one of the Tylwyth Teg would jump out at her. She ran low and quietly through the kitchen gardens, slower than she would have liked but as silently as she could. She had covered almost half of the distance when she heard a sharp yelp from behind her, like the sound of a puppy who had just been knocked unconscious.

  "Patience," she hissed into the darkness. "Patience!"

  There was no response. She remained rooted to the spot but did not give in to the temptation to look back at the lights of the house behind her. Even with the hum of the ball in the distance, she could make out the sound of heavy footfall crunching on the ground. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she had to shove her fist into her mouth to stop herself from screaming. A tall figure, half enveloped in the darkness, was walking towards the narrow gap in the hothouses, something large and human-like slung over its shoulder.

  Her heart thundered, and she wanted to vomit, but she crept forwards quietly, all the way to where Harry's still form lay. He continued to breathe, and Marianne gave silent thanks that whoever had taken Patience had not finished the youngest Putney off at the same time.

  She looked back at the house, down at Harry, and then back to where the figure was disappearing behind the Pinery Vinery. If she screamed, she might be able to summon help, but not before the rogue who had kidnapped Patience returned to silence her, and perhaps kill Harry in the process. If she tried to run and get help, it could be too late for her friend, for who knew whether the abductor had a horse or an accomplice waiting in the woods.

  She clutched her reticule tight against her chest, and then had an idea.

  *

  Charles kept his smile fixed firmly in place as the last of the guests finally sauntered in, and he could abandon the receiving line. John and Harry had already been freed from this arduous duty, ostensibly to act as hosts in the ballroom, but in reality, it was to keep an eye on Marianne.

  "She's fine, boy," his father murmured to him. "With this many people, no harm will come to her."

  "You abducted mother from a ball twice this size," Charles reminded him, and he was damned if his father didn't smirk at the memory.

  "I had forgotten I'd told you that," he replied, "But take heart that Cuthbert Headley is not half as cunning as I am."

  All Charles wanted to do was reach Marianne's side. She had looked so beautiful as she'd come down to dinner that evening, the embodiment of a fairy in the flesh as she'd laughed easily for the first time since he'd rescued her. It was obvious that she truly believed herself to be safe, and that knowledge only served to weigh down his heart.

  He loved her.

  He loved her, and the thought of any harm coming to her filled him with a terrified rage he had never before experienced.

  It was more than that, though, for beneath that rage was a strange longing, a feeling of not quite being complete unless Marianne was by his side. He was slowly starting to realise that he had always felt this way, and while he had put the sense of discomfort down to missing his closest friend, he was now aware that at least half that emotion had been the result of missing Marianne.

  "Aunt Eustacia, I thought Marianne was staying with you until the dancing began," he said as he came upon her chatting amicably with Mr Swancoat.

  "Charles, my dear boy!" said Patience's father, looking a degree less terrified than he had upon arrival. "No need to worry, the girls went to the powder room to repair a torn dress."

  "They'll return any minute, my dear," added Aunt Eustacia.

  There was a snort of disgust from behind him, and he turned to see Ursula Swancoat, arm-in-arm with Theodosia, standing at the edge of the group.

  "They didn't go anywhere like the powder room," said Ursula. "They went to see one of your brothers. At least I assume it was one of them unless it was you and this is all a prank."

  Charles ignored the way Theodosia was batting her eyelashes at him and concentrated all his focus onto Patience's strange little sister.

  "Ursula, I need you to explain what you're talking about. Where are Patience and Marianne?"

  "I told you, with one of your brothers."

  He ran a tongue over his teeth as he tried desperately not to lose his temper.

  "Yes, but where are they?"

  Ursula gave a bored shrug. "How should I know? They were supposed to meet him at the hothouses half an hour ago, but they could be anywhere by now."

  "What are you talking about, girl?" said her father, becoming visibly agitated. "Patience isn't outside! She would not do so without my permission, and she knows how dangerous it is in the dark! The pwca might find her, or worse!"

  Ursula pushed Theodosia away from her and ignored everyone as she set about the task of soothing her father, claiming that she'd garbled the message up like she always did, and Patience was with Marianne in the parlour. Eustacia cast Charles a worried glance, but as Mr Swancoat had a tight grip on her hands, there was nothing she could do to help him.

  Charles could feel his pulse thundering in his eardrums as he walked blindly towards the room that had been set aside for the use of the ladies. He was barely halfway down the hall when a hand gripped his shoulder, and he looked up into the grim face of his brother, John.

  "The back porch, now," John said, and practically dragged him the rest of the way.

  It was cold outside, the air thick with the anticipation of rain yet to come. Harry was slumped in a chair while their mother tended to his neck with a compress.

  "What happened?" Charles demanded. "Where's Father?"

  "He's gone to fetch Phillips and the men," said John, every inch the soldier. Charles realised there was a pistol sheathed at his brother's hip, and his blood went cold.

  "I'm sorry, Charlie," whispered his youngest brother. "I came out back to see how things were going, and there was no footman on the back door. I stepped out in the gardens to see if he'd wandered off somewhere, and then something hit me from behind."

  "Marianne," Charles managed to choke out, and a look of shame crossed Harry's face.

  "She must have found me, Charlie, but I don't remember it. She put some foul-smelling salts under my nose to revive me, and then told me to make my way back here for help because Patience has been abducted by some ruffians. By the time my senses were together enough to understand what she was saying, she had already run off behind the hothouse, and didn't come back when I called."

  "We must set off at once," said Charles, that cold rage he'd been carrying finally taking form in his chest. "We must find her."

  "And Patience," said John, his expression dark. "I don't know why she was the one taken, but I'll break the neck of any fool who has laid a finger upon her."

  "You will both wait for your father," snapped Lady Putney with all the authority of being their mother. "If they went behind the hothouses, then the chances are the girls have been taken up to the folly. You won't be able to get up that path in one piece unless you have torches, and there's no saying how many men you might be up against."

  "Mother's right," croaked Harry. “Please, Charlie! I can't be responsible for anyone else getting hurt."

  "Fine," he snapped, pacing back and forth along the terrace as the wait seemed to last an eternity. "Damn it where are they?"

  *

  It was slow going up the woodland path, and Marianne resorted to using her hands as well as her feet to navigate the darkness. She could hear thunder in the distance and knew that the rain would begin to pour down any moment, making her walk even more treacherous than it already was.

  The man she was following was more sure-footed in his large boots, and he used a heavy walking stick to help him avoid tripping on roots or stones. Marianne guessed it was the same stick used to knock Harry, and perhaps Patience unconscious, and she knew that she would not survive a blow to the head from such a thing.

  So far she'd managed to stay hidden, and the wind whistling through the woodland muffled any noises she made. At first, when she'd understood that they were heading up to Fool's Errand, she'd considered t
urning back and going to get help, but then she'd caught a glimpse of Patience's face, deathly still, and been unable to leave her friend.

  Besides, Harry would get help. He would alert his father and brothers, and they'd bring Phillips and the workers right up the hill behind her, like the cavalry riding in to rescue them.

  What was taking them so long?"

  The rain began twenty minutes after she’d left the garden, and Marianne shivered in the cold. The man she was following cursed loudly, his voice confirming that this was no ordinary ruffian or thief, but the man in the blue greatcoat.

  She should have been afraid, or at the very least on the brink of tears, but Marianne's only emotion was a pure, white-hot rage.

  She hated this man for trying to abduct her and hated him even more for hurting her friend. She was angry at the rain for coming down so hard onto her freezing skin and was unreasonable angry at the woodland itself for every mark and tear being inflicted upon her beautiful dress.

  She wished Charlie were with her. Not that she could think of anything different he could do in the situation, but she'd long ago realised that things were just more comfortable when he was around her, like even the most terrible event would not be so bad if only he was at her side. She was angry about being alone, but not angry at Charlie. She wanted him so much it made her heart hurt to think of it.

  But Patience needed her.

  The man reached the Folly a few minutes later, and Marianne stayed crouched in the shadows of the trees. He banged loudly on the old oak door with his stick, and then propped it up against the crumbling plasterwork.

  "Let me in, yer flash cove. The rain's thundering down out here," the man growled as the door slowly jerked open, the rusty hinges squealing under the effort.

  Marianne could not see who stepped back to let him inside, but she could tell that there was no fire inside, and only a single candle that cast dancing light around the dusty interior. She saw the man in the man drop Patience to the floor as though she were no more important than kindling, and her rage flared to new heights.

  She glanced back down the path but could neither see nor hear anyone coming to help her.