Page 16 of A Lady’s Guide to Scoundrels and Gentlemen (The Harp & Thistle #1)

T he three McNab brothers sat together in Victor’s parlor after a heavy dinner. It had been yet another day of demolition, and the nearly two months since the fire were starting to blur together. Victor’s housekeeper ensured the cook prepared a feast for the starving men that would rival a twelve-person multi-course meal. Now full and satiated, they sat with whiskeys, regarding each other in exhausted silence. In the last few days, Dantes had noticed Victor was out of sorts, more so than usual. His worst characteristics—his broodiness, lack of humor, general bitterness—had only worsened. As Dantes was still reeling from the days-old news that Victor’s greed had screwed him over with insurance, and his brother’s lack of care over the blasted fireworks led to losing irreplaceable possessions, he had no sympathy for his anguished older brother and found he really didn’t much care what had caused his mood.

Ollie’s voice cut into the heavy silence. “I’m thinking about crossing the pond and joining up with the Barnum however, the conversation quickly died again. But unlike Dantes, Ollie clearly couldn’t stand the silence and began talking again. “So, what is the news with Lady Vivian?”

Dantes took a hasty sip of whiskey, wishing the conversation had gone any other direction. “Not sure. Haven’t talked to her in a few weeks.”

Ollie tilted his head. “I thought you wrote to one another twice a day.”

“Not anymore.” Not with the way they’d parted last, when he’d visited her. When he’d kissed her, and then she’d all but kicked him out. Dantes shoved the memory away.

“I see. Are you going to meet her at the flower show tomorrow, then?”

Why had he made the mistake in telling Ollie about that? “No.”

“Why not?”

Dantes let out a frustrated sigh. “Christ, Ollie.”

“ I’ll meet her, then.”

Dantes glowered but didn’t have a retort.

So, Ollie continued. “I’ll take her, charm her, entice her home with sweet words under the starlight. Since you aren’t staying with me, that shouldn’t be an issue.” He grinned in his usual easy-going manner. “Do her kisses taste like strawberries? Or mint? Personally, I think she looks more like the strawberry sort.”

Red rage exploded and Dantes dove over to Ollie, pulling him up from his chair and off the floor by the front of his shirt. Veins popped out of Dantes’s neck and Ollie responded with a cool gaze and a smug smile. Dantes realized in this moment he’d been had and released his brother. He pointed an angry finger at Ollie. “You’re lucky you’re not dead,” he said with a growl.

Ollie rolled his shoulders at being let go. “I was testing my theory. Which stands, by the way. Especially after that.”

“What theory?” Victor had decided to finally join in this family discussion.

Ollie looked over to him. “That Dantes is in love with Lady Vivian.”

Victor eyed Dantes from his chair but didn’t say anything further.

“The funny thing about your theory,” Dantes said as he turned to Ollie with resentment, “is you’re the last man in all of Europe who would know what love is.”

Ollie’s eyes flashed darkly, but he covered it up with a laugh. “And why is that, Dantes?”

Dantes wouldn’t say it, but Victor had no problem doing so. “It’s because you’re a whore, Ollie.” The words came out so easily, even Dantes felt the knife.

For a moment, Ollie stared with a bit of shock, but it didn’t render him silent. Not for long, at least. He did, however, turn his back to Victor and rose up to Dantes, all humor gone from his face, his own green eyes McNab wild. “Fine, I like women. I think they’re beautiful, and I can’t get enough of them. But you want to know something else? I only take women who want exactly what I want, who know what our relationship entails—a few tumbles in the sheets and that’s it. I don’t take women who want more than that. Unlike you, Dantes, I don’t deceive and mess with their hearts and heads. Maybe I’m a whore, but I’m still a better man than you.” And without another word, he left the room, the townhouse’s front door slamming shut behind him seconds later.

Victor pressed his fingertips together in evident thought, ignoring everything that had just happened. “Whatever you do, Dantes, don’t make Lady Vivian angry. Not yet anyway.”

Dantes was still staring at the spot Ollie had vacated. “Sorry?”

“Don’t make her angry. I need her help with something.”

This got his full attention. “Absolutely not.”

But Victor ignored him. “The insurance payout for the fire damage isn’t going to be enough to cover everything. I need to get a loan and they are difficult to get, especially with an inoperable and damaged business.”

Dantes couldn’t believe his ears. “You want her money?”

Victor let out an irritated sigh and tented his fingers together over his lap. “I don’t want her personal money, Dantes. I want to talk to her about getting help with a loan. That lot is always cozy with banks. I need her father to vouch for us if she can convince him.”

Dantes gave him an exasperated look—he couldn’t deal with this new load of rubbish from Victor right now—and went outside to find Ollie before he got too far. Fortunately, his younger brother was standing out on the sidewalk with his hands shoved into his pockets, staring up at the moon. Dantes took the spot at Ollie’s side, and for a while, neither of them said anything.

“Victor shouldn’t have said that,” Dantes finally said.

Ollie didn’t respond.

“And I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” It was the most any of them would have said. “Well, I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

“Why does it even matter to you?” It was something Dantes had been wondering. Ollie had never cared about any of the women Dantes had courted casually before. Why did he care so much now? Why was he so involved?

“Because I like Lady Vivian,” Ollie replied. “And the way you are with her, I’ve never seen you like that before. At the ball, you didn’t let your eye off her and I accused you of being jealous then. But at the museum? You were bleeding all over the floor with jealousy over the lads she was talking to! I went there to watch you, admittedly for my own amusement, but your behavior took me aback. The entire time you were off to the side like some vigilant, spiteful gargoyle.” Ollie imitated Dantes leaning against the wall, glowering and growling.

“I don’t look like that.”

Ollie merely lifted one eyebrow.

“And she was talking to someone who beat a woman. Yeah, I was vigilant and angry about it.”

“You were jealous.”

Dantes scoffed, shaking his head.

“Look, you’re my brother.” Ollie stared off into the distance. “I don’t want to see you mess your life up because you’re afraid of something. That’s all.”

Dantes laughed. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

But Ollie didn’t find it amusing. He crossed his arms and gave Dantes a sidelong look. “Yes, you are. If Lady Vivian marries someone else, would you accept it?”

“No.” Dantes surprised himself by admitting this aloud.

“Then do you want her to marry you?”

Dantes didn’t respond. Because the truth was, being faced with this question by his own brother, he didn’t know. For so long, he’d been steadfast in his wish to never marry. It wasn’t even a question anymore at his age—it was a solid fact of his life. But he had to admit that Vivian was making him at least question that decision. He didn’t want her to marry anyone else, but did he want her to marry him?

Ollie let out a long sigh. “This is what I mean. You’re going to ignore the question at hand until it’s too late. You may have all the time in the world to get used to the idea, but she doesn’t. While you’re hemming and hawing about whether or not you’re really in love with her, someone else will come along and sweep her away and then for the rest of your life, you’ll have to live with your own stupidity. So. You either admit to yourself that you want more from her and talk to her about it tomorrow, or leave her alone. If you can’t do either thing for yourself, then at least do it for her.”

Dantes glowered. He was going to have to go to the infernal flower show.

After a long bout of silence, Ollie turned to him. “I’m going home, and I better not see you tomorrow.”

“You won’t.” Dantes spoke as if his insistence didn’t hold all the answers to Ollie’s irritating questions.

And Ollie grinned wide in understanding, waving down a passing hansom cab. He put his hand on the large wheel and informed the driver of his address. But he didn’t climb in yet. “Good.” Ollie looked back to Dantes, still gripping the wheel. “Now, earlier you said I couldn’t know what love is because I—”

“Look, Ollie—”

“No, listen. I just wanted to say I know what it is because I love you . And I love Victor, when he’s not being this way, at least. I know we don’t say that, but I decided I’m going to now.” And before Dantes could react, before he could stop his brother, Ollie climbed in and the hansom left.

Terror thrummed through Dantes as he watched his baby brother disappear, the fear quickly replaced by dread when he was completely out of sight. Because anyone who had ever said those words to him, he ended up losing. Sometimes through death.

*

Dantes found Vivian at the Jensen Gardens exhibition, where she asked him to meet her if he decided to go. Immediately, he understood why she had picked it—Jensen was a rose breeder.

The exhibition was large, with numerous rosebushes for sale, but they were set up in a way where it looked like an actual ornamental rose garden at an expensive botanical garden. There were so many different colors and sizes, and with hundreds of rose plants together, the air smelled heavenly.

Vivian meandered in a pink-and-white day dress with a matching parasol to protect her from the hot sun. Dantes took a moment to watch her in her element, solitude and roses, and noted how happy she was amongst the flowers. Occasionally, she stopped to observe the plants, smell the blossoms, or gently pet the petals like a cat with a finger. A white-haired gentleman—Dantes assumed Mr. Jensen himself—approached Vivian and they began to converse. He gave her a cut, yellow rose and they began to study and discuss it in great detail, though Dantes couldn’t hear what they said.

He approached. Vivian stilled as she set eyes upon him and smiled widely, clearly surprised by his arrival.

“Dantes!” she called out to him. “Come see Mr. Jensen’s newest rose. He named it Lady Luck.” When Dantes reached her she tipped the bloom to him so he could smell it for himself, then brought it back to her own nose with a smile just for him, sending his heart aflutter.

“Very nice,” Dantes replied, not sure what else to say. It was yellow, and it smelled like a rose. But he also knew it would make her happy to hear he liked it and if smelling one rose made her happy, then he would happily put three hundred of them to his nose for her.

“The blooms,” Mr. Jensen began, “open as a deep butter yellow, but as they age, they fade to cream. When you have a mature plant covered in flowers, they’re of many different shades of yellow and it looks quite beautiful.”

Vivian gushed over the new rose. “When I plan out a new rose garden, Lady Luck will definitely find a home there.”

Mr. Jensen smiled at her kindly and turned to Dantes. “Lady Vivian’s mother was once a member of the rose society, of which I am the current president. She had a most impressive rose garden at her home that I know Lady Vivian adored as a child.”

Vivian smiled at this. “My father will never rid of it. It’s his favorite part of the garden, in fact. I never knew my mother, but we feel her presence there.”

“I can understand that.” Dantes held her gaze. “Personally, roses will remind me of you for the rest of my life.”

Vivian’s smile fell away, her cheeks blushing at these words as Mr. Jensen chuckled knowingly. “Ah, so you are smitten with Lady Vivian, are you?”

“Yes. Rather smitten, actually.” He didn’t look away from her, and Vivian’s blush turned scarlet.

“I shall leave you two to your flower show, then.” Mr. Jensen began to walk away. “And, Lady Vivian, please let us know if we can help with your garden at all.” He gave her a friendly nod and went to speak to other show attendees.

Vivian turned back to Dantes. “What has gotten into you?”

Before he’d found Vivian, Dantes had noted a tunnel made up of archway after archway of a symphony of flowers. He took Vivian’s hand in his, to her utter surprise, and began leading her in the direction of it. “Nothing has gotten into me. Why do you ask?”

She gave him a sidelong glance but didn’t respond to the question. “There’s a butterfly garden here somewhere I’d like to see at some point. Water plants, too, featuring giant lily pads.”

“Whatever you wish to see today, Vivian, we shall see it.”

She regarded him again with vague disbelief but continued to keep her thoughts to herself.

“Your mother’s rose garden,” he continued. “Is that why you like roses so much?”

“You noticed that? Yes, though now it’s partly out of habit. Her rose garden was a mainstay of my childhood, and as I became older, I found myself naturally drawn to them. Soap, perfume, cut flowers—”

“And you put them in your hair, too, sometimes.” He looked down at her as he said this, squeezing her hand.

She blinked back and her mouth fell open for a beat. “Yes. That too.” A pause. “I sometimes feel strange that I have this connection to my mother through her favorite flower. Like a fraud, I suppose. I have absolutely no memory of her, nor does Bernard, yet I speak of her as if she held a place in my life.”

“She did, though. I have more memories of my mother as a laudanum addict than healthy, but that doesn’t negate who she was before.”

“What was she like?”

“Like Ollie, now that I think of it. Good natured. In a good mood, even when they’re truly not.”

They both laughed, but guilt hit him again for the way he’d spoken to Ollie last night. He knew Victor found their brother frustrating for being so laid-back, and he knew Victor blamed it on Ollie never having to struggle. Dantes, personally, never really knew what to make of Ollie’s stark difference to Dantes and especially Victor. He supposed he blamed the same cause as Victor—it did make sense. But in talking about this with Vivian, he realized that might not truly be the case, or at least the full explanation. Ollie may have inherited their mother’s nature, as she’d been quite similar. The two of them probably would have been inseparable if she hadn’t died.

“Your father’s death took her, Dantes. She was gone long before the laudanum. And it doesn’t define her.”

His chest tightened at her thoughtfulness, so he put the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it, winning a shy smile in return.

As they reached the tunnel of flowers, he led her inside and noted with relief that, at least for the moment, they were alone. Surrounding them were bursts of purples and pinks and yellows, like they had stepped inside of a rainbow, and the sun peaked through to throw dappled shadows across them and the ground. Dantes turned to Vivian and took the Lady Luck rose from her. He brought it to his nose again before brushing the soft petals to her cheek. “I meant what I said to Mr. Jensen. For the remainder of my life, anytime I see or smell a rose, I’ll think of you. Think of your voice, your laughter. Hopefully, you’ll be next to me as I think about that.”

Her eyes searched his face.

“Do you know why that is, Vivian?”

She swallowed. “Why, Dantes?”

He set the yellow rose back in her hand. “Unfortunately”—Dantes looped a stray lock of hair behind her ear—“I can no longer uphold my end of our deal. I cannot help you find a husband. Because I don’t want you to marry someone else.”

She blinked. “You don’t?”

“No. Truthfully, I can’t even stomach the idea of it.” He ended this with a crooked grin.

“What are you saying?”

But as she waited for his response, Dantes found he couldn’t say it. He wanted to—he wanted to more than anything—but it was as if there were a wall between his mind and his voice. And as the seconds passed, his heart began to sink down into a watery abyss as he watched the moment with helplessness.

“Dantes.”

He didn’t respond.

“Do you love me?” Vivian’s voice was quiet, private.

He looked down to the ground, crestfallen at his cowardice. “Last night, Ollie surprised me by telling me he loved me. None of us have ever said that before.”

“Why not?”

“Because when those words are said, we lose people.”

She frowned. “How?”

“I’m incredibly unlucky—have you not realized that? Look at my life. The fire is only the most recent event of many and it won’t be the last. And that bad luck, for whatever reason, particularly extends to those I love. When those three little words are said, I always lose the person who says the phrase. It’s to the point that I’m too afraid to even say it myself. My mother and father died.” He stopped for a moment. “My grandparents took us in, only to send us off to boarding school right after they said it. Victor said it once in his life, then ran off at sixteen to be on his own and work on the docks. Eleanor said it and then…” He sighed. “Well, I’m glad we didn’t end up getting married to her, but it was hard to go through that. But ever since Ollie said it last night, I’ve been terrified something is going to happen to him. I just know something will.”

“Nothing is going to happen to him because he said three words, Dantes.” Vivian began to spin the rose stem between her fingers. “After the fire, I saw Mrs. Gifford while I was at a millinery. I had a coughing fit and she immediately knew I’d been at the fire with you.”

He frowned. He didn’t like this.

“She went out of her way to warn me you refused to say those words. I wasn’t even sure if I should believe her because why would anyone refuse to say that? But it was true, wasn’t it?”

“What else did she tell you?” Who did Eleanor think she was, stepping into his life like that?

“Nothing. Why? What else would she tell me?”

He looked away, afraid she could somehow see the story in his face, though the remains of it were there.

Vivian let out a sigh, no doubt understanding he wasn’t going to discuss it further. “Well, Dantes, I hate to tell you this, but I must insist you say the words if that’s how you feel.”

“Vivian, I can’t.”

Her face fell. “You’re really that serious about it? You won’t say it to me?” Her voice cracked.

He reached up to cradle her cheek. “But if I feel it, isn’t that all that matters?”

“No.” She suddenly pulled away from him. “All it tells me is you’re a phony!”

His heart nearly stopped. “What?”

Chillingly, her face remained calm. “You don’t want anyone else to have me, but you don’t love me, either, and you don’t want to marry me. You want to use me. I guess I shouldn’t really be upset with you—you’ve been clear from the beginning what you wanted and obviously, that wouldn’t change with me. Blast it all. I got myself too swept up in you, too swept up in a scoundrel .” She said that word as if it were filth.

“I’m not a scoundrel, Vivian.” Surely, she didn’t really believe that? Think he was the worst kind of man, the type of man she hated and desperately wanted to avoid?

But she scoffed and readjusted her hold on the parasol. “Oh, please, Dantes. How else do you know the worst secrets of all of those men?”

“Because people talk about it at my pub. Some of them tell me directly, too.”

“You must think I’m painfully stupid. No, it’s because you go to the same brothels, because you gamble with them. Stop trying to convince me otherwise. Although I do believe you that you all discuss your womanly conquests over beer and whiskey.”

He stood there in shock.

“By the way…” She pulled something out of her dress pocket, shoving the scrap of black lace he’d thought he had lost at him. “You dropped this at my house when you came over last week. Do you carry this around with you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Why?” She waited a while for a response she wouldn’t get. Her one final effort.

Vivian looked him straight in the eye as she broke him. “My search for a husband continues, then.”