Page 22 of A Lady’s Guide to Scoundrels and Gentlemen (The Harp & Thistle #1)

V ivian and Ollie agreed to keep the art restoration from Dantes for the time being. They didn’t want to get his hopes up that his artwork could be saved, only to find out it couldn’t be and let him down. So when they found Dantes and Victor upon returning, they acted as if they had gone through the new Pre-Raphaelite exhibition once more now that it wasn’t as crowded.

“Mr. Wegner stopped by.” Dantes shoveled a spoon into a bowl of mashed potatoes. “He excused the nurses now that I’m up, but it’ll be a few more days before he can take the stitches out. The blood loss should be fully recovered a month after the injury. Same with the bullet wound, as it was a muscle injury only. In other words, everything should be as good as new in a few more weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Vivian said with relief.

Victor jumped in. “Mr. Wegner also said Dantes was incredibly lucky the bullets only hit muscle. Bones, tendons, organs would have been much worse. Recovery could have taken up to a year.”

Dantes swallowed a bite of mashed potatoes. His appetite had returned with a vengeance as well, but he could only handle small amounts of food at a time. He had woken ravenous at nearly two in the morning. “None of what happened was lucky .”

Ollie rolled his eyes to Vivian and she had to suppress a smile.

“When will you be able to eat full meals again?” Vivian asked. She had not wanted to wake the servants at such a late hour simply to get the mashed potatoes made for him to eat throughout the day. Ollie, instead, fetched them without a thought. But also, she greatly missed Dantes’s presence at the dining table. Those first few days after the accident, none of them had eaten much, but since his recovery from fever, Vivian had had her meals with the healthy McNab brothers in the dining room and it felt empty without Dantes. It was unsettling as well because she would stare at empty chairs and remember how close they had been to losing him. Probably within hours, Mr. Wegner had said.

“He said I can try tomorrow, if my appetite is up for it. I can start walking around a bit too, as long as it doesn’t hurt too much. But honestly, all I want right now is a bath. I’ve never felt so disgusting in my life.”

“Oh,” Vivian said thoughtfully. “I don’t really want to wake Heaton or any of the footmen this time of night.” She looked expectantly at Victor.

Victor glowered back. “I’m not bathing my adult brother.”

“Well, I can’t do it. You didn’t even like me sleeping next to him above the covers.”

Ollie spoke next. “Yes, but that was different.”

Vivian gave a small laugh while Dantes watched the entire scene with amusement. “How is that not appropriate, but washing him is perfectly fine?”

Ollie grinned widely. “Because we don’t want to do it.”

But Victor wasn’t having it. “She’s right. I suppose I’ll do it, then.”

“No, no,” Vivian said in a singsong voice. “I don’t wish to upset your delicate sensibilities.” She motioned for Dantes to follow her and he began to slowly rise.

“But—”

“It’s already decided, Victor.” She gave him a triumphant smile, winning a severe frown in return. Deep down, though, she did want to be the one to help Dantes. And beyond that , the prospect of seeing Dantes lounging in a tub, bare chested and wet, was quite the temptation. Not that she could fully admit this to herself.

“Whom do you want to help you?” Victor, determined, shot the question to Dantes. “Me, or Ollie?”

“Vivian,” Dantes replied with a roguish grin.

Ollie let out a bark of laughter. Victor narrowed his eyes. “At least let me help you walk to the bathroom. If you fall into her, she’ll be crushed.”

*

As the large tub filled, Dantes watched it with wonder. He had heard about hotels and wealthy homes getting running water installed but had never seen a hot, running bath for himself. The late dowager duchess, Vivian had to explain, had put it in about a year ago as she’d started taking multiple baths per day to help with joint pain.

Pulling his attention away from the tub, Dantes tried his best to gently undress. They had never put a shirt back on him after his clothing had been cut off, but he remained in the same trousers as that fateful night. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him struggling.

“I’m here to help you.” She stepped up to him and looked into his face. “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help, Dantes.” She waited until he’d given her a small nod and glanced back down to the task. There were a few buttons on the front of his trousers he was struggling with. She should have been embarrassed to help with something like this, but the moment wasn’t exactly brimming with intimacy. Swallowing her nerves, she began unfastening each button.

If one of the servants woke and came in here, though, that would be the end of her reputation. Even Father wouldn’t be able to cover up servants’ gossip around something so scandalous. She pushed this thought aside.

“You can’t soak your stitches,” Vivian said, keeping her mind from focusing too closely on the task. “Keep that in mind when you get in.” Her heart was beating hard, and she looked up once more and found him watching her intently. His hand reached down and gently brushed against hers.

“I can finish these last few, if you’re uncomfortable,” he said in a low voice.

Taking in a sharp inhale, Vivian nodded and turned away, hearing the sound of rustling fabric.

“I can take those.” Over her shoulder, he handed her the clothing he had discarded. Vivian’s face heated.

Considering everything that had happened the day of the accident, and whatever was between them was as murky as ever, Vivian decided to take his trousers and fold them with more care than necessary, her eyes focusing solely on that task.

“I finally purged the chasers from my home,” she began, needing something other than heat and tension to fill the air. Her palms pressed a crease in the dark fabric. “Even after the accident, they continued flooding my receiving room. I was utterly mad with worry and exhaustion, and I finally went in there, screamed at them like a madwoman to get out, and swore if any of them ever returned, I’d send for the police.” From the corner of her vision, she could see Dantes staring at her. “It worked.”

“How did Crosby take that?”

With a bit of embarrassment, Vivian recalled that moment and cleared her throat. “He told me as a woman, I should be delicate. Not bellowing like a foghorn. I held up a fist and told him I’d show him delicate .”

Dantes made a choking sound and Vivian had to bite her cheek to not grin to herself.

Of course, it also decreased her marriage prospects, as now none of those men wanted anything to do with a woman who’d acted as she had, but she didn’t want to marry any of them, anyway.

She continued. “Poor Father has done his best to uphold my image despite his own irritation with me—he visited several times while you were asleep to ensure I was well with your brothers here—but everyone is having a lark gossiping about a woman who threatens to stick police on England’s most elite men.” She paused. “It does sound rather silly when said aloud.”

Dantes’s vague form went over to the sink. “Do they know I’m here? Or my brothers?”

Vivian swallowed. “No.”

“Does it bother you, that they talk about you like that?”

Vivian had to force her eyes to remain averted. “No one likes to be gossiped about. But it bothers me more when they talk about you . They laugh at me for being foolish, but I’ve heard what they say about you. And I don’t like it one bit.” Of course, she didn’t need to tell him what she’d heard because he’d been hearing it for years. Examples of what she’d overheard had been people calling him grotesque, the Devil, surmising he was a monster who lived beneath the London Bridge and came out to attack women at night. She’d overheard such comments from passersby while she’d walked into a shop to fetch new stockings and shoes. Or while at tea with a reacquainted friend, from the other women in attendance. It was clear these comments were whispered in such a way she could overhear. Anne had been hearing those comments as well, even when Vivian wasn’t around. Their words were appalling and upset her greatly. But she genuinely didn’t understand their contempt for him, either.

“Ignore them. That’s all you can do.” Dantes said this without any emotion, clearly numb now to their words. “I have a full-grown beard.” He chuckled at his reflection. “I look like a wild man, like I should be panning for gold in California.”

With his attention away from her, Vivian allowed herself a quick, safe glance of his towering profile. He had clearly lost weight, which caused a brief moment of worry, but his broad shoulders and arms remained rugged and strong.

Embarrassed of herself, she hurried to find soap Victor or Ollie used. “Truthfully, I think you look quite handsome with the beard. I hope you at least keep it for another day or two.”

Vivian felt his eyes bore into her as she turned off the bathtub faucet and set a bar of soap in the soap holder, a rather comfortably domestic moment, she thought.

“You like it?” he asked.

She crossed the bathroom to pull a clean washcloth and towel from a drawer in the built-in. “I do. Don’t do anything on account of me, of course, but I like when you have a bit of grit to you. At first, I thought I liked you polished like silver, but grit suits you much better. I think, at least.”

A strange stillness settled over the room. Had she said the wrong thing? “Well, you can climb in now.” She was eager to change the subject.

Moments later, water splashed, indicating Dantes had climbed into the tub. Knowing she should not turn around, she did anyway. Dantes sat hunched in the bath, wet up to his mid-back, and she observed his muscular forearms, the hair now dark from being wet.

He placed a hand under the running faucet. “I can hardly believe such novelty. Hot water with a mere twist of the wrist.”

“It is brilliant, isn’t it? Not even Father has it.”

Dantes let the water fall over his hand for a moment longer before leaning back. “I can’t believe you’ve been sleeping near me all this time,” he said with a hint of humor. “I smell something awful.”

She laughed. “Dantes, you could smell like a pig farm right now and I wouldn’t care. The only thing that matters is you’re here.” There were several different ways he could take those words, but she wasn’t going to clarify. Because, really, she meant all variations of it.

“Have you ever smelled a pig farm?” He was ignoring her comment.

“No.”

“You would keep several miles from me, then, if that were the case.” As she chuckled, he picked up the bar of soap. “What is this?”

After leaning forward a bit for a better look, she shrugged. “Victor’s or Ollie’s soap.”

He looked it over but held it out to her. “Can I use yours?”

She took it, one eyebrow lifting at his request. “You want to use my soap? Why?”

“I want to smell it. I have no memory of anything over the past week, but I somehow knew you were next to me each day and night. I’m curious if it was because of your scent.”

Not sure what to make of this, she grabbed a fresh pink bar for him and inserted humor into the moment. “You can keep this one for yourself. You’re quite hairy and I don’t want your man hair getting stuck on my soap.”

This made him laugh loudly, the happy sound echoing in the humid room, and for the briefest moment, her heart swelled. Dantes was safe and, bit by bit, returning to normal. A heaviness began to lift from her. She turned away, close to breaking out into tears.

No doubt oblivious to what she was going through, Dantes held the soap to his nose. “This is definitely you, my little rose.”

The floodgates broke and she began to sob loudly. She would have been fine if he hadn’t gone and said that .

“Blast, Vivian, I’m sorry.” Dantes’s voice was low and quiet now. He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry I scared you like that.”

She mumbled something watery and incoherent, keeping her back toward him.

“Victor told me you saw it happen.”

Vivian took in a deep, shaky breath, patting her face dry with a plush towel. “Yes.”

“Come here. I need to tell you something.”

Following his request, she crouched next to the bathtub. The hot, steamy room now smelled like roses. She watched Dantes scrub at his face with soapy water using the hand he could, but all his weary-eyed focus was on her. “That night, before I was knocked out, I thought I was going to die.”

“Oh, Dantes.” A sob rose again as hot tears stung her eyes.

He set the soap down on its holder and put his dripping-wet hand on hers resting on the edge of the bathtub. Her stomach fluttered at his touch. “You were the last thought I had before I lost consciousness, when I thought it was all over. I thought I would never see you again after being a foolish idiot. I have no idea what happened that day between us, and I know we can’t jump back in, either, but I’m not giving up yet. You wanted me to leave that day, but I’m not going to.” A pause. “I’m hoping you don’t still want me to, at least.”

Tears began to roll down her cheek and she wiped them away with her free hand. “No, I don’t. I don’t know what’s going on, either, but I want to figure it out, too.”

His strong, wet hand lifted to her cheek to wipe away new tears. “That didn’t really help, did it?”

They both laughed.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Dantes said after a moment’s hesitation.

Vivian held her breath, sensing in his voice something big was coming.

He pulled his hand away, leaving that empty feeling behind. “When I was twenty, Eleanor and I were seeing each other in secret because, as you know, Crosby and I weren’t exactly on good terms. People always say hate is such a strong word, but yes, that’s pretty appropriate here. And because Crosby hated me, by default so did their parents. I don’t think they would have been fond of me anyway, but Crosby’s hate of me made it an easier decision, I suppose.”

A droplet fell from the faucet, sending ripples over the still water. “Anyway, we got engaged and I tried to convince her to elope, knowing her family wouldn’t approve of us. But Eleanor wouldn’t, even though she knew my history with her brother, and convinced herself her parents would love anyone she loved.

“Of course, she was wrong, and one afternoon after classes, I received a hastily written note from her ending it. No explanation, no apology, only that it was over. I hadn’t even known she’d been going to tell them, just that she’d wanted to.”

“Oh, dear,” Vivian replied, dread banding her stomach.

“That night…” Dantes trailed off, and the air seemed to thicken. He motioned toward his throat. “I can still feel the grass against my neck. Crosby pulled me from my bed in the middle of the night, gagged me, and with the help of his weasels, dragged me out to the grounds in front of our building. He kicked the back of my knees to knock me down and the weasels laid me out flat and held down my arms and legs so I couldn’t fight back.” Another pause. “Crosby revealed a knife. I thought he was going to kill me at first. He placed the tip of the blade over my heart, pushed it just enough for it to hurt but not enough to pierce skin, and slowly twisted it back and forth as he threw out rhetorical questions like, ‘ Who would find you here? Who would even care? ’”

Vivian swallowed. He must have been so frightened.

“He then placed the blade to my face, told me Eleanor would never marry a Paddy, that I should go back to the slums where my mother had known I belonged. But above all, he wanted to mark me to make sure women could see what I really was beneath the nice clothes, that they would always look at me with disgust. He wanted to make sure no one would ever love me again. And with the entirety of his strength, Crosby sliced across my face, torturously slow, and left me to bleed in the grass.”

Vivian gasped.

“I’m lucky I didn’t lose an eye.” Dantes stared across the room with a vacant expression. “And he smiled when he did that, too. It took years to not see that horrific smile in my nightmares.” His attention returned to her, and life seemed to lift in his eyes. “But a month later, I got my revenge. I beat him so badly, he missed an entire semester of university. I did it in between classes so everyone could see it happen. I’m not going to lie, Vivian. It felt really good and to this day, I don’t regret doing it.”

“Is that the fight that got you kicked out?”

Dantes nodded.

“Did Mr. Crosby get kicked out, too?” Surely, he had been! How could Mr. Crosby do something so horrific and never receive punishment?

But Dantes laughed sardonically. “Absolutely not. He never once got in trouble for anything he did to me.”

“Did his parents go to the police?”

“They threatened to but ended up covering up the whole thing. I don’t know what truly happened, but I wouldn’t be surprised if my grandfather had something to do with it. He and I may not like each other much, and my relationship with my grandparents was pretty much over after that event, but the man is absolutely terrifying when he wants to be. And I’m sure wanted the whole mess over with.”

A sick realization came over Vivian. “That’s why you called Mr. Crosby the worst of them all, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I was not about to let Crosby, of all people, take you away.”

Vivian’s lip quivered. Dantes had exposed the rawest, most vulnerable part of him, a part of him that may never fully heal. He trusted her wholly, and it was a gift she held dear.

Now wasn’t the time to bring this up, but Vivian decided right then and there to bring Dantes to Brighton for the summer. There was plenty of room at Summerwood for him and her family. They could finally spend time together, good time together and not her seeking someone else or recovering from injury. They could figure out what was going on between them.

Perhaps, dare she even think it, start planning a future.

Though she was getting far ahead of herself, the thought sent a rush through her. A future.

Could it be possible?

Plus, it would be good for him to get away for a few months after the fire. And it would work out well with Gran’s timeline. Vivian was nearly halfway through the year Gran had set for her. And time was flying by.

“But I have to live with the reminder every day,” Dantes continued in a quieter voice, bringing Vivian back to the present. “Every time I see myself, I remember the raw terror I felt that day. And I’ll never get used to how people react to my face. It could be off of my mind in the moment, but then someone will gasp when they come up to the bar for a drink. I know it’s surprising to them and they usually don’t mean anything by it, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.” He moved to rest his arm on the edge of the tub. “I wouldn’t blame you, Viv, if you didn’t want me around because of it. If you’re with me, it will affect you too. You would experience those same stares, those same comments, everywhere we go.”

“I’ve already had those stares and comments. My only concern is it bothers you . Otherwise, they can go eat dirt.”

But he didn’t find her comment funny and confessed something heartbreaking. “I’m afraid that someday, you’ll see me the way they see me.”

She searched his eyes. “Dantes, you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life. When people say such ugliness, I truly don’t understand what it is they see. You are lovely.” Her finger gently traced the scar. It was smooth and warm. “It’s a part of you, and I wouldn’t want anything about you to change.”

Dantes’s green-eyed gaze softened, and tears began to well.

*

After their tender discussion, Vivian helped Dantes wash his hair and disappeared to fetch him clean clothes. It left him briefly with his thoughts, and how her kindness and words hugged his dark and broken heart.

Once more, he took her soap from the soap dish, put it under his nose, and inhaled her scent.

There was no longer any question that the affection he felt for Vivian was far beyond being merely smitten. Vivian brought a lightness to him, to his heart and soul. Joy. That morning, he’d awoken in immense pain, yet he’d also felt peace simply because she’d been the first sight he’d seen when he’d opened his eyes.

He wanted to wake up like that every day.

But he didn’t know how to make that happen.

Because to Dantes, the gunshots and the carriage accident were further proof he was unlucky and loving him was dangerous. No one had believed him, but he’d known something would happen after Ollie had said those cursed words.

And he’d been right.

For whatever reason, bad luck still followed Dantes, and those three little words remained cursed. If something happened to Vivian because of him, he would never forgive himself.

He wouldn’t survive. That’s the only certainty he held about that.

Vivian returned and did her best to help him redress while keeping her eyes properly averted. Well, as proper as one could in the situation. Dantes found her concern about propriety a little endearing.

There was no point in putting a shirt on yet, as it would only cause him discomfort. And as he needed to begin moving around more during the day, they began to slowly walk up and down the hallway together, arm in arm for balance.

Meanwhile, Victor and Ollie stood nearby, wanting to be close just in case.

As they had to walk quite slowly, Vivian updated Dantes about the previous week to keep his mind off how terrible he still felt.

“Anne asked Bernard for a separation and my father forced him out of their house,” Vivian explained. “It’s rather curious. I didn’t know it was something she had been seriously pursuing, and my father’s involvement causes me pause. I tried asking my father what had happened, but he refused to indulge my curiosity and told me it was none of my affair.”

“A separation?” Dantes paused momentarily. He didn’t know Lady Litchfield well, but in their limited interactions, she’d seemed like a sweet woman. That her husband’s father had come in to swoop up his son was curious. Had something happened? Or was he simply being supportive?

Victor’s dark voice interrupted. “Tell him about the visit.”

Dantes caught Vivian glaring at Victor. “Tell me.” Dantes spoke a bit harsher than he’d meant to. But clearly, the visit had concerned Victor enough he thought Dantes should know about it.

Vivian sighed. “One of the days after your accident, my brother showed up quite drunk and angry—”

“He better not have laid a hand on you.” Dantes’s hands twitched at the thought.

“No,” Victor replied. “I made sure of it.”

Dantes met his brother’s eye, giving him a nod of thanks.

“Anyway,” Vivian said loudly to get his attention back, “Bernard blamed me for the separation, then asked me for money. An exorbitant amount I won’t even tell you.”

Dantes frowned deeply.

“I only gave him two hundred pounds.”

Only? He pushed that thought away. Her money was her business. But her brother taking advantage of her? That was absolutely his concern. “He’s taking advantage of you. He’s using you, Vivian.”

Her gaze faltered. “That’s what Victor said, too.”

“He was right. And so am I.”

And she surprised him. “I know. I’m not giving him anything more. He was so broken when he showed up, though, and he’s my brother and needed my help. No matter what he has done, I still love him, you understand?”

No, he didn’t understand. But kept his mouth shut on that.

“I think this summer will be good for him. Summerwood is such a happy place. It will lift his mood immensely.”

So, Winthrop was still going to be in Brighton that summer. Dantes had never really liked the man, but after everything he’d just heard, the final shred of respect for the cad as Vivian’s family fell away. Dantes thought Winthrop was nothing more than an idiotic scoundrel. But the man’s behavior was becoming more erratic, unpredictable, desperate. It was escalating. To what, he couldn’t say. But the idea of Winthrop having months to hurt and manipulate Vivian without Dantes there to protect her was concerning.

At least Vivian had come to accept Winthrop had been using her, so hopefully, she would pick up on anything her sneaky brother would try. All Dantes could do was hope her two hundred pounds satisfied the greedy man and marked the end of his deception. What remained to be seen was if the separation would cause Winthrop to try to improve himself to win back his family, or multiply his behavior and destruction. And Dantes had a sick feeling it would be the latter.