Page 13 of Kidnapped (The Browns of Butcher’s Hill #1)

A listair Wiest was pounding his fist on his desk and shouting at the staff standing in front of him. Virginia had woken late in the morning, had some toast and tea, and dropped back to sleep for another hour. It was near noon now and she had risen, wondering where Colleen was, dressed herself, brushed her hair, and was on the staircase when she heard her father’s bellows. She opened the office door and stepped inside, no one in the room noticing her, and she understood why considering the volume of her father’s voice.

“When I tell you I do not want Miss Wiest leaving this house unless she is going to the cannery, the dressmaker, or the cobbler, I mean it. No where else. She is to go nowhere else, and even then she will be attended by Miss Hughes, Mr. Turnbull, and Jones. Is that clear?”

“Miss Hughes?” Virginia said. Mr. Smith, Jones, Colleen, Mr. Turnbull, and Mrs. French turned in unison, and her father straightened.

“Ginny! You should be in bed,” he blustered.

“Miss Hughes?” she repeated.

“Yes, miss.”

“Please have my trunks brought down from the attic. We will depart in two days. Is that enough time for you to visit your family?”

“Depart? Depart? Ginny! You’ve not even recovered! I don’t know if a holiday?—”

“Not a holiday, Father. I’m going to move to New York and live with Aunt Essie. She has always made it known I was welcome there for a visit or an extended stay. Or even a permanent one.”

“Now, Ginny...” her father said.

“Pack everything, Miss Hughes, and have Betsy help you pack your own things. We will be gone for some time.”

Virginia went out the door, and the rest of the staff followed her, although none would meet her eye. She could hear her father telling her to come back to his office, but she kept walking, climbing the stairs, until she was in her room. She sat down at her desk, prepared to write to her widowed Aunt Essie, who would undoubtedly take her in, happy for the company and to have family in her household. But the tears in her eyes kept her from writing one word.

How utterly foolish she’d been! No wonder her father meant to keep her a prisoner. She’d received a note and an invitation to meet at a ball, not even certain it was Geoffrey’s handwriting and knowing that he often dabbled in gray areas concerning the law, at a home she’d never been to by a hostess she’d never met. And she went alone. Without Colleen, who always gave wise counsel, or Mr. Turnbull. Someone had lured her there with that note she believed was from Geoffrey, most likely over something that was overheard at the Waters ball, exactly as he had predicted.

Virginia recognized that much worse could have happened to her other than falling asleep on a couch, and it made her stomach roll over, imagining drastic and horrible outcomes.

But worst of all, the absolute most embarrassing result was that Phillip Brown had to rescue her. He’d seen the foolishness of her actions. She was not sure she could face him after all the warnings he’d given her. She remembered arriving at the ball, wandering around, and little after that until she woke and found him kneeling by her bed, his face earnest and serious, and maybe frightened. She could never admit to him that all of her worries and fright and confusion melted away when she saw his face. She would have to send him a note, thanking him for her rescue and letting him know she’d no longer be a dangerous burden to him. Was she committing another rash act to assuage her guilt? Perhaps. But she could not be hedged in with nursemaids, as her father intended. She’d told herself she was going to be more outgoing, more involved, and she intended to do just that whether in Baltimore or New York City.

Colleen tapped at her door. “Miss Wiest. Mr. Wiest is asking you to please meet him in the parlor. He is very upset, miss.”

She supposed this was inevitable, and she did not want to leave on unhappy terms with her father, but she would not be restricted to the locations he listed. “I’ll go down in a moment, Colleen. I just need to rinse my face.”

She stepped into the parlor a few moments later. Her father jumped to his feet.

“Ginny!”

“Father,” she said and sat down.

“What of this nonsense about moving to Essie’s?”

“It is not nonsense. I fully admit I made poor choices?—”

“Poor choices? You could have been murdered!”

“I admit I did not think this through,” she said and held up a hand when he began to interrupt again. “But I will not be a prisoner. I am twenty-six years old.”

“I’m your father, Ginny. It’s my job to keep you safe. I can’t do that if you are off wandering around Baltimore!”

She stood. “Very well. You are relieved of your duties. I’ll be leaving in two days.”

He was shouting behind her as she left the room and left a piece of her heart as well. She loved her father. Adored and respected him. But this was too far, and she had warned him several times before. The limitations on her movements she could not tolerate, nor should she have to. She wrote the letters she had to write and packed her trunks with Colleen’s help.

Phillip received a note from Miss Wiest in the morning at the cannery that she was well, thanks to him, and leaving Baltimore. She was moving away from Shellington, from her father, and from him, even if he had no claim on her. Just a few minutes later, Mr. Wiest sent for him, and he was mightily glad Mr. Everly was out of the office at the time.

“Yes, sir. What can I help you with?” he said as soon as he heard Mr. Wiest’s voice call him to enter. He was shocked when he walked up to his desk. Phillip had never seen the owner look so unhappy, nearly defeated. His eyes were red, as if he’d not had enough sleep, and his shoulders were slumped as he leaned on his desk.

“Sit down, Brown,” he said.

Phillip waited silently as the man shuffled papers on his desk and alternately stared out the window. He felt much like his employer looked, trying to process why Virginia Wiest was leaving town and why it mattered so very much to him.

“Ginny did something stupid and dangerous, and I in turn did something stupid,” he said without looking up at Phillip.

“Her note to me said she was feeling fine, sir. Is she well?”

Wiest nodded. “She says she’s moving to New York, and I mean to stop her,” he said. “Somehow.”

“She said as much in the note to me, sir. I’m . . . I’m very sorry to hear that.”

Finally, Wiest looked up at him. “Well, you’re my last hope, Brown. Do you think you can convince her to stay? She’ll barely speak to me.”

He could not imagine her leaving her beloved father on a whim. Something must have happened. “Did the two of you have an argument, sir?”

Wiest shrugged. “I don’t see how that makes much of a difference.”

“I can hardly go and try and convince her to stay if I don’t know everything that led up to her making this decision. I hardly have any influence regardless. I’m not a family member or a longtime friend.”

“She likes you. She trusts you.”

Phillip’s face turned red, thinking of her reaction to him saying he didn’t trust her. He wasn’t worthy of her friendship, but there was no doubt he would miss her greatly. “I can stop at Shellington after my shift, sir. I owe her an apology anyway.”

“An apology? Why?”

“When I was hurt last week, Miss Wiest came to see me to tell me she’d found something out about where Miss Adamsen’s son was being held. My sister told her that I needed to be at work the following day as Mr. Everly had said in a note. Miss Wiest was going to speak to him on my behalf and I . . . well, I was rude to her and told her not to, and then she said she wouldn’t, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and told her I didn’t trust her not to.”

Wiest looked up at him with raised brows. “So we were both angry fools. Angry and frightened.”

“She just seems so fragile, sir. She isn’t. She’s clever and persistent. But the idea that one of these monsters would get their hands on her... I can’t think straight...” He trailed off, staring aimlessly toward the bay through the large window at Mr. Wiest’s back.

“Will you talk to her?”

He nodded. “I owe her that apology before she goes—unless I can talk her out of leaving me,” he said and looked up quickly. “Leaving you, sir.”

“Do your best and go now, please.”

“Mr. Everly will not be happy with me, and I’m not in his good graces at the moment.”

Wiest shook his head. “I’m well aware of Altimus’s behavior toward you. It will not be any worse than you are able to handle, Mr. Brown. Businessmen must be able to handle all sorts of people and situations. Do your best, and you will be fine.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Phillip knocked on the door at Shellington after cleaning up some paperwork and speaking to his assistant, Clyde Spellman. Smith was cordial, but it was clear the house was in turmoil.

“Is Miss Wiest in, Mr. Smith?”

“She is,” he said hesitantly.

Phillip glanced at the marble staircase he had recently climbed with her in his arms. “I’m hoping she’ll have a moment to speak to me.”

“Yes, sir. Let me check.”

Phillip waited fifteen minutes or more, if his watch was accurate. Finally, Mr. Smith came back to the vaulted foyer, his cheeks red. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Brown. Miss Wiest is very busy and?—”

He climbed the steps two at a time, past the butler’s protests. At the top, he looked left and right, not quite remembering which direction he’d carried her that night and saw servants carrying trunks from a room near the end of the hallway. He went swiftly that direction, past servants who were staring at him, turning their heads to follow his path. He saw Miss Hughes and stopped.

“Is she in there?”

“Mr. Brown! These are the private family rooms.”

And then there she was in the doorway of her rooms, looking cross, her hair untidy and her hands full of some lacy garments that he did not want to think about.

“Mr. Brown. Did Smith not tell you I was busy?”

“He did. But I’ve got something to say to you, and I won’t be put off, especially as you’re leaving town, maybe permanently.”

“I’m not sure how long we’ll be in New York, but it may well be an extended time.”

Phillip was aware that even though the servants surrounding them acted as if they were not paying any attention, he wasn’t going to say what he had to say in front of an audience. “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”

She turned away, and for a moment he thought she may refuse to speak to him at all, but shortly after, several maids left the room.

“I’ll just be a few moments, Colleen,” she said and signaled him to follow her into her rooms.

He walked past Miss Hughes, who stared at him as if he were the lowliest human in the state of Maryland, to find himself in a sitting room decorated in pink and cream. He must have walked through here when he carried her home, but he remembered little of it; he’d been so concentrated on laying her down on her own bed with her own people. Thinking about all of those gawking men made him sick with anger.

She closed the door behind him and faced him. “What do you have to say, Mr. Brown? As you can see, I’m very busy.”

He was only a few feet away from her, but it felt as if there were miles between them. “I wanted to apologize to you. That’s why I had to see you.”

“Apologize? For what, Mr. Brown?”

“You visited me after I was banged up at Carbone’s warehouse.” He took a deep breath, knowing this confession was difficult for him and wondering why. “I . . . I was embarrassed for you to see me. To see me weak and helpless. I couldn’t bear the idea that you would speak to Mr. Everly about me. I should have never said I didn’t trust you. I did trust you to keep your word and to be on the right side of right. I’m sorry. I should have never said it.”

He took a deep breath, feeling lighter, knowing he owed her that and that he had delivered, and knowing that at many other times in his life he had been unable to admit he’d made a mistake and tell who he’d offended that he was sorry. He looked up at her and saw her eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t quite know why, but those words made me terribly sad and hurt,” she said and turned away to wipe her eyes. “Although you aren’t the only one who has hurt me recently.”

“Your father asked me to come talk to you.”

“Is that why you’re here? Because your employer asked it of you?”

“No. I planned on apologizing but had put it off. Your decision to leave made me realize I could not let you leave without telling you how very sorry I was. I owed you that at the least.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Mr. Brown. Let us end as friends in any case.”

He stared at her until she looked his way. Her lip was trembling, and her eyes filled again. “Just friends, Miss Wiest?”

Phillip walked slowly to her, hoping she did not scurry away. He stopped and took her hands from her waist, holding them with his own. “I don’t like the idea that you will be far away, Miss Wiest.”

“Why?” she said with a bit of her normal spirit. “Why does it matter to you?”

“You are aggravating and stubborn,” he said and smiled at her grimace. “You’re also so bright, so kind, and so very, very beautiful. I will miss you. That is why.”

He leaned his head down, kissed her cheek, and slowly moved to her lips. He would give her enough time to back away, slap his face, or tell him to get out and never return. But she did none of those things. Her eyes closed on a soft breath as she returned his kiss with the lightest pressure. He could feel his heart pounding, and he imagined she could as well as he held her hands to his chest. Their kiss lasted only a few moments, far too short, but the air had changed, maybe his life had changed, he thought. It was a whimsically ridiculous idea, but he could not deny it.

He stepped away from her then, giving them both a chance to calm their breathing. “Do I owe you another apology?”

She shook her head. “You do not.”

“Your father is devastated that you are leaving. I imagine something happened between the two of you, but he would not tell me what.”

She turned and wandered to the windows overlooking the bay. “He told the staff that I am not allowed to go anywhere other than the dressmaker, the cannery, or the cobbler without his permission and that I must have escorts above Colleen at all times.”

Phillip blew out a breath. No wonder she planned to move to her aunt’s. She turned then, looking resolute.

“I find I owe you an apology as well. You were roused from your home to rescue me from my foolishness. I am mortified to admit that I was completely taken in, that I was reckless and gullible. And that I caused people to worry about me.”

“There’s not a one of us who has not been foolish about something at some time. You only need to ask my Uncle Patrick if you want to hear a long list of my misjudgments.”

“Even so, I cannot spend my life as a prisoner.”

“You shouldn’t. I think you should talk to your father again. Maybe a compromise could be found. He wants you to stay at Shellington, or at the least in Baltimore.”

She glanced up at him. “And what do you want, Mr. Brown?”

She looked so vulnerable at that moment he would have gathered her in his arms if he hadn’t vastly overstepped by kissing her. “I would like you to stay in Baltimore and help me figure out how to help Greta Adamsen. Beyond that, I wouldn’t presume to say.”

“You are just saying that to please my father.”

“That is not true. I hate to see Mr. Wiest so miserable, but I’m thinking more of myself than anyone else. I need your help. You think about things differently and have access to people who would never give me the time of day.”

“I’m struggling to believe you as you’ve not . . . welcomed my opinions or help.”

“My sister says I can be stubborn.” He smiled. “You have a different perspective, which I am learning to appreciate.”

She looked up at him shyly. “Truly?”

He nodded. “Truly.”

Virginia wandered to the window of the room and stood staring out for several minutes. She glanced over her shoulder to him. “If you really need my help, I can hardly refuse. If I can convince my father he must not act as if I’m just a child.”

“I think your father will be open to a compromise.”

He smiled at her—couldn’t stop himself, in truth. She walked past him and opened the door to her rooms. “Colleen, I won’t be leaving Shellington at this time. I’m sorry for all of the work you’ve already done. Can you instruct the staff and give them my apologies? Maybe you could ask Cook to make something special for dessert for everyone.”

“Yes, miss,” she said and turned to everyone working. Phillip followed Miss Wiest to the front door.

“When everything is settled here, perhaps we can meet and discuss what we know, Mr. Brown,” she said.

He glanced around the foyer. “I think you could call me Phillip, miss.”

She blushed. “I suppose you should call me Virginia, then.”

“Only if you’re comfortable.”

“You’d be the only person, other than my father, to do so . . . Phillip.”

“Then it is an honor.”

She smiled that rare smile again, and he was glad he’d swallowed his pride and just as glad she was staying in Baltimore. Not that he would ever be in her circle of friends. Good Lord, he thought to himself, he had kissed her! He felt suddenly awkward, tipped his hat, and hurried to the door and the freezing weather.