“Oh? What’s that?”
“It makes me free to say this. Go to hell.”
Bram left the old man sputtering and hurried down the same path Susanna had taken when she’d fled the room. As he reached the end of the corridor, an open door to the gardens beckoned. Picking up speed, Bram charged through it.
And nearly collided with a stunned Minerva Highwood.
“Hold the cudgel,” he said, raising his hands. “Did Susanna come this way?”
The bespectacled girl cast a glance over her shoulder. “I don’t—”
“Thank you.” Bram didn’t wait for the rest of her reply. He simply followed the direction she’d indicated with her glance—a slate-paved pathway that disappeared around a tall, manicured hedge. As he rounded it, he caught a glimpse of Susanna’s unmistakable hair as she dashed through a distant arch.
“Susanna!”
She paused, but didn’t stop. She entered a square, ornate garden bounded by hedges on all sides and a trellis in each corner. Bram followed her, closing the gate behind him.
She heard the latch click and wheeled, knowing herself to be penned. Her eyes were wide with fear and disbelief. Of course she was terrified. Her beloved father—her only parent and protector for so many years—had just revealed himself to be an ambitious, selfish, unfeeling jackass.
“Listen,” he said, raising his hands in peace. “Susanna, love. I know how upset you must be right now.”
“You have no idea.” She shook her head. “No idea.” Her hands balled into fists, and she pressed them tight to her belly, as though afraid they might get loose.
“Will it help to hit something? You can hit me.” Approaching her, he dropped his arms to his sides. “Go ahead, love. Do your worst.”
No sooner had the words passed his lips than her fist met his gut, driving into his side like a mallet. A mallet with a knobby little row of knuckles. The blow came before he’d had the chance to prepare, to tense his muscles in defense.
“Oof.” He clutched his side, reeling. “For God’s sake, Susanna.”
“You asked for it,” she cried defensively, nursing her punching hand close to her breast and rubbing her knuckles. “You told me to do my worst.”
“I know, I know.” He straightened, blowing away the pain with a deep exhalation. “It’s just . . . your worst was worse than I was anticipating.”
“You should know by now, I’m just full of surprises.” Her breath caught on a wild sob. She pulled back for another blow.
This time he intercepted it, easily catching her fist in his own. “Hold a moment.”
“I’ll hold nothing.” She kicked him in the shin. His good shin, fortunately. “You’ve ruined everything. I’m furious with you.”
“With me?” His head jerked back in surprise. After the callous, disgusting way Sir Lewis had just treated her in the hall, she was angry with him?
“How could you do this to me? You gave me your word. You promised you wouldn’t involve my father in any of this.”
“I didn’t think I was involving him, not in the way you meant. I only agreed to demonstrate his new invention. It’s not as though I put him in uniform.”
“But don’t you see how this is so much worse?”
“No. I don’t see that at all.” He put his hands on her shoulders and tried to soothe her with a brisk caress. “Susanna, I never meant to deceive you, I swear it. And regardless of how I feel about your father right now . . . Even I have to admit, his cannon is a brilliant idea. It should be made known.”
“The cannon is a brilliant idea. But in practice, it doesn’t work. Do you know how many prototypes he’s tried? How many near-disasters we’ve evaded? The last one blew up, Bram. Practically in his face. He suffered a mild heart attack, remained abed for weeks. He promised me he’d discontinue experiments and send his drawings to colleagues for testing instead.” She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “He promised me.”
“Well, he broke his word. To us both.” He cast a pointed glance at his breast pocket, where he’d stuffed the envelope. “He could have given me these orders weeks ago, don’t you see? But he decided to use me while he had the chance. This event we’ve been working so hard to plan has nothing to do with the Duke of Tunbridge or defending the cove, and everything to do with your father’s taste for glory. It’s all a bit of gold braid and red-coated flash to set off the jewel that is his new cannon. He’s manipulated us both. Not only us, but the whole damned village. For the sake of his pride, he’s put all your work, all your friends at risk.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands over her ears. “Stop! Stop talking. I don’t want to hear any more. Just stop.”
He knew her anger wasn’t truly for him. The betrayal and devastation she felt were all to do with her father. That familiar, awful sense of helplessness descended on Bram, as he realized there was nothing he could do to alter the past. He couldn’t mend this for her.
But he could be here, with her. He could listen, and hold her tight.
So he did. Bram wrapped her in his arms and clutched her close to his chest. She put her head on his shoulder and wept. He held her like that for several minutes, murmuring words of comfort in her ear. Lending her the warmth and strength of his body until the tremors ceased racking hers.
When at length she raised her head and drew a deep, shaky breath, he led her to one of the corner arbors. “Come, let’s sit down.”
“I’m so sorry. Your knee.”
“No, no. It’s not that.” He pulled her down to sit with him. The arbor bench was narrow, and it would only accommodate the two of them if she sat half in his lap. He slid one arm about her waist. Her slender, stockinged legs twined with his knee boots. One of her slippers fell to the grass.
“Here.” With his free hand, he wrested the flask from his pocket. He unscrewed the top with his teeth, then spat it aside. “Have a sip of this. It will help.”
He raised it to her quivering lips, and she took a healthy swallow. Immediately, she seized up with a violent coughing fit.
“Sorry,” he said, patting her back. “You’re so proficient at shooting and Latin and so forth, I forget you haven’t mastered every manly pursuit.”
She cleared her throat and gave him a wry smile. “This is one I hadn’t tried yet. As for the others . . . I just wanted something in common with him.”