All My Broken Dreams (Locksley Hall #1)

Chapter Fourteen

R obbie nodded vaguely, trying to pierce through the woman’s accent to understand what she was saying. “They must have made a mistake about Harry. He’s my half-brother; we had different fathers, but if he came from some sort of nobility, my mother would have told me.”

Mrs. Cameron shook her head. “Nae, the reverse is more like if she knew what she was about. Your mam was protecting her boy by not telling him. Fuil Bratach might have started out as a noble undertaking, but it has a dark underside now. ”

A chill went through her. “Fuil Bratach?”

“It means Blood Banner . It’s an ancient order of nobility and wealthy landowners whose purpose is to cling to power by any means necessary. Membership is through blood ties to the first families of the order. Your brother Harry was one of them if he was whisked away to Dugald Croft. That’s where they live; the latest cohort of offspring. They are educated at Locksley Hall before being dispatched all over the world to pull its strings.”

“No, that’s not my brother. He’s the least power-hungry person I know. Harry wouldn’t go along with something like that.”

“He might not have been given a choice. Rumors fly about what goes on inside the walls of Dugald Croft. A hired woman comes in to cook and clean for them, but she is as tight as a clam. You’ll not get anything out of her.”

Robbie lifted the mug she had given her brother before he left for Scotland. She turned it gingerly in her hands, recalling the afternoon she and Harry had spent together in her apartment because she couldn’t face going outside even with him as a bodyguard. He had told her the mug was their link. He’d drink his coffee out of it every morning and think of her message. She could do the same in New York with the mug he had bought her.

Hers was in her apartment in New York. It was tall, narrow, and dark blue with a quote from The Glass Menagerie etched in small white lettering around its side:

You know it don’t take much intelligence to get yourself into a nailed-up coffin, Laura. But who in hell ever got himself out of one without removing one nail?

“There is no way he would leave this behind.” She carefully returned the mug to its place. “Was this here when you came into dust?”

“Aye, I recall seeing it, but I can’t say how long it’s been there.” She moved to the door, pulling the ring of keys from her pocket. “How well do you know Deacon Wake?”

“We just met yesterday. He’s helping me find Harry.”

“You want to mind how you go with that one and what you tell him. He’s a nice lad, rough around the edges, but don’t be fooled into thinking he is one of you or me. He’s got as much noble blood flowing through his veins as the rest of that lot in their walled tower. The difference between Deacon and them is that he was cheated out of his inheritance and he’s too simple to know he’d been cheated.”

“I didn’t know anything about that. Who cheated him? I thought he was a janitor.”

“He is, and good at his job too. Who cheated him and why is a long story. He is the nephew of Alastair Manderville and was his ward until he came of age. Lord Manderville managed his nephew’s estate right into his own pocket. The lad is destitute now. A peer of the realm, a descendent of the Celtic Kings of Scotland and held the title through the Union of the Crowns in 1603, and now he hasn’t got a pot to piss in. Living in that poxy wee room while the rest of them live like kings. It makes my blood boil to think how he’s been robbed.”

“He said he was born in New Hampshire. His father had a farm.”

“Oh, is that what he told ye? I’ll not contradict him then. His father was a Wake, an ancient Scottish clan dating back to the Picts. That’s all you need to know. His mother, a Manderville, married into great wealth and her brother took full advantage when the lad’s parents perished.”

Robbie digested this new information slowly. Deacon as a janitor, she could handle. Deacon as a descendent of a great family intimidated the hell out of her. Besides, she just couldn’t see it. He was as unpolished as the cat he nurtured in secret.

“Don’t trouble yourself to ask Deacon about it,” Mrs. Cameron continued. “He won’t hear a bad word spoken against his uncle. Loyal til the day he dies, is that lad. His uncle is the only family he has left. I won’t be the one to come between them, but it is a crying shame that a fine young man like that should be held back by a twisted, mean-spirited soul like Manderville.”

She shook herself, giving Robbie a look of alarm. “Pay me no notice. I’m in a right dour mood this morning. Don’t repeat a word of that to Deacon or he’ll have my guts for garters, filling your head with my nonsense.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Give us a shout when you are ready to lock up.”

Robbie called back to Mrs. Cameron. “Oh, before you go–is the rent paid up for this month?”

“Harry is paid up through to the end of term. That is a condition of the lease.”

“When does the term end?”

“December. Right before the Academy empties for Christmas.”

“If I wanted to stay here, could I? In case Harry comes back, I don’t want to be too far away. I don’t have enough money for a hotel.”

Mrs. Cameron shrugged. “It’s no skin off my nose. Stay if you like, provided you leave the place as clean as you found it. If you don’t find him before Christmas, you’ll have to vacate the premises, no if, ands or buts about it. The flat will be placed back into rotation for January.”

“I understand,” Robbie said with relief. “Thank you. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just take another look around. There might be something I missed.”

She gave Robbie a cryptic look. “I’ll have another key made. Assuming your brother doesn’t show up in the next twenty-four hours. A word of advice: don’t ask too many questions about Fuil Bratach or Dugald Croft. Folk around here keep themselves to themselves; you would do well to do the same.”

Robbie was left alone in her brother’s room for the first time. The mug sat on the counter where he had left it. She stared at it for a long moment, imagining herself in Harry’s place, about to move to Dugald Croft. Did he know he was one of the original families before he came to Locksley Hall? Who paid for his flat?

It didn’t make sense.

She read the message on the mug; black lettering on green matte ceramic. The words were turned toward her, perfectly placed to be read. A clean mug set on the counter instead of in the cupboard? Perhaps he meant to pack it and forgot?

Robbie moved to the door and mimed entering for the first time. The quotation was clearly visible as though it had been positioned to be seen as soon as someone entered.

Not just anyone– her . The one person who would understand the meaning behind those words. Harry was sending her a message.

Thus began our longest journey.

It was from To Kill a Mockingbird. Scout says it in reference to the walk home from the highschool with her older brother, Jem, where they had appeared in a pageant.

On that walk, Jem was attacked and very nearly killed

Harry didn’t forget the mug. He knew she would come looking for him and he placed it there on purpose as a sign.

He was in danger.

“Find anything?”

Deacon spoke from behind her, scaring the wits out of her. Robbie was about to tell him about the mug but changed her mind at the last second. Mrs. Cameron’s warning kept her from speaking. Mind how you go with that one….

She moved to the kitchen and put the mug in the cupboard. “No joy. But the good news is I can stay here until December. Mrs. Cameron gave me the all clear.”

Deacon’s eyes narrowed like the light was bothering them. “That’s great, Robbie. I brought your bags down just in case. I had a feeling she’d say yes.”

“Did you?”

“She’s not a hard woman.”

He opened his mouth as if to say more and then changed his mind and lifted her backpack and suitcase into the room. Deacon paused, hands on his hips, and then in a shy and yet sexy lift of his chin, he faced her.

“I guess this is it then. The end of the road. I hope it works out for you, Robbie.”

“Deacon–wait. Thank you for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you … if you hadn’t come along when you did….”

His eyes clouded. “Maybe you’ll do the same for me one day.”

“I will. You can count on it.”

Robbie moved to stand in front of him, rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

Deacon’s eyes closed and she felt the warm exhalation of his breath against her lips. They didn’t touch but stood at a slight distance from one another, unable to move. Unwilling.

“See you around, Robbie,” he said in a husky voice.

Then he stepped around her and was gone.