All My Broken Dreams (Locksley Hall #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

R obbie stared at the mug, trying to understand how it got in Casey’s possession. “Deacon brought it to you? Why?”

Casey’s brow knitted together. “I’m not sure what it was supposed to accomplish. I recall he said it mattered to you. You thought it was a clue of some kind. He said you were suspicious of us all and thought we had something to do with your brother’s disappearance. I was sure he was mistaken but no one listened to me. Father was alarmed. A false accusation like that could destroy his career, not to mention Fuil Bratach. Deacon produced that mug like it was proof of your intention to pin blame on us. I didn’t believe a word of it, Robbie. You must trust me on that. I knew my cousin was just trying to make himself indispensable to Alastair. He took an innocent mug and turned it into a conspiracy.”

But he didn’t, Robbie thought. Deacon repeated what she’d told him in confidence to Alastair and the others at Dugald Croft. He had betrayed her. Just because Casey Manderville didn’t believe a word of it, it didn’t lessen the damage he could have done.

“Why would he hurt me that way?”

Casey’s blonde locks shook and he sighed. “You must not interpret it like that. Wake doesn’t think his actions through. He’s uneducated–willfully ignorant, I must admit. He’s like a primate, acting on impulse, with no thought to the consequences. He saw a chance to ingratiate himself with my father and he took it. There was no intent to harm you. He wanted to feel important and the mug was his chance.”

“He’s not like that with me,” she said weakly. “He’s really humble … there’s a litter of kittens he’s been taking care of in the morning before he goes to work. Would he do that if he was a selfish person?”

“I don’t know.” Casey sat back, lifting his glass of beer. “Maybe he was trying to impress you. Or trick you. All we know is that Harry left his mug behind. That’s the important thing in all of this. It could be that he left it on purpose as a farewell message to you.”

“Like a suicide note?”

“Yes, something like that,” he said sadly. “I am sorry, Robbie.”

She lifted a sandwich from the heap on the platter, thinking she would force it down over the massive lump in her throat and thus prevent crying. It was vital that she didn’t start because once she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop and this place was packed with strangers who would cringe at a torrent of tears.

In that moment, unbelievably, Deacon walked into the bar. She could see his head above the tops of the others, turning this way and that. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Was he looking for her? Did he actually have the gall to show his face after everything he had done?

He must have felt her staring at him because he turned, locked eyes with her, and in that instant, Robbie experienced despair, relief, joy and anguish in a rapid-fire kaleidoscope of emotion.

He came toward them, winding his way through the crowd. Astonishingly beautiful. Starkly handsome in a black suit, his thick hair combed back off his forehead so his eyes were visible and his brow was clear.

A memory crowded her brain of those eyes on hers before he slipped between her legs and tongued her to wildness.

Robbie dropped the sandwich.

“What are you doing here?” Casey asked when his cousin approached the table.

Deacon kept his eyes on Robbie. “I’ve come to pay my respects. How are you?”

Her tongue clacked against the roof of her mouth before she could get the words out. “Why don’t you tell me? Isn’t that your job–to find out all about me and report back to your uncle?”

His face lost color. She almost felt sorry for him until he turned on Casey.

“What have you been telling her?”

Casey had a look of genuine concern and pity on his face. “She had a right to know, Deacon. Robbie was singing your praises and I thought before she gets too attached, she should hear the truth. Don’t you agree that was the right thing to do?”

“I was going to tell you myself,” he said. “I’ve told you most of it. I never lied to you about my feelings for you. I’m your friend.”

Robbie flung her head back. “Stop it! Just stop. You have lied to me about everything from the beginning. How can I trust you when you do things like this?”

She banged Harry’s coffee mug on the table.

Deacon stared at it and then turned with slow menace on Casey.

“You took it at the meeting. You planned this from the beginning.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. I gave Robbie the mug. That is all I have done. It was Harry’s property and she had a right to it. You didn’t have a right to take it, Deacon. I think that’s what you need to worry about right now. Robbie is justified in her anger.”

He lowered his gaze to her and snarled. “So this puny misery is who you choose to believe? I took the mug, aye. I showed it to Alastair because I had the same questions you did about Harry’s disappearance.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then? Why did I have to find out about it from Casey? Name calling isn’t helping your defense, Deacon. You sound like a spoiled child, blubbering in the school yard. Every word out of your mouth has been a lie. You took the mug because you’re a jealous, pathetic asshole who is desperate to be liked by a bunch of people that you sneer at in private.”

Tears stung her eyes when she saw the wounded look on his face.

“If that is what you think of me, then I’ll leave you to it. You are every bit the liar you say I am. You said you wouldn’t change. Five minutes with this craven piece of shit and you are already talking like him. I’m done with the lot of ye.”

Casey burst into hysterical, high-pitched laughter that shocked Robbie. His laughing attracted the notice of a crowd that had formed near their table and they demanded to know what was so damn funny.

“Don’t keep it to yourself, Manderville! What the hell has you so bent?”

“My cousin, the janitor, has just announced that he is done with us all.” Mirth danced in his eyes as he gazed contemptuously at Deacon. “It struck me as funny since I wasn’t aware he was one of us to begin with.”

“Casey, don’t…,” Robbie said weakly as the crowd burst into laughter. She shrank against the booth, sensing she’d opened a Pandora’s box of bullying when she yelled at Deacon.

She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see how he was taking the catcalls, hoots of derision and the cutting insults.

He deserved it, she told herself. Deserved every bit of their mocking. Didn’t he do the same thing to her? Was she supposed to believe he didn’t repeat everything she said? Was she expected to give him the benefit of the doubt? The mug was sitting right in front of her!

Every suspicion she had, every move she made–he told Fuil Bratach everything.

Well, now it was his turn to feel excluded, gossiped about and put down. Now it was Deacon Wake’s turn to feel like a colossal fool.

Mission accomplished.

Deacon did what he always did when he felt humiliated. He lost his temper.

“You foul little toad, step outside so I can bash that stinking, little smirk off your face!” He gripped Casey’s arm and yanked, twisting it slightly and his cousin let out a screech that was enough to wake the dead.

“You’re hurting me! You bastard–I’ll kill you for this! Goddamn you, you’re hurting me!”

Robbie pounded Deacon’s arm. “Let go of him! What’s the matter with you? Deacon–leave him alone!”

“I’m barely touching him! He’s screaming the way he always does when anyone dares to defend themselves against his bullshit.”

Total bedlam threatened to break out until the owner jostled through the crowd.

“Take it outside, lad, or you’re barred. Mr. Manderville has asked you to release his arm. Do as he says–now–or I’ll call the police!”

He dropped Casey’s arm, flinging him back against the booth. Red-faced, he spun away, pushing through the jeering crowd of students, tailed by catcalls and insults. Deacon crashed into his uncle who was coming in as he was going out.

Alastair caught the look on his nephew’s face and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Here now, lad, what’s this all about?”

Deacon swiped at his eyes. “Nothing. Nothing,” he said as laughter erupted behind him.

A second later, he was out in the street, in the falling snow, sucking in deep gulping breaths of air. What happened to her now had nothing to do with him.

He walked through the silent streets, back to his lodgings.