Page 65 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"I'll speak to you alone."
"Thank you, Doyle, that will be all."
Doyle left quietly and shut the door.
"And the lovely Miss Everheart too." Buchanan lurched to his feet and held out his hand to Alice.
She looked to me.
"She stays," I said to Buchanan.
"Not if you want to hear what I have to say." When I didn't move or ask her to leave, he added, "Oh, come now. What harm am I going to cause you in here alone? For one thing, you're a quick little whippet and could probably dart away from me in my present state. For another, I'm afraid of Fitzroy. And finally, if I'm going to ravish anyone here tonight, it'll be your friend." He winked at Alice.
Alice made a sound of disgust in her throat. "I'm not leaving you alone with him," she told me.
"It's all right," I assured her. "He doesn't mean it. Besides, he knows Lincoln would kill him in the most painful way imaginable if anything happened to me. Either that or castrate him."
Buchanan winced. "You do have a way with words."
"Are you sure?" Alice asked me.
I nodded. "I'll be fine."
"I'll be just outside. Call if you need me."
"You can wait with Doyle, and probably Cook. I'm sure they're both hovering, most likely with one of Cook's kitchen knives. While you wait, you should ask him to show you how to throw them. He's an excellent knife thrower, as it happens. Very accurate." I smiled at Buchanan.
He sneered again. "Most amusing, Miss Holloway."
Alice left, but not before opening the door wide enough so we could both see Doyle and Cook who were indeed hovering. Cook made a great show of wiping a very large meat cleaver on his apron.
"You have the most remarkable staff," Buchanan said, helping himself to the brandy.
"What do you want?" I snapped.
He sat down heavily, sloshing the brandy around the glass, but not spilling any. "I want your help with Julia. I want you to invite her to things."
I cocked my head. "Invite her to what? We don't have dinners or parties here, and if we do, it's usually because the committee members have invited themselves. She's part of the committee. So really, what more do you require of us?"
"I require…" He let out a breath and set his brandy down, untouched. With nothing to hold, his hands became animated. He placed them loosely together and pointed them at me. I was reminded of the parishioners in my adoptive father's church, praying, and of the beggars in the street, imploring passersby for food. "I need you to be kind to her now. To be a friend to her."
"You ask too much."
"Please, Charlie," he said, using my Christian name for the first time since arriving. "Just make her feel wanted. Let her know that she isn't alone in the world." I'd never seen Buchanan look so earnest. He'd been here when the general created havoc before Christmas, and he'd actually been of use that night. But he hadn't behaved like this. I felt like I was seeing the real Buchanan, the man he used to be before Lady Harcourt broke his heart all those years ago.
"Why can'tyoumake her feel special?" I asked. "You're family, after all. She isn't alone when she has you and your brother."
A shadow passed across his eyes and he slumped back in the chair. "It's not the same. There's familial obligation, and then there's voluntary friendship."
"I'd wageryourfriendship is voluntary."
His jaw hardened. "She won't accept my friendship," he bit off. "She loathes me despite…" He jerked his head to the side and stared into the fire. "Despite everything we are to one another. Yes, Charlie,are. It's not over."
Well, that was more information than I expected.
"Sometimes she wants it to end, until I convince her otherwise." He nibbled his thumbnail, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the chair arm. "I know you think what we have is sordid. Perhaps it is. Perhaps neither of us knows how to love properly and this is our twisted way of showing that we care. Or perhaps we should both be committed to an asylum." His fingers stopped drumming but he continued to stare at the glowing coals. "The thing is, it's not enough for her. What we have…she wants something else. Something more.Someonemore." His head jerked back to face me. "Do you understand?"
I flinched at the hollow, haunted look in his eyes. "I think so. She wants a husband, but only if he's titled or rich, or both." Seth had said as much about Lady Harcourt. He'd been intimate with her, although she'd never professed to love him like she loved Lincoln.
