Regency Wagers (42 page)

‘My shameful family!’ Emily cried. ‘How is my family more shameful than this one? Perhaps you ought to consider who may have tricked whom into marriage. If you think I sought a gamester for a husband, you are mistaken!’

Lady Keating shot back, ‘My son is not a gamester! How dare you!’

As the Dowager shouted these last words, Guy walked into the room. ‘What is this?’ he asked hotly.

‘She has been saying shocking things to me, Guy!’ his mother cried, choking on a sob.

Emily stood, shooting a glare at both her mother-in-law and her husband. ‘I will leave you to discuss how shocking I can be!’

‘Emily, wait!’ Guy pleaded, but she pushed past him and ran from the room.

Guy swung around to his mother. ‘What have you done this time?’

‘Now do not shout at me!’ his mother sobbed. ‘She started it.’

He gripped the back of a chair to keep from throttling her. How was he to make things right with his wife when his mother made it her business to be thoughtless and
unkind? He did not need this from her! He needed to show Emily he could give her a good life with him. Financial security. A true partnership. Children. Most of all, children.

‘Mother, I am going to end it. You have a fortnight to find other accommodations. I will give you an allowance and you may live where you please, but I’ll not have you interfering in my marriage or making my wife miserable.’

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed in a horrified voice.

He did not wait around to hear more. He hurried out of the room in search of Emily. He met her in the hall, in bonnet and pelisse, putting on her gloves. Her maid was hurrying behind her. ‘Emily…’ he said.

‘I am going out,’ she declared. ‘Hester will accompany me.’

‘I will go with you,’ Guy said. ‘Hester, stay here.’

Hester, appearing quite alarmed, halted in mid-step, looking from one to the other.

‘Hester will come with me,’ Emily said.

‘She will not,’ Guy countered.

The maid glanced from one to the other.

‘You will wait while I get my coat and hat.’ Guy said.

As he turned to do so, she said, ‘I will go alone.’ She walked briskly out of the door.

Guy ran to get his coat. He quickly put the hat on his head and hurried after her, running to the end of the street, still struggling into his topcoat.

He quickly caught up with her.

‘Emily, I desire to talk with you.’

She walked quickly, not giving him a glance. ‘About your mother? I have no wish to converse on that topic.’

Her colour was high and her voice trembled with anger. In spite of himself, something inside him felt a prick of
arousal. She was another new Emily. One he’d glimpsed that day when she threw the book at him.

‘I am quite aware of my mother’s ill-mannered behaviour towards you. I have spoken to her about it several times—’

‘How well she heeds you,’ Emily said with sarcasm.

He almost smiled, but thought better of it. ‘I have asked her to find residence elsewhere.’ If he’d hoped this would please her, he was mistaken. She stopped abruptly and faced him.

‘And you think this improves matters?’ She glared at him, the flashing of her eyes almost distracting him from what she was saying. ‘What about your great-aunts? Your sister? Do you think I wish to be the cause of estrangement in the family? I think of my own family. Do you suppose I would be pleased to cause the same in yours?’

‘What other recourse do I have?’ he demanded. As difficult as it was to receive her anger, he was glad she did not mask it from him. ‘My duty is to you, my wife.’

‘Duty!’ she said, as if it were a profanity. She started walking again.

He bolted to her side and kept stride with the brisk pace she set. They came to Piccadilly where the streets were busy with shoppers and tradesmen. This was not a place for him to engage in a private conversation. They had already received interested glances from passers-by.

Before he knew it, she darted through the traffic to cross the bustling street.

‘Blast it, Emily,’ he said, his heart still pounding in fright from seeing her nearly run over by a mail coach. ‘Have a care. Where are you bound in such a hurry?’

‘I have a fancy to call upon Lady Devlin,’ she replied in a cool voice.

Oh, the devil, Guy thought. He’d nearly forgotten about
Lady Devlin. ‘Emily, let us find a place to sit down a moment.’

‘There isn’t such a place,’ she said.

‘We could go to the park.’

Hyde Park was out of the way, but at least he could sit down with her in relative privacy and tell her about Lady Devlin. He didn’t dare tell her the whole. That would have to wait until they returned home.

‘I do not wish to go to the park,’ she said.

He stopped this time and she kept walking several feet before resignedly stopping and turning back to him.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘The park.’

Though the day was chilly and rain threatened there was plenty of activity in the park. Soldiers exercising their horses. Grey-haired gentlemen taking constitutionals. The occasional couple looking more into each other’s eyes than at the flora. He led her to a bench where she sat stiffly beside him.

‘We are in the park,’ she said unnecessarily.

He rubbed his face. How to tell her? He took her gloved hand and held it with both his hands. ‘You should hear this information from me. I’ll not risk you coming by it some other way—’

‘Risk,’ she murmured with a slight laugh.

‘There is someone about who speaks of Lady Devlin’s past,’ he began.

To his surprise, she turned to him, her face turning pale.

‘He…he says she used to be employed in a gaming hell—’

‘No,’ she gasped, rising.

He kept hold of her hand and pulled her back down. ‘I thought you should know this. If this information becomes public knowledge, even being Heronvale’s sister-in-law may not be enough for her to weather it.’

The distress on her face was much more than he expected. If he were not holding on to her, he was sure she would bolt.

‘You may suffer by association to her,’ he added.

‘Are you forbidding me to see her?’ Her voice was like ice.

‘No,’ he said, ‘but you must take care. Our status could less stand such a scandal.’

She shot to her feet again and snatched her hand from his grasp. ‘Our status? Do you think I give a moment’s care for that?’ Her eyes were wild, like a cornered animal looking for escape.

‘Emily?’ He regarded her with alarm.

People walking nearby stopped and stared at them.

‘Who gave you this information?’ she demanded.

‘Calm yourself, Emily. Sit back down.’

‘Who?’ she repeated, looking wilder than the moment before. ‘Who? Do not keep this information from me, I warn you.’

This was not biddable Emily who denied having any wants or desires. This was not the seductive Lady Widow, using feminine wiles to get what she wanted. This was someone entirely new. This was a mythological harpy—no—more like a mother bear protecting her cub.

‘What is this, Emily?’

‘Guy,’ she pleaded, her whole body trembling, ‘tell me who gave you this information.’

‘It was Cyprian Sloane, but—’

‘Oh!’ She took off at a run, her skirts flying, and her bonnet blown off her head, held only by its ribbons.

Guy jumped to his feet and took off after her, heedless of the alarmed stares they received.

He caught up to her and grabbed her by the arm. Gripping her forearms, he held her firm.

‘Guy, release me, I beg you. I must warn her, please.’ She struggled to free herself.

‘Not until you tell me why, Emily.’

They were both panting, but Guy was not certain it was due to the running or due to having her close to him.

She stilled. The surprise of it almost caused him to let go, when her struggles had not succeeded. She stared him directly in the eye. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes sparkled, but with pain. ‘She is my sister,’ she rasped.

He dropped his hands, but she did not run.

She held him with her eyes. ‘Your mother called my family shameful this morning. Would you care to hear how shameful, Guy? Because, if you would, I will tell you now. I know you will keep what I say in confidence, because, having married me, you will not wish this to become known.’ She gave him a haunted smile. ‘If you think Sloane’s revelation is a threat to the Keating name, you might wish to listen to me.’

She alarmed him. He had the notion that the walls she erected were tumbling down, but prematurely, before she was strong enough to do without them.

He reached over and put her hand into his. ‘I am ready to hear you.’

H
e would despise her after this, Emily was certain. He would be even more regretful he’d married her than he’d been before. Not only did she have no fortune for him to gamble away, not only did she lack charm, as her mother-in-law said, but she also came from a family whose secrets could shrivel a person’s soul.

She explained to him just how shameful her family really could be, leaving nothing out.

She told about her father bringing the body home, how she’d thought Madeleine had died alone outside in the cold. Tears flooded her eyes, and her voice caught on a sob.

To her surprise, he did not shake his head in disgust. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close against his chest until she was again able to speak.

‘It is all right,’ he murmured in a voice soft as kitten’s fur. ‘Your sister did not die.’

No, but that nagged at her too. Who was the poor girl buried in Madeleine’s grave?

His arms held her close. The heat of his body warmed her, and the chill of the day disappeared. How was she to
reconcile this kindness with all she knew of him? With all that had fuelled her anger?

Her mind refused to recall his wager on Lady Widow, refused to remember he’d tricked her into marriage, refused to accuse him of being like her father.

They continued on the park’s path, her holding tightly to his arm. The trees in the park were already bare, their brown leaves scattered on the ground. Every so often the cold breeze stirred them into useless little whirlwinds.

She continued her tale. She told of encountering Madeleine in front of Lackington’s Book Shop, on Devlin’s arm, like seeing a ghost appear during the brightest part of the day.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly so dry she was unable to tell him she once had placed all her hopes on marrying Devlin Steele. This truth was too painful. She had been so eager to marry a good man. A man unlike her father.

Had she accomplished that goal by marrying Guy? Was he the good man he appeared to be at this moment, a man offering her no censure, no rebuff, merely comfort and understanding?

Whatever might happen in the days and weeks and years to come, she would never forget this moment with him. Her husband looked upon her with loving eyes. Her heart nearly burst with the joy of it.

In a halting voice she told him how thoughtless and selfish she’d been, and how jealous of the pretty Madeleine. If she had paid attention to her sister, guided her, looked out for her, Madeleine would have been safe.

‘How could you have known, Emily?’ he said. ‘You could not have conceived of such events.’

Could she bear it? Could she believe it? She wanted to believe it. In this moment, walking with him and telling
him the worst secret of her life, she wanted to believe she was not at fault. She wanted to believe he cared about her.

They left the park and walked to Grosvenor Square. She hated the thought of parting with him, but Madeleine would have difficulty enough in hearing the news from her. Besides, the longer he was with her, enfolding her in his kindness, the more foolhardy would the plan forming in her mind seem.

As they neared the Heronvale townhouse, she said, ‘I wish to be alone with Madeleine when I tell her. I do not want you to be present. It will only distress her.’

Guy’s blue eyes regarded her intently. ‘Emily, I beg you not to tell her at all.’

‘No! She must be warned! I insist upon it.’ She could not keep this secret from Madeleine, not when her sister’s whole future could be ruined by it. She would also tell Madeleine she would fix it.

His brow furrowed.

As Guy’s wife she could do nothing for her sister. It would be scandalous for her to call upon Cyprian Sloane, even if she knew where to find him. Lady Widow, however, knew exactly where he would be that very evening. Lady Widow might be able to convince him to preserve Madeleine’s reputation.

Her heart beat wildly with excitement. She knew she could resolve this! Lady Widow could convince Sloane, she knew she could! She could rescue her sister now as she had not done before.

She made her voice firm. ‘Do not forbid me to do this, Guy. I have made no previous requests of you, but I am asking you now to allow me to warn my sister.’

They had reached the door to the Heronvale townhouse. He crossed his arms and bowed his head in thought.

‘I will not forbid you,’ he said at last. ‘But it is a matter best resolved without her knowing of it, I am convinced. It would be far more effective if I spoke with her husband or with Heronvale.’

‘No, Guy, you must not,’ Emily begged. ‘It is Madeleine’s decision whether or not to tell her husband and the Marquess.’

She looked up at him, all turmoil inside. Wishing not to part with him. Not to become Lady Widow again. But excited and eager to rescue her sister.

‘If this is what you desire…’

His eyes were warm and caring, their intense blue still having that melting effect on her bones and muscles. What she desired most was to throw herself into his arms and to feel his strength enfolding her, never letting go.

She must be realistic. She must take one more risk. For the sake of her sister. When she met his eyes, her gaze did not waver, even as the lie formed on her lips. ‘I desire this above all things.’

What she truly desired above all things was for this moment with her husband to last forever.

He smiled at her and butterflies danced in her chest. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. When he turned his back to her to sound the knocker, she rubbed where his lips had touched, her heart now aching with what she had decided to do.

For her sister, she would don Lady Widow’s clothes one last time. She would wear Lady Widow’s mask. She would return one last time to Madame Bisou’s gaming hell and convince Sloane never to divulge this secret—no matter what it took. She would not fail Madeleine this time. She would right the wrong she had done, and her sister would be safe.

When a Heronvale footman opened the door, Guy watched Emily step over the threshold, and heard her ask for Lady Devlin. The door closed.

He had not wished to bid her goodbye. He turned away and stepped back on the pavement, remembering how it felt to hold her in his arms, to comfort her, to dry her tears.

The revelation about her family had been shocking in the extreme. He had not imagined how low her parents could sink. To abandon one daughter to such a fate. To treat the other like a mere encumbrance. Using them both as mere chattels to resolve gaming debts. Why, even his own father and brother had not been so lost to decency as that.

How had Emily come out of such a family with all her goodness? Her solicitousness of his mother, his great-aunts and the servants had been no pretence. If her father had passed on his love of gambling to her, Guy would help her conquer it. God knew, he understood all the temptations of a card table.

But first he must see her safe from this scandal. He must save her from the pain of seeing her sister ruined and banished all over again.

Guy turned towards Bond Street in search of a hack. He intended to stop at White’s or whichever gentlemen’s club might know where Cyprian Sloane could be found. He’d find Cyprian Sloane and do whatever was necessary to compel the man to keep his mouth shut. Then he would tackle all their other problems, including telling her he’d deceived her once more by pretending he did not know she was Lady Widow.

Guy spent half the afternoon searching before he finally located Sloane in a tavern near his rooms on Thornnaugh
Street. Sloane sat alone at a rough-hewn wood table, eating stewed partridge, drinking a tankard of ale, and looking like hell.

His bloodshot eyes only momentarily registered surprise before returning to their typical faintly mocking expression. ‘Well, Keating. I must say, you are the last man I expected to see.’ He added, ‘Or wished to.’

‘May I sit down?’ Guy asked.

Sloane winced. ‘Only if you promise not to shout. I have the devil of a headache.’

Guy signalled for the tavern maid to bring him some ale.

‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ Sloane said with thick sarcasm.

Guy gave him a level stare. ‘You shared some information with me last night. I am ready to discuss it.’

Sloane’s brow wrinkled and he stared into his ale. Half a minute passed before the wrinkles cleared and he looked up again. ‘Now I recall. Regarding Lady—’

Guy held up his hand. ‘Do not say her name, if you please.’

Sloane shrugged. ‘Regarding the “Mysterious Miss M”.’

Guy gestured for him to be silent as the maid clapped down a tankard of ale in front of Guy and removed Sloane’s dishes.

Guy took a sip before speaking. ‘What would it take for you to agree to forget that piece of knowledge?’

Sloane’s brows shot up. A slow grin came over his face. ‘Did I not tell you what it would take? I want you to spread it around Madame Bisou’s that you and Lady Widow merely played a private game of cards, and that the terms of the wager have not yet been met.’

Guy kept his eyes steadily on Sloane’s as he again lifted the tankard to his lips.

Sloane continued, ‘Then I want you to step aside, so I might have a chance with the lady.’

‘I cannot do that,’ Guy shot back. ‘Tell me the stakes of the wager. I will pay you an equal amount.’

Sloane’s brows rose again. ‘Four thousand six hundred pounds?’

Guy did not move a muscle. ‘Done. I will have a banknote in your hands tomorrow.’ The amount would severely cut into the reserves he’d invested in the funds. It would strain his finances, and mean more years of pinching pennies so hard they would scream in pain.

Sloane laughed and shook his head, then pressed a finger to his brow with a wince. ‘You miss the point, Keating. The money means nothing to me. I aspire to win the bet. Winning the bet is the important thing.’

Guy gave him a look of disgust. ‘You would ruin that poor lady’s reputation for the sake of a wager?’

‘Well.’ Sloane shifted in his seat. ‘I confess not to have thought much upon that. I meant to induce you to my way of thinking by considering how your wife’s reputation would suffer from the association. I thought preserving her good name would be the ticket.’

Guy slammed the tankard down on the table. ‘Keep this matter of the wager between you and me. Why bring innocent women into it?’

Sloane leaned back, undaunted. ‘Why, to compel you to agree to do what I want.’

Guy twisted halfway around, gripping the back of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white. He did not suppose a right hook to Sloane’s face would persuade him to co-operate.

Sloane put on a horrified expression. ‘Do not tell me you have developed a
tendre
for our Lady Widow?’

Guy glared at him.

Sloane took a drink and tapped his fingers against the pewter handle. ‘Your heart is engaged. Fancy that.’

Guy ignored that statement. He leaned forward, putting his fists on the table. ‘The point is, Sloane, why ruin the lady and her family? If you care nothing for her life, think of yourself. You would risk making powerful enemies. I dare say Heronvale’s credit in the world exceeds your own.’

‘I dare say it does.’ Sloane laughed.

‘Give me your word you will keep this damning information to yourself and never speak of it to anyone.’ Guy looked him directly in the eye. ‘I will pay you the money.’

Sloane did not so much as blink.

What would it take to make the man agree? Guy had no desire to challenge him to a duel, but it was beginning to appear that would be the next resort.

Sloane threw up a hand. ‘Forget the money. You have more need of it than I.’ He rocked back and forth on the hind legs of his chair. ‘I’ll give you my word, I shall never speak of the Mysterious Miss M.’

Guy peered at him, looking for any signs the man was not serious. He did not discover any. ‘Thank you, Sloane.’

‘Always felt sorry for her, to tell the truth,’ Sloane added, draining the contents of his tankard. ‘Didn’t like that gulling bastard Farley by half. He got what he deserved.’

Guy signalled to the tavern maid. ‘I’ll buy you another drink to seal the bargain. What will you have?’

Sloane grimaced. ‘Anything but whisky.’

A minute later they lifted two more tankards of ale.

Sloane eyed Guy suspiciously. ‘Tell me, Keating. You accepted my word easily enough. Why? Why trust me?’

Guy smiled. ‘I’ve heard you called many things, Sloane, but no man has ever said you do not keep your word.’

‘What a shocking lapse.’ Sloane took another sip. He put the tankard down and rested his elbows on the table.

A triumphant expression suddenly lit up his face. ‘I have it, Keating!’ He grinned like a harlequin. ‘If you do not agree to deny bedding Lady Widow, I will inform your wife of her existence. How would that suit you?’

Guy laughed. ‘Too late, sir.’ He took a long swig of his ale. ‘My wife already knows all about Lady Widow.’

Emily rode back to Essex Court in the Heronvale carriage. She’d stayed with Madeleine all the afternoon, but contrary to what she’d told Guy, she did not mention Sloane’s threat. As soon as her sister’s eyes glittered with pleasure upon seeing her, Emily knew he had been right. She could not burden her sister with this worry. Madeleine would be better off never knowing of the potential hazard to her happiness.

She and Madeleine spent a lovely afternoon together, playing with Madeleine’s daughter, chatting with the Marchioness, catching up on each other’s lives, though their conversations by necessity left much unsaid. Madeleine glossed over her time with Farley, and Emily glossed over her marriage. Nor did she mention Lady Widow.

One more night to wear Lady Widow’s mask.

As soon as she entered the townhouse, Bleasby informed her that the Dowager Lady Keating wished to speak with her.

‘At your convenience,’ Bleasby said.

At her convenience? Was that a nicety Bleasby added?

She went first to her room to make herself more pre
sentable. Before she could finish tidying her hair, there was a knock at the door. ‘Come in,’ she said.

Lady Keating entered. She had never visited Emily’s room before. She looked much altered, smaller, paler, wringing her hands.