The Rake's Ruined Lady (17 page)

‘If I had your luck I’d be tempted to up the ante.’ Toby placed his bet.

‘I must not!’ Bea lightly remonstrated. ‘I will be jinxed if I do and might lose my winnings.’

‘Superstition.’ Toby made a dismissive gesture. ‘Only the faint-hearted would hold back on such a run of luck—and you, Miss Dewey, are not a coward, are you?’ He held Bea’s gaze with a stare that mingled admiration and challenge.

‘Miss Dewey can make up her own mind on the state of play,’ Jago said, with an undercurrent to his voice.

Bea sensed Jago was warning her against betting heavily. She knew he was doing it kindly, to protect her, but she felt quite drunk with exhilaration, and flattered that Sir Toby had faith in her ability. Besides, if she netted a tidy amount she’d be able to reimburse her father for her wedding expenses. Not that Colin Burnett should be let off the hook; when an opportunity arose she would remind the doctor of the solemn promise he’d made to honour his debts on the day he jilted her.

It was the sense of a hand pressing on the rail of her chair that alerted Beatrice to Hugh’s presence...that and a faint familiar redolence of cigar smoke and sandalwood. If she had not been in shock at what she’d done she might also have guessed at someone being directly behind from people’s reactions: they were no longer pitying her with sly eyes but gawping over the top of her head.

Sir Toby Kendrick had a particularly malicious glint beneath his dropped lashes. But Beatrice was no longer surprised at his meanness. That gentleman had minutes ago transformed from kindly advisor to debt collector.

‘Ah...my dear brother...come to rescue the fair lady,’ Toby drawled. ‘Indeed she needs
somebody’s
help as she now owes me...let me see...’ He made a show of counting on his fingers. ‘One hundred and fifteen pounds.’ He tapped a hand on baize. ‘Too late to be a hero, I’m afraid.’

Beatrice felt as though a knife had stabbed at her heart, making her physically wince. ‘No...it cannot be as much as that!’

She made to rise, but a cool hand on her shoulder stayed her, then withdrew slowly in a way only she might recognise as a subtle caress. She glanced up, her lovely face bloodless with strain. Following an infinitesimal wordless reassurance Hugh’s eyes were once more on his brother, his jaw tense with controlled fury.

‘Miss Dewey is retiring from the game and I’m taking her place,’ Hugh announced quietly. ‘Does anybody object?’ His gaze swept the remaining players at the Faro table, lingering for a moment on Jago, making his friend squirm beneath a blaze of wrathful accusation. Jago’s attempt at gesturing in explanation was ignored; Hugh’s attention had gone.

‘I object,’ Toby purred, smugly sprawling in his chair.

‘You’re outvoted,’ Hugh said.

‘Those aren’t the rules I play by,’ Toby returned defiantly.

‘They are now.’ Hugh stared at the banker, who in turn peeked at Lord Whitley, standing amidst the audience to this spectacle.

Their host inclined his head rather reluctantly, because the old fellow enjoyed a scandal and a scuffle and he thought that both were in the offing this evening. The fact that a newly jilted spinster now had two brothers fighting over her was quite piquant, and an air of horrified excitement was electrifying the atmosphere.

With a nod the banker indicated that Hugh could join the game in Miss Dewey’s stead.

‘In that case I shall withdraw my person and my winnings...and my IOUs stand.’ Toby knew that to act in such a callous way and prevent the young lady having a chance of cancelling a debt he’d deliberately led her into would brand him a cad. But he didn’t care what people thought; he was obsessed with feeding the envy and enmity he had for his brother.

Toby had always known that Hugh wanted Beatrice Dewey. He’d known it years ago when the couple had been inseparable for weeks. His suspicions that his brother still lusted after the blonde had been confirmed when Hugh had unexpectedly strolled into the Whitleys’ drawing room earlier. Miss Dewey had quite quickly distanced herself from his brother, enlightening Toby, if nobody else present, to the nature of the rift between Viscount Blackthorne and Hugh. Toby hadn’t imagined an opportunity would arise this evening to torment his brother, but the moment it had he’d happily made use of it.

He surged out of his chair as steadily as his inebriated state allowed, grabbing his cash and sneering as a murmur of disapproval grew in volume. Pushing his way through the hushed spectators, Sir Toby Kendrick quit the room, then the house. He chuckled as he sauntered along the pavement. He might have lost his fiancée tonight—Mr Lowell had taken his daughter off home a moment after Toby had asked the miser for a few sovereigns to use as stake money. But luckily, he’d had some pocket change with him, and he’d cleverly turned those few coins into a tidy sum...

‘Come...stand up, Beatrice...it’s time to go...’

Beatrice heard the quiet baritone commanding her, felt gentle fingers touching her arm to coax her out of her seat. But she was unable to move. Tears were burning her eyes, but she managed to keep them at bay until a shrill voice heralded her aunt’s approach.

‘What have you done?’ Dolly cried, thrusting her panic-stricken face close to the miscreant’s blurry vision.

When her niece seemed incapable of explaining herself she pulled out a chair next to Bea and collapsed into it. Just minutes ago Fiona had sidled up to warn her that Bea might be in a spot of trouble, interrupting Dolly mid-flow in singing her niece’s praises to her friends.
A spot of trouble
hardly did justice, in Dolly’s mind, to this latest disaster threatening the Dewey family.

‘My poor brother!’ Dolly whimpered. ‘How is he to repay the odious fellow that amount of cash? What were you thinking of, playing so freely, you stupid girl?’ Dolly clapped her hands in frustration.

It was the trigger that Beatrice had been dreading. She stiffened, attempting to control her inner quaking at her aunt’s fully deserved reprimand.

‘What is to be done?’ Dolly turned to Hugh for support as Bea dropped her forehead into a hand and used a thumb to smear away the moisture on her lashes.

‘The matter can be rectified,’ Hugh soothed.

He sat down on the opposite side of Bea and immediately she raised her glistening eyes to him. ‘You think your brother is lying? I don’t really owe him that much, do I?’

‘Yes...you do...’ Hugh disabused her. He’d had a muttered confirmation from the banker that the sum was correct. Sir Toby had encouraged Beatrice to engage in cocking—her whole pot of money had been risked on the turn of a card—and then, when she’d had nothing left and had panicked, his fiend of a brother had pretended to help her recoup her losses by loaning her more cash to stake.

‘Papa shall not know of this,’ Bea whispered.

‘Indeed he must!’ Dolly spluttered. ‘However are you to save yourself from ruin if your father does not settle with Sir Toby—?’

‘He shall not know!’ Beatrice interrupted, so forcefully that her aunt shrank back in her seat.

‘You are overwrought, Beatrice, to speak so.’ Dolly sounded miffed and glanced about.

Thankfully most people had had the good manners to exit the room while the crisis was debated by kith and kin. But Dolly knew that by tomorrow every breakfast table would be alive with gossip about Miss Dewey. Beatrice’s good deed in being nice to Miss Rawlings would be overlooked and only the gory details of her misbehaviour picked over.

‘I shall go home now.’ Beatrice slowly gained her feet, but with a strengthening determination shaping her features. Drawing in a deep, inspiriting breath she elevated her chin. ‘If I must run the gauntlet I’d sooner do it right away.’ She felt ashamed that Hugh had witnessed her stupidity. She’d gone against him in trusting his brother when he’d made it clear Sir Toby was a bad character. ‘Thank you for trying to save me by taking my place,’ she whispered.

‘My pleasure...’ He inclined his head.

‘Will you leave with us now?’ Fiona had arrived with them in the viscount’s coach and Beatrice realised she might like a lift home.

‘Indeed I shall not!’ Fiona replied with asperity. ‘I’m going to stay here with Verity and Jago and defend your reputation by telling everybody what a vile monster Sir Toby is!’ Fiona’s cheeks were flushed with anger at what Hugh’s brother had done. ‘I can get a ride home with my family later.’

Verity murmured full-hearted agreement to her sister’s plan. ‘Jago has told me that he feared Sir Toby was playing a dastardly game with you...’

‘It’s a shame he didn’t think to come and tell me,’ Hugh pointed out, in a tone of voice that caused Verity to squirm on her spouse’s behalf.

The little party exited the gaming room, Bea and Dolly escorted by Hugh, and the sisters marching right behind them.

Feeling light-headed with embarrassment, Bea involuntarily gripped tighter to the muscled flesh beneath her fingers, causing Hugh to smile encouragement at her. She snapped her head higher, her eyes steadily on the exit...until she came level with Colin and their gazes merged. His brows were drawn together, making him seem puzzled rather than disapproving. However, Bea noticed that Stella and her aunt looked to be relishing her disgrace.

* * *

‘Is this evening’s blasted bad luck never to end?’ Dolly cried, hands jigging in distress. She peered up and down the road, seeking any sign of a coach bearing the Blackthorne coat of arms.

‘It doesn’t matter that the coach has disappeared,’ Hugh said mildly, flicking his fingers to attract his servant’s attention. Immediately a sleek vehicle stationed at the opposite kerb was steered to a halt in front of them.

‘It doesn’t matter? I think the viscount might disagree on that!’ Dolly shrilled, already tottering gratefully towards the open door of Hugh’s transport.

A moment ago they had descended the stone steps from the Whitleys’ townhouse to find that Viscount Blackthorne’s carriage was nowhere to be seen. On questioning one of the footmen stationed at the base of the steps, Hugh had ascertained that the vehicle had left almost as soon as it had dropped off its occupants. The servant had guessed why that was, and so had Hugh: the driver had had an assignation to keep and had believed he’d time to see his sweetheart before returning. The unlucky swain had been caught out because his passengers were departing far earlier than expected.

‘You are good to us, sir, to help like this!’ Dolly’s belated thanks were heartfelt and thrown over a shoulder as a groom sprang from his perch at the back of the coach to assist her boarding.

Dolly had felt appalled at the idea of calling a Hackney, with no money to pay for it—and of course her niece now had not a penny on her either. All in all, Dolly deemed it a very bad ending to what had started as an enjoyable affair.

Wordlessly, Hugh extended a palm to Beatrice. For a moment their eyes tangled, and he could tell from her reticence in accepting his help that she suspected he might have an ulterior motive in offering her and her aunt a ride home. As indeed he did.

‘Do you want to walk back to Upper Brook Street?’ he suggested softly.

Beatrice nibbled her lower lip but finally placed her fingers in his. As she settled into the luxurious seat she kept her eyes averted from the man who’d leapt in and slammed the door then lounged opposite. She was alarmed by the thought that she was now unsure which Kendrick brother intended doing her reputation the most harm.

Chapter Fourteen

‘I
t is a bit late to make a fuss about etiquette, miss!’ Dolly snapped. ‘Your reputation has been patched up too many times for that. You are now beyond the pale and fortunate Mr Kendrick is willing to put himself out for you.’

Scooting forward on the seat, she profusely thanked Hugh for his assistance in helping her alight from his coach.

Turning to her niece, Dolly poked her head into the vehicle’s interior. ‘Don’t think your father shall remain in ignorance of this latest mischief. If you will not tell him that you have again added to his woes, then I shall.’

Beatrice had guessed her aunt had been simmering on the night’s shocking events on the way home to Marylebone. The journey had passed in virtual silence and every time Bea had tried to make a little conversation her aunt had barked at her. Even Bea’s quiet, stuttered apologies had been angrily flicked away by Dolly. As for the man ensconced opposite... Bea had tried to avoid looking his way, acutely conscious as she was of his powerful presence.

A few moments ago, when it had become clear from passing landmarks that Hugh had instructed his driver to head to her aunt’s house first, Bea had urgently whispered to Dolly that it would be seemly if she were the first to quit their Good Samaritan’s company. In response, her aunt had snappily overruled her.

‘Mrs Pearson is over-anxious; she’ll see things differently in the morning.’

Bea glanced at the pair of broad shoulders easing into the squabs as the coach once more set off. ‘I think you are being over-optimistic, sir,’ she murmured.

‘Do you? Why?’

‘Because in the morning things will be worse, not better, than they are now,’ Bea answered unsteadily. ‘And well you know it. So if you are trying to kindly make light of my folly...please do not bother. I must face the consequences of my actions. I am not a child.’

‘I know you’re not a child, Beatrice...far from it...’

There was an insinuation in his husky reply that put Bea on her guard as she peeked at him from beneath thick lashes. Ever since he’d helped her into his coach an idea had been circling her mind that he might try to take advantage of her predicament. He’d told her weeks ago to consider his offer of protection. Then she had been a jilted spinster, living with an ageing parent. Now her position—and her father’s—was even more precarious, due to her foolhardiness.

Bea hated the idea of her father taking on the burden of her debt; neither did she want to seek help from Viscount Blackthorne. Walter would be mortified to discover that money had been borrowed from his son-in-law to pay off his dependant daughter’s gambling debts.

Queasiness in her stomach—part excitement, part dread—made Beatrice fidget on the seat. She had a feeling that she’d given Hugh Kendrick an opportunity to remind her why she should become his mistress. And many women of her age and unfortunate position might listen to such a rich and charismatic man’s persuasion...