When Marrying a Scoundrel (6 page)

To his credit, Jack looked aghast that he’d actually given voice to his thoughts, but he did not apologize.

“If I am a fraud in your estimation,” Sadie said, voice tight with the effort to keep it from breaking, “it is because you made me so. But regardless of your low opinion of me, I signed a lease for this property, a lease that was agreed to and also signed by Trystan Kane. If you plan to stop me from having my shop, you’d best take it up with him.” How full of bravado and certainty she sounded! When in reality her knees were knocking together. Jack wouldn’t really try to take her dream away from her, would he? Not when he’d already taken more than he could ever know.

“I will,” he replied with a stiff nod. “I will take it up with Kane.”

Oh
,
Jack
. Sadie wouldn’t have thought there was anything left of her heart for him to break, but the familiar pain in her chest proved otherwise.

“Then we’ve nothing left to discuss.” Lifting her chin, she leveled him with the haughtiest expression she could
muster with tears burning the backs of her eyes. “Good day, Mr. Friday. I hope I never see you again and that you rot in hell.”

He had the gall to look saddened. “I’m afraid that’s exactly where we’ll meet again, Sadiemoon.”

She turned on her heel and marched out the door before she humiliated herself by screaming or bursting into tears. She refused to show defeat, even when she climbed into the privacy of her waiting carriage just outside the shop and tapped on the roof.

Years ago she would have been destroyed by Jack calling her a fraud, but now she was merely disappointed—and angry. She was done clinging to girlish hope where he was concerned, and from this point would go forward as if he were nothing more than a blister on her heel. He might succeed in keeping her from having this spot, but he couldn’t stop her from finding another. And he couldn’t take away what she knew to be truth no matter how much he denied it.

Jack Friday had decimated all her dreams once before. Sadie would be damned if she let him do it again.

The club at Saint’s Row took up almost the entirety of the east side of that small lane. Vienne had purchased the lot on the west side as well and turned it into stables for herself and her guests so that the street wasn’t constantly congested with carriages.

The coachman delivered Sadie to the front door before crossing the neat cobblestones to care for the horses. Though the club was closed at this time of day, Sadie’s
friendship with Vienne gave her certain liberties, so she was able to enter the neoclassical mansion without raising any eyebrows.

Sadie had read Vienne’s leaves once—when they first met. Since then the Frenchwoman had never once requested a second reading. She didn’t take it personally. Vienne was one of her staunchest supporters, and Sadie knew that at least two of the things she’d seen in Vienne’s cup had come to pass. She assumed that Vienne believed in her abilities and simply didn’t want to know what the future held.

Or perhaps Vienne simply didn’t want Sadie to know any more of her secrets.

To be honest, it really didn’t matter. Part of what made her hold Vienne and Indara so dear was that neither woman held her responsible for their lives. So many of her regular patrons seemed as though they couldn’t get dressed in the morning without consulting her. It was nice to have at least two people who didn’t thank or blame her for the major events of their lives.

She walked briskly across the polished marble floor, with strides as long as her narrow skirts would allow; but she was not in so much of a hurry that she forgot her manners. She said hello to several club employees who were busy readying the facilities for the coming evening, and nodded to a few others, but she did not stop to chat as she normally might. Instead, she hurried up the broad staircase to the first floor, rounded the corner, and continued up to the second, where Vienne’s private apartments were located.

She knocked on the wide, white-washed double door and waited impatiently to be received. Fortunately, she did not have to wait long. Vienne’s maid greeted her with a friendly smile and quickly ushered her inside the main sitting room where Vienne sat at her desk, reading correspondence. She looked up as Sadie approached.

“You look like you could strangle a puppy,” her friend remarked dispassionately.

Sadie made a small grunting sound as she pulled free her hat from her head and tossed the damn thing aside. She couldn’t bear to have it on her head one moment longer.

Vienne—still in her silk dressing gown, her fiery hair tumbling down her back—had risen and was in the act of pouring them both a cup of hot, fragrant coffee. A fine brow arched at the discarded hat, which had landed upon her sofa. “Did your meeting with your new landlord not go well,
ma petite chouchou
?”

Sadie scowled at her. Vienne rarely spoke French when they were alone, unless it was to poke fun. “Did you just call me your ‘little cabbage’?”

Vienne grinned, and came toward her with a cup of coffee on a delicate saucer. “You know, I believe I did. Forgive me. Sit.”

Sadie did just that, seating herself on the well-padded, cream brocade sofa where she’d lobbed her hat. It lay beside her, ignored like an unwelcome guest.

Vienne took a seat in the matching chair across from her. Again, she glanced at the hat with sharp blue eyes. “Poor
Monsieur Chapeau
tossed aside like garbage.”
That acute gaze shot to Sadie, all teasing gone. “Do not make me wait. What’s happened?”

Sighing, Sadie took a sip of her coffee. Her eyes closed in bliss. Strong and sweet with too much cream—just the way she liked it. How much should she tell Vienne? She couldn’t lie to her friend, especially not one who had done as much for her as Vienne had, but if she revealed all it could affect Vienne’s business with Jack, and she didn’t want that on her conscious no matter how Jack deserved to have his plans stomped upon.

Still, Vienne was a business woman. She wouldn’t make a decision based on emotion.

That left only one decision—where to begin?

She met Vienne’s questioning gaze. “Twelve years ago I married Jack Friday in a pagan ceremony.” Vienne knew she’d been married, and that she’d been deserted, but Sadie had never said his name.

Russet brows jumped, but otherwise the smooth porcelain of the Frenchwoman’s features remained impassive. It took a lot more than a youthful impulse to startle her. “A pagan ceremony, how very free thinking of you, my friend.”

“Free thinking had nothing to do with it. I was fifteen, he was eighteen and his family had cut him off. We couldn’t afford a license.” Odd how those days brought a smile to Sadie’s lips. Jack had stolen some money from his grandfather to set them up in a flat, but the money didn’t last long. All they’d had was their few meager belongings and each other. God, that had been enough back then.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that,” her friend mused, a suspicious look in her eye. “Certainly such pleasure cannot be owed to the black-hearted bastard who left you as though you were a two-penny whore who owed him change?”

Vienne had such a way of putting things—not just at their bluntest and basest, but also in a manner that made Sadie feel wrong for remembering Jack with any fondness whatsoever.

“Not every moment of my marriage was unpleasant, Vienne,” Sadie informed her somewhat coolly. “And he didn’t leave me like a ‘two-penny whore’ as you so eloquently put it.”

“Of course not.” The Frenchwoman’s tone was placating and not the least bit sincere. Vienne believed the worst of men—all men. She said it kept her from spending much of her life in a state of disillusionment.

“So, Mr. Friday is your erstwhile spouse, eh? Why did you not mention this last night?”

Sadie shrugged—a beastly habit she’d picked up from Vienne—and took another sip of her delicious coffee. “I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“And now you do?”

“And now I do, because the great arse says he’s not going to let me have my shop!” Let her accuse Sadie of having too much fondness for Jack now! She trembled as rage and fear took hold of her with a vengeance. “Can he do that, Vienne?”

Her friend looked positively murderous. “What exactly did he threaten?”

“That he was going to tell Mr. Kane not to rent to me.”

Vienne smiled a little then, and Sadie took it as a good sign despite its predatory appearance. “Trystan Kane is many things, but he won’t turn his back on a sound investment just because his partner asks him to.”

“But I’m sure he’s told Mr. Kane horrible things about me.”

“Just as you’ve told me horrible things about your husband, but that’s not going to prevent me from doing business with him. It just means I won’t share my bed with him.”

Sadie’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t seem to remember how to make words come out. And Vienne, God love her, laughed in response. “Don’t look so shocked, my friend. You of all people should know how very attractive he is.”

“Well…yes. Of course.” But how could Vienne give herself to a man she called a “black-hearted bastard?” The idea of the two of them in bed together…She wondered how Vienne felt about
eating
that cup she held.

“You needn’t look at me as though you’d like to take out my eyes.” Her friend laughed again. “I’m not going to bed your husband, Sadie.”

She hadn’t looked at her in any such manner, had she? “He’s not my husband, not anymore. Legally, I don’t think he ever was.”

Vienne tilted her head to one side. “Then why do you fear him?”

Scowling, she brushed an imaginary speck of lint from her skirts. “I don’t fear him.”

A blessed moment of silence followed and then Vienne said, in a voice filled with wonderment, “I believe you still love him.”

Sadie had heard just about enough. “Would that make him once again shag-worthy in your estimation?”

Vienne blinked, her eyes huge with surprise. But before Sadie could apologize for her rudeness, the Frenchwoman burst out laughing—a reaction that dimmed Sadie’s own regret.

“All these years.” Vienne shook her head, still chuckling. “I’ve been your friend for years and I’ve never known you could be such a delightful bitch.”

A small smile curved Sadie’s lips. “I was going to apologize, but you can forget about that now.”

“My dear friend”—the amusement faded from Vienne’s expression, replaced by genuine concern—“I am so very sorry you have to face this painful reminder of your past. I would take it from you if I could.”

Were that but possible. Sadie’s throat tightened, and her mouth twisted slightly. “He’ll be gone soon enough, and if he convinces Mr. Kane to evict me, then I will find another spot.”

“That’s the spirit,” Vienne enthused. “Although, if Trystan Kane is fool enough to break his lease with you because his prick of a partner has his nose out of joint, then he is not the man I believe him to be.”

For a moment, Sadie wondered just what kind of man
that was. She knew little of Trystan Kane other than her own dealings, but he and Vienne had a history together. She wasn’t certain of all the details, but she wondered if perhaps they’d had an affair.

As curious as she was on the subject, she wouldn’t ask. Vienne would tell her if she wanted her to know, and Sadie had other things—more important things—to think about.

“I should go,” she said, finishing her coffee. “Mason is taking me to the theater tonight and I have a million things to do before he arrives.”

A dreamy smile floated across Vienne’s well-shaped lips as her gaze drifted toward the portrait of herself as Delilah above the mantel. “Mmm, Mason. You should do
him
, my friend.”

Sadie chuckled, her own gaze drifting to the painting as well. Mason had done an exquisite job as always. Vienne looked both seductive and dangerous draped in lengths of flimsy silk, a dagger in one hand, a thick hank of long black hair in the other. “You didn’t sleep with him, did you Vienne?” she asked, as the horrible thought occurred to her.

Her friend’s smile turned wicked. “If I had, he would not yet have the strength to chase you!”

They laughed together, and Sadie was relieved. It would be too uncomfortable to spend time with—be courted by—a man who had shared Vienne’s bed. Not only would she wonder if she was being compared to the sensual Frenchwoman, but she would wonder if there were feelings there as well. She didn’t like being the
jealous sort, but she recognized it within herself. Better to avoid such situations altogether.

“I try to avoid entanglements with men my own age,” Vienne admitted coyly. “The older man has such subtle confidence, and the younger…” She chuckled. “The younger, has such enthusiasm! But a man the same age? He has too much confidence and not enough enthusiasm.”

“Too bad you could not combine the two,” Sadie remarked with surprising good humor given her day. “A younger man with all the stamina of his age but the confidence of someone older.”

Was it her imagination or did Vienne pale just the tiniest bit? “Yes,” the other woman agreed, no longer smiling. “It is too bad indeed. Enjoy the theater. You must tell me all about it, and the delightful Mr. Blayne, tomorrow.”

She was dismissed, Sadie realized without injury to her feelings. She hugged her friend and left. One of the footmen sent for her carriage and soon she was on her way back to Pimlico, suddenly drained of all energy.

A hot bath was what she needed. And a glass or two of wine. Oh, and a lovely evening with a handsome, attentive gentleman. That would fix her up, right quick like. Maybe Vienne was right. Maybe she
should
take Mason as her lover. He was certainly attractive, and she knew he fancied her as well. He was a delightful dancer and a delicious kisser, so why not take their relationship to the next level? It wasn’t as though she was a married woman.

Oh, why did she have to go and think that? And what on earth was she going to do about Jack?

Nothing. That’s what she was going to do. Nothing, unless he forced her to do otherwise. The less she had to do with him the better. She would hope that he failed to turn Mr. Kane against her and that he left town as soon as possible. She didn’t want to look for another location for her shop, but she would. She would not give up her dream just because an obstacle named Jack Farrington—Friday now—got in her way.