“Look down,” he urged her quietly.
She glanced his way. Then turned abruptly, moving away from the window so he could no longer see her. His heart gave a painful clench. This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be.
Dear Lord, he hoped it was not.
Chapter Thirteen
Clutching the letter tight, Angel tiptoed to Mrs. Stone’s room and peeked through the gap. Thank goodness she was sleeping well at present. She had been worried since Reuben—no Mr. Hunter—had left that she might be unsettled.
She glanced down at the letter in her hand. This was the answer to one of her problems. Once Mr. Cartwright was sent away, Angel no longer had to worry about him swindling any money out of Mrs. Stone. As for Mr. Hunter…well, she had no clever ideas yet. How did one convince an aunt that her most-beloved nephew only wanted her for her money?
Goodness, she was having a tough time convincing herself of it. Were it not for her mission to get rid of the horrible Mr. Cartwright, she might well have curled up in bed and wept for the past week. It had been so tempting to give him an audience, to tell him all she knew, to unleash every ounce of fury and heartbreak on him. But he deserved none of it. What a fine actor he was, pretending to care for her.
And what a fool she was to fall for it.
At least the bloody duke had been obvious in his intentions. He wanted rank, beauty, and someone who could hold their own in society. Had she still been in London, it might well have been her announcing her engagement to him, but she could not help feel it would only have led to misery. A marriage to a duke seemed such a silly goal in life now.
She curled her lip. Marriage to a Mr. Hunter would not have been any better. If he had even gone so far as to carry on this charade that long. The chances were, as soon as he had his hands on his aunt’s money, he would have dropped her like a hat one season out of fashion.
Angel hastened downstairs and retrieved her pelisse. She shoved the letter into her reticule and slipped out of the front door. A chilly wind, scattered with light rain, greeted her, sticking to her face and the curls around it. She would go on foot as she did not want anyone telling Mrs. Stone what she had done, but apparently this gambling hell was only a mile and a half down the road.
She only hoped she found Mr. Cartwright there or else it would be a huge waste of time.
But one of the serving girls had sworn that Mr. Cartwright spent almost every night there.
Trudging down the road leading from the house, until it connected with a narrow lane that led toward the small town nearby, Angel held her hat over her face to protect it from the worst of the weather. Of course it would be raining. It had been dull weather ever since Mr. Hunter left. The fanciful side of her said that was rather prophetic—it mirrored how she felt inside, all dark and empty and full of tumultuous clouds. The logical side of her said that sounded too much like Minerva for her liking, and she reminded herself that they were edging into autumn so of course the weather would begin changing.
Trees hung over the lane like ominous monsters, their clawed talons reaching out for her. She straightened her shoulders and kept her gaze on the distant glow of the nearby town. She had visited the haberdashery and several of Mrs. Stone’s friends in the town so she was no stranger to the place, but in the dark, everything seemed different.
Goodness, she was beginning to sound just like Minerva. First she was acting all sensible and thinking of others, and now she was fearing what might become of her in the night. Two months in the countryside could do strange things to a girl.
By the time she reached the outskirts of the town, the drizzle had eased but not before soaking under the neckline of her pelisse and wrapping a chill about every part of her body. Who even knew if she still had toes? If she did, she could not feel them.
Angel patted her reticule to reassure herself it still hung from her fingers. Tucking it under her arm, she peered down the street to look for the building Beth had described. A modern building with large windows beckoned to her. But she would not be entering via the front. No one needed to see her stepping foot in such a place.
Drawing her hat tight around her face, she slipped around the side of the building and pushed open a creaky gate. She doubted she was the first person to slip in nor would she be the last, and the gaming hell would likely welcome anyone with coin so it was not difficult to gain entrance to the building.
Still, a tiny thrill rushed through her, making her heart quicken as she stepped into the depths of the house. A small, marble-floored hallway led farther into the structure. She might not have been allowed to frequent gaming hells in London, but she knew enough to understand the gaming room would be near the back, away from prying eyes and any worrisome wives.
A cloud of cigar smoke swirled high in the air as she pushed open the door. The scent of pomade mingled with the sweat she could see on some of the men’s foreheads while they gambled away fortunes. She wrinkled her nose and stepped away from the door when she noticed men swinging looks her way. A sudden shout of frustration made her jump, and she moved to the edge of the room to circle around.
Gaming tables filled the room. She was not certain how busy she expected the place to be for being out in the countryside, but a handful of men lingered around the tables. It would be easy to spot Mr. Cartwright.
Angel studied each face, brows wrinkled in concentration, until she spied him. A deck of cards in hand and his usual confident posture diminished by the rounding of his shoulders, Mr. Cartwright didn’t even see her as she approached.
She cleared her throat, but he did not take his eyes off the table as cards were dealt. She tried again, and he swung a glance her way.
His eyes widened. “Lady Angel!” Both brows rose. “Well, I did not expect to see you here.”
Her muscles tensed under his observation of her. A tiny flicker of smugness pulled at his upper lip.
“Will you join me for a game? Or perhaps something a little more high stakes takes your fancy?” Mr. Cartwright chuckled. “I had heard you were a lady who enjoyed a fun time. Little did I know gaming was to your tastes.”
“It is not to my tastes,” she said stiffly. “I have come to…speak with you. I have a proposition that might interest you.”
She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, most especially when his eyes lit with their usual lasciviousness. Angel lifted her chin and drew in a long breath. “May we talk in private?”
Mr. Cartwright lifted a finger. Angel ground her teeth together. There was even arrogance in that one finger. “Let me finish.”
She waited and watched as he lost money she knew there was no chance he had. He slammed a fist on the table, pushed a hand through his hair, then stood, affecting a charming smile.
“What can I help you with, Angel?”
She blinked. The red-faced anger and frustration was gone in an instant. No wonder Mrs. Stone had been fooled by him.
She tipped her head toward the hallway, motioning for him to follow her. The fresher air and quieter atmosphere away from the inner sanctum allowed her to gather herself for a moment. She felt less like a wide-eyed child now, which was exactly what she needed if she was going to ensure the problem of Mr. Cartwright was dealt with.
“I am surprised you would risk your reputation by coming to see me alone.” He lounged against the wall. “Whatever it is you wish to discuss, it must be urgent indeed.” He pushed away from the wall and moved closer to her. “Or perhaps you just could not stay away.”
“You greatly overestimate your appeal, Mr. Cartwright. Some semblance of modesty would do you the world of good.”
“Lady Angel Templeton is a known flirt and considered quite scandalous in some circles,” he mused. “Why would I not expect her to wish to fall into a rogue’s arms?”
Angel laughed, ignoring the slight. It was not the first time she had been shamed for her fun-loving behavior, and it would likely not be the last. “You think you are a rogue?” She shook her head. “Sir, I have met m
any a rogue, and they put you all to shame. You might think you are something quite special here, but there are hundreds of you in London and many are more practiced and more handsome.”
His lips curved. “No wonder Hunter is attracted to you.”
The name sent a dart straight into her heart. Her throat tightened. She did not want to think about that man. Did not want to think about his kisses or how she’d avoided saying goodbye to him or uttering another word. Especially did not want to think about how foolish she had been to believe he really, truly cared for her. She swallowed hard.
“I have come to offer you a proposition,” she told him.
“Yes, you said,” he said dryly.
“There is nothing untoward about it, let me assure you of that.” Angel folded her arms across her chest, feeling the need to put a barrier between them. She motioned to the inner room. “I know you have debts, and a need for more money. I know you have taken money from others before and intend to take some from Mrs. Stone.”
“If Mrs. Stone wishes to make a wise investment, far be it for me to discourage her.”
“What if I could offer you a job with good money and ensure your debts are paid?”
“A job,” he spluttered.
“A commission.” She eyed him. “As an officer in the Army.”
He stilled, and his constant smug smile dropped. “A commission?”
She nodded. “Think about it. The ladies will adore you, you shall get to spend time with gentlemen, and you shall earn a good wage.”
“And this commission, where is it?”
“Yorkshire.”
“I don’t know anything or anyone in Yorkshire.”
“But, Mr. Cartwright, you are so very good at making friends. Surely you would do wonderfully in the officer’s mess.” She forced a smile that made her feel a little queasy.
“And my debts?”
“I shall ensure any debts you have accrued locally are paid off.”
His gaze narrowed. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“Because I want you far away from Mrs. Stone.” She shrugged. “There is no other reason for it.” She forced a smile. “Imagine yourself in uniform. A wealthy man once more. Mingling with the upper echelons of society. It surely has to be better than spending time here?”
Mr. Cartwright tapped a finger against his chin. Then glanced toward the gaming hell. Pursing his lips, he gave a little shrug. “Very well. Clear my debts, send me to Yorkshire as an officer. I will never see Mrs. Stone again, you have my word.” He thrust out a hand.
Angel eyed the hand.
“You negotiate like a gentleman, so I think we should have gentleman’s agreement, do you not think?”
She slipped her hand into his, and he shook it. A half-smile cut across his face, and he shook his head. “When I was told of Lady Angel Templeton, I did not think she would be like this.”
“Like what?”
“Willing to give up money for a silly old lady.”
“Perhaps, sir, it would be best if you do not listen to gossip in the future.” She lifted her chin and strode out of the building. She had won, so she would not scold him for his horrible words, even though she felt a pang for Mrs. Stone. The poor woman had trusted him, and he had cast aside her offered friendship without a second thought.
Still, Mr. Cartwright would get what he deserved. She smiled to herself. Little did he know, the man he would be serving under was a known brute and kept a dry officer’s mess. He didn’t believe in the men indulging in alcohol or any kind of scandalous behavior. She allowed herself a little chuckle. She might have to pay his debts with what little money she had left, but hopefully that would all be replaced soon enough.
If her siblings had succeeded in their tasks.
Chapter Fourteen
Reuben dismounted from his horse and tossed the reins to the stable boy. Marching toward the house, he shoved a hand through his hair. He’d come straight from his morning ride after hearing the news and was still in a state of undress, but he couldn’t wait. Damn the woman. Ignoring him, then putting herself in danger for God knows what reason.
He found his aunt and Angel standing on the lawns, their arms above their heads. In time with one another, they stretched their arms then brought them down and bent at their waists. He shook his head. What the devil were they doing? If he wasn’t so bloody furious and frustrated, he’d take the time to appreciate the sight of a bent over Angel, but all he pictured at present was her beaten and bruised and left to die in some alleyway after her nighttime adventure to the gaming hell.
Had that been what she wanted? Adventure? Because if the damned woman wanted adventure, he’d offer it to her—in a safe manner. Heck, he’d go to the depths of hell with her if that’s what she wanted.
He should pause. Take a breath. Stop and think logically for a moment. But he’d spent the past week trying to fathom what he had done to upset Angel, twisting himself inside out in an attempt to understand why she had been so angry with him, what he could have possibly done.
And then he hears the news that she’d spent the evening in a gaming hell!
Both women turned as he approached. He heard Angel instructing his aunt on whatever it was that they were doing. Aunt Jean gave him a broad grin then bent her legs and lifted her arms. Angel’s gaze narrowed briefly on him before she set her gaze determinedly away from him. He blew out a hot breath. She had no right to be angry with him, not after what she had done.
“And now we straighten…” Angel said, her light tone belying her stone-cold expression.
“What are you doing?” Reuben stopped in front of the ladies.
“Exercising, of course,” said his aunt.
Angel directed a glare at him. “I suppose this is where you tell me your aunt should be inside, doing something dull and safe, away from all dangers.” There was an edge to the way she said dangers, and he could not quite figure out why.
After all, she was the one putting herself in bloody danger by traipsing around unescorted at night.
“Aunt, if I may, I would like a word with Angel.” How he kept his tone so measured he did not know.
His aunt swung a look between them and smiled. “Of course. I could do with a little nap after our exercise anyway.”
“But, Mrs. Stone…” Angel protested.
“Speak to Roo, dear. I find myself quite tired.” She gave a yawn that was almost certainly forced.
Reuben waited until his aunt was out of hearing distance and thrust a finger at Angel. “You want to tell me what you were doing in a gaming hell last night?”
She opened her mouth then closed it, her brow creasing. Her gaze scanned his no doubt bedraggled appearance and color crept into her cheeks. She shook her head marginally and straightened her shoulders. Reuben recognized the posture all too well. She was preparing to go to battle.
Well, he’d be damned if he’d lose this one. He’d already lost his heart to her and what a miserable experience that had turned out to be.
Her brow puckered fiercely. “Who told you?”
“You have no explanation?”
“Oh, I have an explanation, but it’s not one you deserve,” she shot at him before turning on her heel and dashing toward the walled garden.
She darted behind one of the walls, and Reuben had to take a moment to gather himself. This was not what he had anticipated—her running off and hiding from him like a child! Shaking his head, he followed after her and found her tucked up on a bench, her legs drawn up into the cocoon of her arms. She shot him a resentful glare.
“Just leave me alone,” she muttered.
“I will, when you stop acting like a petulant child.”
Her eyes flashed. She released her legs and rose slowly, elegantly. Suddenly the child was gone and an aristocratic woman was in her place. The problem was, either version made him want to take her into his arms and kiss her until that hateful look had vanished from her eyes. And that would not help his cause at all.
He clasped his hands behind his back to prevent himself from reaching for her. “Well, are you going to tell me why it is you risked harm and your reputation to frequent a gaming hell? Why you put yourself in such a position for a silly bit of fun? Damn it, Angel, if you want to visit one of those places, I could have arranged such a thing with myself and one of the serving girls.”
A bitter smile crossed her lips. “Oh, yes. I suppose that would be my only motivation would it not? A silly bit of fun? Everyone knows Lady Angel Templeton lives only for silly bits of fun.”
Reuben finally took a long breath. “No, I do not believe that. Once, I might have,” he admitted. “But I do not believe that now.”
“But—”
“So will you tell me the real reason you visited?” he asked with as much calm as he could muster.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.” She twisted away from him. “I will tell you nothing.”
“Damn it, Angel.” He took her arms and spun her toward him, keeping a hold of her. She wriggled in his hold but he would not release her. “I have little idea what I have done to offend you, but I will not tolerate this nonsense any longer. You at least owe me an explanation of your recent behavior.”
“I owe you nothing!”
“So that kiss was nothing? You really feel nothing for me?” The words rushed out before he had a chance to consider what he was saying.
“I—” Her voice cracked. “That was a mistake.” She balled her fists and gave another little wriggle, but there did not seem to be any fight left in her. “I was misled.”
“Misled? How did I mislead you?”
“I thought you a different man, but now I see you are no better than Mr. Cartwright,” she spat.
“Cartwright? That bastard? I am nothing like him.”
There Are Plenty More Dukes in the Sea (The Inheritance Clause Book 1) Page 10